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Sherlock shouted over her shoulder, “It’s the other guard. He’s trying to kill them! Molly, don’t move. Mr. Shaker, that was a fine shot. Please stay here with Eve, guard the door and this idiot.” She was out of the bedroom in the next instant. The rifle fire in the closed confines of the stairwell was deafening and it was constant. She felt spit dry in her mouth. Any one of those bullets could kill Dillon, could kill any of them. She crept toward a turn in the hallway, heard Dillon’s sharp voice. “No, keep back, Mason!”
He was all right, he was all right.Sherlock dropped to her knees and crawled around the corner to see all three men crouched near the top of the stairs, guns in their hands. But they weren’t semiautomatics. The continuous rifle fire sent shards of ceiling plaster raining down on them. Suddenly the gunfire stopped. Was the shooter out of bullets? Did he have another gun, another magazine ready to slam into place? A single second and he’d be firing again. She nearly cried out when she saw Dillon step out and stand at the top of the stairs. He calmly fired one shot. She heard a man groan, heard him fall.
Sherlock nearly threw up when her fear changed so fast to relief. She shouted, “Dillon, there was only one guard outside. This one’s the only guard in the house. You got him. It’s safe now. But please make sure he’s down.”
At the sound of her voice, Savich felt a boulder fall off his chest. “I’ll be right there!” He ran down the stairs to check on the man who lay at the bottom, on his side, an AR-15 still clutched in his hands, breathing hard. Savich dropped to his knees, studied the man’s face. He was young, his dark eyes glazed with pain and his face as pale as the plaster. “I shot you in the shoulder. Apply pressure or you’ll bleed to death, and don’t move.” Savich picked up the AR-15, quickly turned to see Sherlock racing down the stairs, a gun in her hand. “You got him! I knew he’d be no match for you!” and she leaped at him. He laughed, caught her, hugged her close. He kissed her over and over, his hands on her face and in her tangled hair. He hugged her again so hard she squeaked. He buried his face in her hair.
Ramsey and Mason ran to the open bedroom door to see Rule Shaker standing over a moaning Doulos on the floor, and Eve holding a gun on another woman. Molly was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding her side, a gun in her hand. She saw him and tried to rise. “Ramsey.”
“Don’t move!” He was at her side in a second. “You’re hurt, where?”
“It’s my side, the bullet went through. Really, Ramsey, I’m more than okay now you’re here.” She stopped, swallowed. It was over, really over. It was hard to take in. She’d prayed so hard and Sherlock had kept promising her all would be well, but still she’d felt such fear, and—Ramsey was here. Molly heaved out a deep breath, ran her fingers over his face. “When we heard the gunfire, I was never so scared in my life. You could have been shot, killed. But then Sherlock ran out and I knew she’d take care of things, right?”
Ramsey smiled, kissed her pale mouth, pressed his forehead against hers, and took deep breaths. He gently removed the gun and laid it on the bed beside her. “I’m sure Sherlock would have saved the day but Savich took care of things before she had a chance. It’s over, Molly.” He looked at Doulos on his side on the floor holding his arm and moaning. “That’s Rich Doulos?”
Molly nodded. “Yes, not much, is he? He had big plans, Ramsey, and he was going to kill us.” She smiled, called out, “Thank you for shooting him, Mr. Shaker.”
“Believe me, it was my pleasure.”
Molly looked up to see her father standing in the doorway. He and Rule Shaker were staring at each other. Mason said, his voice stiff, “I see you’ve got everything under control, Rule. Thank you for texting me where to find Molly.”
Shaker shrugged. “She’s your daughter, Mason. I thought you should know.”
Domino ran out the door before anyone could stop her. Ramsey said, “She won’t get far. Savich and Sherlock are out there.”
They heard Savich shout, heard the sounds of a struggle. Sherlock’s voice called out, “Domino, stop fighting me. It’s over.”
Molly burrowed into Ramsey’s chest. He rocked her, careful of her side, whispered against her ear, “Emma and the twins are fine, in Chicago, wrestling with Gunther and eating Miles’s chocolate chip cookies.”
“Sherlock and I nearly escaped. That’s when I got shot. Sherlock took care of me, promised me I’d be fine. Bless Domino, she gave me oxycodone. The pain’s still only a low throb.” Ramsey kissed her again, and kissed her three more times, careful to keep his weight off her.
Mason stood beside the bed, looking down at his daughter, cradled in her husband’s arms. She was pale, too pale. He hoped she wasn’t in pain. He said, “Your new stepmother and I are going to get you out of here, Molly. She’s back on my jet.” His stern face broke into a smile. “She’s guarding the pilot.”
