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Oops.Gabe had missed. But he couldn’t care. The man was down. He might even die from such a wound.
Gabe found that he didn’t care about that, either. This man had invaded Molly’s home. Held her at gunpoint.
Not even hesitating, Molly scooped up her gun, grabbed the intruder’s, and disappeared again into the stairwell. Gabe ran to catch up, relieved when Shoe popped up from behind one of the cars to follow them.
They passed another body as they climbed the stairs, a bullet hole between his eyes.
Please don’t let that be Lucien, Gabe thought. Please.
Molly looked over her shoulder. “Shhh,” she whispered without stopping, because there were sounds of an altercation coming from farther up.
He and Molly came to a landing and started up a second flight. When they rounded the stairs to the next landing, they found two men fighting hand to hand. The floor was covered in blood, the plaster on the walls chipped and broken with small holes everywhere.
Gun battle, Gabe thought grimly.
Molly ran soundlessly to the two men, grabbed the one on top by the collar and yanked him hard, sending him flying to his back. The man’s clothes were soaked with blood. She went to grab him, but a flash of metallic black in the man’s hand had her stepping back.
The bastard was pointing his gun at Molly’s head, his finger on the trigger.
Before Gabe could make a sound of warning, Molly raised her gun at the man she’d thrown and shot him in the head.
Gabe ran to her side in time to see her murmur to the man who was still alive.
The injured man shook his head at whatever she said. He lifted one finger, then pointed at the apartment door. “One more. He has Chelsea. Hurry.”
Molly ran to her apartment. Gabe started to kneel next to the man, who he assumed was Lucien, only to be waved away.
“I’ll live. Help her.”
Gabe obeyed, following Molly into the apartment, where he stopped, stock-still. A fourth man had his gun pointed at a woman who stood at an interior door, a gun in her shaking hands, her face a mask of desperate fear mixed with determination. Molly’s sister. Gabe remembered her from Molly’s birthday dinner Sunday night, but even if he hadn’t, the resemblance was clear. The door Chelsea guarded must lead to Harper’s room. Fury boiled up from Gabe’s gut and it was all he could do not to charge forward.
“Put the gun down, Chelsea,” the man said smoothly, then called over his shoulder. “Mason! Get your ass in here. How many bullets does it take to put that damn dog down?”
Gabe froze. Dog? Shoe? Shoe’s dead? No, he realized, nearly collapsing with relief when Shoe brushed up against him. The man didn’t know about Shoe. The first guy hadn’t seen the dog, hadn’t mentioned him. Didn’t mention me, either.
He must have meant Lucien.
“No,” Chelsea said. “You won’t touch my daughter. I will kill you.”
The fourth intruder took another step forward. “We won’t hurt you. Not if you cooperate.”
Chelsea was deathly pale, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe. She looked like she’d start hyperventilating any moment.
Molly had been standing frozen, watching. Calculating, Gabe realized. She crept forward, one finger pressed to her lips to silence Chelsea as she approached the man, her gun pointed up at an angle.
An angle that would bring it flush with the man’s head when she got close enough.
Chelsea stiffened when she saw her sister, but rallied so quickly that the man didn’t notice. “No, you aren’t going to hurt me,” she said. “I will kill you if you take a single step closer.”
The man chuckled. “No, you won’t. You can’t.” To prove it he took another step, then another. “See, Chelsea? You won’t kill me.”
Molly shoved her gun against the base of his skull. “No, but I will. Drop your fucking gun.”
The man’s body went rigid, but he didn’t drop his gun. “You won’t kill me, either.”
“I’ve killed before to protect my family. I will do it again. In fact, all three of your men are dead. Drop the fucking gun.”
An ominous growl rumbled beside him and, before Gabe could grab him, Shoe darted into the room, teeth bared, going straight for the man and sinking his teeth into the bastard’s leg.
