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A boom echoed through the chamber, and the guard dropped to the floor, shot squarely in the chest. Braden tossed his smoking pistol aside and charged toward Arthur, who was still motionless at the table, his face contorted in shock.
Suddenly, Arthur came to life. He shoved Girvin out of his way, sending her flying into Stevens, who was fighting MacGowan’s other man. The three went down to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.
The chamber had now descended into a melee, punctuated by the screaming of the children.
Samantha couldn’t get to them, but shecouldget to Arthur.
She darted sideways, just as Arthur rounded the table and flung himself toward the chamber entrance in a desperate attempt to escape. She slashed him across the face. With a cry of pain, he stumbled backwards until he fell against the table.
Samantha brought the tip of her bloody blade near his throat.
“Don’t move,” she snarled, “or I’ll run you through.”
He sagged against the table, holding a trembling hand to his bloodied cheek. “S . . . Samantha, I can explain. None of this was my idea. They forced me to do it.”
“Save your lies, Arthur. You betrayed Roger. You were his best friend, and youkilledhim.”
“Never! It was MacGowan and Girvin who killed Roger,” he babbled. “They were blackmailing me. I . . . I was going to tell you.”
When she pressed the tip of her blade right against his throat, drawing a trickle of blood, Arthur whimpered and fell silent.
“Stop talking,” she gritted out. “Haxton told us everything.”
Her mind was black with rage, darker than midnight. Inside, she shook with the effort to hold back the urge to push her blade right through his throat.
Braden’s firm voice cut through the roar in her head. “Samantha, stop. We have a problem.”
At the sound of his voice, her fury receded a bit. Her husband was now standing right next to her, his features grim and tense. Then she noticed that, except for the muffled sobbing of the children, the room had fallen eerily silent. MacGowan was out cold on the floor, and Donny and Stevens held the other gang members at gunpoint. As for Girvin—
Samantha let out a strangled cry. “Felicity!”
Girvin had managed to get out of the fight and make it across the room to the children. She now stood behind Felicity, one hand dug securely into her hair, the other holding a knife to the girl’s throat.
Panic rose in a choking tide, robbing Samantha of breath.
Braden took her arm. “Steady on, lass. She won’t hurt Felicity.”
“Oh, won’t I? I’ll kill her without a second thought if you get in my way,” Girvin snapped.
When she tugged on Felicity’s hair, the girl whimpered, her wide gaze fastened desperately on Samantha.
Logan took a few steps forward, his empty hands facing up. “You’ll never get away with it, Girvin. Best give it up now.”
She scoffed. “And end up on the gallows with this lot? No bloody way.”
“It’s your brother who’s responsible for most of this,” Logan replied. “And Baines. If you just let Felicity go, we can help you.”
“As if you would help the likes of me,” she answered with contempt. “Now, step back and get out of my way.”
“What are you going to do with Felicity?” Samantha asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Girvin’s attention flickered to her. “I’m not going to keep her, if that’s what you’re asking. Even though you’re a fool, you’ve always treated me with respect. So, once I’m clear and safe, I’ll leave the girl behind. I won’t hurt her unless you make me.”
“And I’m just supposed to believe that?” Samantha asked, her heart thudding. “After everything you’ve done?”
“Seems like you don’t have a choice.” She shoved Felicity forward a step, keeping the knife at her throat.
Samantha knew they couldn’t let Girvin escape. The woman was desperate and capable of anything, including murder.
