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“You’re not even sixty.”
“That’s still too old to go to prison.”
Holy shit. I won’t even ask what’s wrong with Barclay Reed. Obviously everything. Sure, he’s seemingly confirming everything Lund told me on the beach. But one thing is crystal clear—and far more important—right now: Bethany is in danger.
I don’t care about the rest of the conversation. Sure, I have more questions. Eventually I’ll want to understand. But now I only care about keeping Bethany alive.
Barclay having a baseball bat concerns the hell out of me. I can’t let him whack me unconscious like Lund or I’ll be no good to Beth. I need the element of surprise. Or I need help.
Suddenly, I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder.
Startled, I whirl and find Paul Daniels and his loud shirt behind me, holding a finger to his lips.
He wants me to be quiet? Fuck that. I can’t leave Beth to Barclay’s mercy. He clearly has none because, just like she said, he’s a sociopath. He cares only about himself.
I wrench from Daniels’s grasp, ready to charge forward, focused on how I’m going to stop Bethany’s father. This time, her former client wraps his beefy fingers around my arm and hauls me back and shoots me a silent, thunderous scowl before motioning me to be quiet again. Why? Is he looking to use the element of surprise against Barclay? Or Beth?
Then he withdraws a 9mm pistol from his pocket and flashes me a terrible smile. My blood runs cold.
Emphatically, I shake my head. He can’t hurt her. He can’t snuff Bethany Banks out of my life.
I’m not ready to live without her.
That realization blows me away, but I have to compartmentalize it for now and deal with the threat in front of me.
“Run, Beth! Go!”
Hoping like hell she can escape her father, I turn to face Daniels, prepared to stand between her and his bullet.
The shorter man pushes me out of the way with a snarl. “Stupid son of a bitch.”
As I hear pounding footsteps thundering off the porch and into the dusk, my shoulder bounces against the wall. I whirl toward Daniels, as Barclay comes around the corner with a killing glare all over his face—directed at me.
Until he sees his former client holding the gun.
He pales and holds up both hands, shaking his head. “Paul… I’m glad you’re here. You can help me make that little blond thief pay for all the pain she’s put us all through. She wants everyone to think I tried to frame her but—”
“Fuck you, Reed. It’s over. I overheard everything you said. If anyone was set up, it was her. After all, you had no problem offering her to me as incentive to invest. Everything you’ve done is even more appalling now that I know she’s your daughter. What kind of father tries to destroy his own kid? And what kind of asshole steals the fortune a dying man wants to leave to his children? You deserve to rot in hell, you motherfucking scumbag.” Daniels raises the gun.
“No!” Barclay pleads.
“Don’t!” Suddenly, I hear Beth’s voice and look up to find her standing ten feet past her father’s shoulder. “He’s done terrible things, I know. And I’m sorry about your cancer. But we can’t take justice into our own hands.”
The way I did.
“Believe me, I thought about it,” she goes on. “Once I realized what he’d done to me, there were times I really wanted to, but his fate isn’t up to you. Or me. I didn’t want to throw away the rest my life for him. Do you? Honestly?”
“My life is already over,” he growls.
Daniels is going to pull the damn trigger. I can hear it in his voice.
In that split second, I see Bethany lunging toward her father like she intends to do whatever it takes to save him. I can’t let her. Daniels isn’t going to mete out justice, but cold-blooded murder.
I have a single instant to choose, but there’s no choice at all. I have to protect Bethany, even if that means her father dies. She must live.
With a roaring leap, I tackle her out of harm’s way just as Barclay’s former client pulls the trigger.
His shot shatters the quiet paradise. Nearby birds squawk and fly to the safety of the skies. Tourists in the bar scream. People charge out. And Bethany’s father crumples to the concrete in a bloody heap.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Are you all right?” I ask Bethany.
It’s been hours since the shooting. Since her father died right before her eyes. Barclay Reed was a callous son of a bitch who died faster and easier than he deserved. After all, he’s the reason my own father is gone, and I’m fucking glad to see the justice I came to Maui for has finally been served. But that barely registers now. I’m focused on Bethany, on the horror and wrenching sadness she’s struggling through after watching the man she looked up to her entire childhood unexpectedly and violently take his last breath.
