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Heart in his throat, Kane slowly climbed out of the cab. Weston’s deadly gaze moved to him, but the rifle remained trained on the women. “Look who showed up. The goddamned cavalry. Put your hands in the air, Moran.”
Kane did as he was told. He only had to get close to Weston, near enough to jump him. The rifle, once it wasn’t pointed at Claire wouldn’t be a problem. Kane learned years ago how to disarm a man. The fog, heavy with the primal scent of the sea, would help camouflage his moves.
“What’s he doing here?” Styles demanded, sliding an irritated glance at Kane.
“Trying to save the day.”
“It’s all over,” Kane interjected. “The police know what’s going on.”
“Sure they do,” Weston mocked, but seemed a little nervous.
That wouldn’t do. The last thing Kane wanted was for the rifle to fire because Taggert was twitchy.
“Our plan will still work.” Weston wasn’t going to be deterred. He hitched his chin in Kane’s direction and from the trees nearby an owl gave off a lonely hoot. “We’ll just make sure Moran is in the accident. As soon as we find the boy.”
“I told you the kid isn’t important,” Styles said. “He’s not related to you. He’s Moran’s son, not Harley’s.”
“You’re sure of that.”
“Saw the DNA report myself.”
How? Kane wondered. What was the deal with this guy? Was he an assassin? A killer for hire? Styles complicated things. Kane knew he could take out Taggert, the guy was getting soft in the gut, but Styles was another matter. The two men he had to disarm were standing too far apart. Fortunately Styles didn’t have a weapon cocked and aimed. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a gun hidden beneath his jacket.
“But the kid can make you. He saw your face.”
“I’m going to disappear,” Styles said. “And I’ll take the heat. That way if the cops think that the accident was planned, they’ll blame me. It’s my van that’s going to go off the road and into the sea anyway. No one will ever know that you were behind the deal. Just give me my money and I’ll do the rest. You can take off, go make yourself an alibi.”
So the guy was a gun for hire. Well he’d have to get close to Taggert to take the money and when he did, Kane would make his move. There was no way he was going to let Claire get in a car with either of these two pricks. His muscles tensed. He was on the balls of his feet, ready to spring.
“What about him?” Weston asked and motioned in Kane’s direction with the muzzle of the rifle.
Kane froze.
Styles didn’t so much as glance his way. His jaw was rock hard, his lips a thin line. “As you said, Moran gets it, too.”
“You bastards, do you think you’ll really get away with this?” Claire glanced at Kane.
“Shh. Don’t say anything,” Tessa warned and there was something about her attitude that seemed off. “Just go along.”
“Are you nuts? I’m not going along! Not ever.” Claire was angry and scared and Kane wanted to find a way to comfort her.
“Neither am I, Taggert. As I said, the police know just what you’re up to.”
“So where are they? Jesus, Styles, let’s get this over with.” He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a thick envelope. Kane inched forward. “This is most of it. You’ll get the rest once the job is finished and if I find out you’re lying about the kid—”
“He’s not. Leave Sean out of this,” Claire said. “Whatever it is.” She sounded desperate. Panicked. “Sean’s not Harley’s son!”
She was moving forward, pleading with Weston, ignoring the gun barrel pointed straight at her chest. Kane heard a rush in his ears, saw Weston aim. “No! Claire duck!” he screamed, rushing forward. In his peripheral vision he saw Styles move.
“Now!” Styles yelled as the barrel of the gun shifted, sighting on Kane.
He leapt at Weston.
A rifle cracked.
Kane hit Taggert hard. Taggert screamed as they went down, the rifle falling to the earth. Kane pummeled the man with his fists, reached upward, intent on driving the bastard’s nose into his brain. From everywhere there were shouts and from the corner of his eye Kane saw a dozen men in SWAT gear stream from the trees. Sirens sounded and he caught a glimpse of Claire, ashen faced, rushing toward them.
“Stay back!” Styles ordered, aiming a pistol at Kane. “Give it up, Moran.” He pulled a wallet from his pocket and flashed a badge. “Get EMT here now!”
