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He took a step in her direction. “That’s not important.”
“There’s a restraining order—”
“Fuck the restraining order. I want to see my daughters.”
Saylor held her breath, hoping neither of her girls came out of the bedroom to see who was in their kitchen, yelling at their mother.
“Go get them.” He motioned toward the hallway, and Saylor saw he held a gun in his hand.
“Cliff, that isn’t necessary. Please put the gun away. I’ll get the girls. Just please, I beg you, don’t hurt them.”
“You think I’d hurt them?” he seethed. “It’s you I’ll hurt, not them. Now go!”
“You’re going to frighten them.”
“Not if you do as I asked. Go get them now and tell them there’s someone you want them to meet. And, Saylor, I’ll be right around the corner, listening to every word you say, so don’t try anything stupid.”
He was close enough that she could feel the gun against her back.
She walked toward the door, trying to decide if she should open it or turn around and try to get the gun away from him. She might die in the process, and then she wouldn’t be here to protect her daughters. She put her hand on the knob, and it felt cold. Why would it be cold?
She slowly opened the door and crept inside. The window was wide open, and she didn’t see either of her daughters.
She turned around to look in their walk-in closet and saw Monk instead, standing just inside, holding a gun in one hand and the finger of his other hand to his lips.
Her eyes opened wide as he pulled her toward him, into the closet, and motioned for her to get down. “Gun,” she whispered as quietly as she could, praying Cliff wouldn’t hear her.
“What the fuck do we have here?” she heard Cliff say a few seconds later. She couldn’t see around Monk, but it sounded like Cliff was walking toward the open window. “Stupid bitch,” he muttered.
“Drop your gun and keep your hands where I can see them!” she heard Monk shout. Saylor closed her eyes and held her breath, knowing that in the next couple of seconds one or both of them would shoot.
“Do it!” Monk shouted again. A split second later, she heard the gunshot she’d anticipated. Only one, and Monk was still standing.
“Saylor, stay where you are,” he said as he walked into the room. She peeked through the open door and saw her ex-husband’s body on the floor. Monk kicked the gun Cliff had dropped away and then knelt down.
“He’s dead, Saylor, but I’m warning you, this isn’t something you want to see,” Monk said at the same time she heard people running in the hall in their direction.
“Where is she?” Saylor heard her brother ask.
“Closet,” Monk answered. “Get her out of here. Don’t let her see this.”
Razor helped her up and put his arm around her. “Monk is right, sweetheart. Close your eyes, and I’ll guide you out of the room.”
Even if Razor hadn’t told her to, Saylor would’ve closed them anyway. She’d seen one dead body in her life—her father’s after he’d had a heart attack. It still haunted her; she didn’t need to see another.
“Where are my girls?” she asked as Razor led her out of the room and down the hallway.
“They’re safe.”
Saylor stopped walking. “Tell me where they are,” she shouted at him.
“They’re at your brother’s house with Merrigan,” said Doc, walking toward them. “Come with me. I’ll take you to them.” Doc kept his arm firmly around her shoulders.
“Where’s my mother?”
“She’s with them. Everyone is safe. No one was hurt.”
“Cliff is dead.”
