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She froze, gaze meeting Kristy’s equally stunned one.
“What was that?” Rissa, mouth full and eyes wide. “It sounded like gunfire.”
“It was,” Amy said, voice extra high.
They were right. It was a sound Mak knew well but hadn’t heard in over two years. The rapid-fire of a semi-automatic machine gun. An AK-47 if she had to guess. It’d been the daily soundtrack to her childhood.
“We need to move,” Mak barked as she jumped to her feet. Years of repressed training kicked in. Her brain moved on autopilot, not allowing time for fear. “Take Emmie and hide in a closet. Do not go outside until we know what’s going on.”
Amy snatched Emmie off the ground and started for her bedroom with Rissa two steps ahead, but before they had a chance to leave the den, the front door crashed open, torpedoing a shower of splintered wood across the room.
Amy and Rissa screamed while Emmie began to cry with loud, frightened shrieks.
Kristy sprung from the recliner, landing with feet spread and fists clenched as though she planned to attack their intruder.
“Run!” Mak’s heart pounded against her ribs like gloved fists on a punching bag. She hadn’t so much as taken a step toward the kids when her father’s hulking form appeared in the den.
No!
“No one fucking move!” he shouted.
The kids froze in place.
A roaring storm rushed in her ears, drowning out the sound of Emmie’s wails and Amy’s useless shushing. Old enough to recognize and have horrendous memories of their father, Rissa began crying as well. Normally, Mak’s priority would be reassuring her distraught siblings, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from the sight of their enraged father.
She hadn’t seen the man in more than two years and had hoped with all her heart she’d never come face to face with him again.
Blood crusted the entire front of his shirt, seeming to have originated from a dark stain near his right shoulder. Aside from the way his right arm hung limp at his side, he looked as strong and capable as ever, standing with the rifle braced against his uninjured shoulder and trained on Kristy. Of course, he could handle a gun with one hand, his non-dominant one no less. That rifle was practically an extension of his limbs.
“You fucking bitch,” he snarled, finger on the trigger. Pulsing veins bulged in his neck and forehead. His left arm held rock steady, not a waver in sight despite the weight of the weapon and the fact he had to be in extreme pain. “You set us up. They were fucking ready for us.”
“N-no,” Kristy whispered, shaking her head. For the first time, Mak witnessed Kristy off her game. The woman sputtered and shook under the sight of the gun. “I-I…I had no idea.”
Holy shit, the anonymous caller. Had Kristy sent them to the CDMC compound on purpose, then called to warn the club? Mak had been so focused on the fact she might be free, she hadn’t given thought to the caller.
God, he’d kill her friend for sure if she didn’t cut in.
“D-dad,” Mak said, taking a step forward. Her knees wobbled and almost gave out, but she managed to stay upright through sheer force of will and determination to save her sisters and Kristy.
“And you,” he said, disgusted voice and sneer turning her way. The gun followed, arcing from Kristy to her. “Took my fucking children.” Though he kept the firearm trained her way, his gaze shifted to the frightened kids. “Girls,” he said, in a tone that brokered no argument. “Get behind Daddy. Now!”
Mak had never been so helpless in her life. If she charged forward, she’d be shot, and the girls taken by their father. But how could she stand there and watch him walk away with them? And then there was Monty? Was the prospect lying in the street bleeding out? He didn’t deserve to die because of her selfish inability to stay away from his club.
Emmie cried harder as Amy squeezed her tight.
Amy shook her head. “N-no,” the girl said, and Mak felt so proud even while she wanted to throttle the girl. Disobeying an insane gunman was a perfect way to get killed, but her sister had guts.
“Why don’t you let them go to their rooms to get packed,” she said. They could escape out the window if he’d just let them go.
“You poisoned them against me. You were rotten from day one,” he yelled before spitting on the ground. “Should have gotten rid of you years ago. Girls! Now!”
All three of them cried now, shaking their heads. The pleading looks in their eyes broke Mak’s heart. She’d failed in her one and only goal in life.
To keep her siblings safe and out of the clutches of their father.
The urge to scream at him that she’d never let him take the kids hit strong, but it would never work. He held all the power here, and he knew it. She’d be dead, and he’d take the girls.
