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The man screamed, contorting his body and kicking his leg to try to escape the dog’s bite, but Shoe held on. Molly grabbed the wrist of his gun arm and twisted it, making him scream again. The gun fell from his hand to the hardwood floor and Molly brought his arm up behind his back, shoving him to his knees. Shoe followed the motion, going down on his belly, teeth still firmly planted in the man’s calf.
Good boy, Gabe thought. Such a good boy.
“Other hand where I can see it,” Molly commanded, the gun in her hand never wavering, still pressed to the man’s head. “Gabe? He’s got tactical restraints in his back pocket. Can you retrieve them?”
“Yes.” He tried to move, only to find his legs had become like rubber. Fall apart later. Move it now. He took a step, then another until he was walking normally. He was a foot away, about to reach for the restraints, when the man twisted again, knocking Molly back. His free hand moved, something flashing silver.
Knife.
“Molly!” Gabe yelled and she jumped back in time to avoid the wide swipe of the blade. The man turned the knife on Shoe, but Molly was faster, shooting him in the arm. The blade fell to the floor just as the gun had.
“Shoe, release,” Molly said and, surprise of surprises, Shoe obeyed.
Dad trained him well, Gabe realized, pride for his father warming his chest.
Molly simultaneously grabbed the zip ties from the man’s pocket and planted her boot against the man’s side before shoving him to his back. “Arms to your sides, asshole.” Then she exhaled when he obeyed. “Well, shit.”
Well, shit, indeed.
It was him. The man who’d impersonated Paul Lott. Who’d probably killed him. Who would have killed Xavier. Who would have killed all of us.
The man’s eyes widened in shock before narrowing. “You,” he hissed. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
Molly frowned then nodded briskly. “Because I’m supposed to be in the hospital? Surprise, asshole. I’m just fine.”
So much for keeping a low profile.Pushing his own shock aside, Gabe knelt to gather the man’s weapons and stepped back, giving Molly room to operate.
“Cover me?” she requested. “And shoot the fucker in the head if he so much as twitches.”
“Gladly.” Gabe aimed at the man’s head, not allowing his gaze to wander at all.
“Roll to your stomach,” she commanded, giving their captive a hard kick in the ribs when the man didn’t comply. “Roll. Now.”
“Fucking cunt,” the man muttered, but he obeyed.
Gabe wanted to shoot him for the slur alone, but he managed to control himself. Go, me.
“Arms out,” she snapped, then dropped to her knees when he did. One of her knees landed in the man’s kidney, making him grunt, then moan.
She did that on purpose, Gabe thought, incredibly impressed.
Quickly she restrained his hands, then roughly flipped him to his back. “Who are you?” she demanded coldly.
The man pursed his lips, saying nothing. She gripped her gun and shoved it to his temple. “All three of the others are dead. Start talking or you’re next. Who. Are. You?”
“Maybe he has ID in his wallet,” Gabe said mildly.
Molly’s gaze flicked up to him, then she laughed. “Shit.” Gripping the shoulder of the arm she’d shot and making the man moan, she rolled him to his side so that she could get his wallet. “Here’s his license. Gabe, you’re a genius. He used a fake ID when he posed as Paul Lott, so who knows if this one’s real—but if it is, he’s Nicholas Tobin.” She set the license aside. “Never heard of you. Who hired you?”
Tobin shook his head. “Kill me if you want.”
But there was fear in his eyes. Molly hadn’t missed it, either. “Gabe, can you check on my sister? You okay over there, Chels?”
“Yes,” Chelsea said, the word coming out on a sob.
Now that the danger had passed, Gabe focused his attention on Molly’s sister. She’d slid down the door and was huddled on the floor, her face pressed against her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs. The gun was on the floor at her side, and her body shook with sobs that broke his damn heart.
“Chelsea?” He knelt beside her, afraid to touch her. “I’m Gabe. Are you hurt?”
