AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Pulling up behind the other car, he put his truck in park and reached into the glove compartment to retrieve the gun he kept stashed there for moments just like this. Well, perhaps notjustlike this, since he’d never expected to be in another situation where the woman he loved was in mortal danger, but any situation where he might find himself in need of a firearm at a moment’s notice.
Gun in hand, he stepped out of the car, scanning the row of homes in front of him for any sign of movement. Anything that might tell him where they were holed up.
He didn’t have to wait long. Just as he’d decided to start with the two houses MaryAnn had parked between, the door to one opened and a familiar figure tumbled through the doorway.
Racing up the front walk, he dragged Shannon into the grass, away from the open door before ripping the duct tape from her mouth. “Is MaryAnn in there?” he whispered, running his hands over her to check for any obvious injuries.
“He has her upstairs. Jesus Christ, Dean, I’m fine. Go get your woman!”
“I’m going. The cops are on their way. Stay here.”
The look she sent him was so withering he nearly laughed. “Yeah, like I’m going anywhere,” she shot back sarcastically, holding up her still bound hands.
“I wouldn’t put it past you, sweetheart. Is he armed?”
“Yes. Gun. Now fuckinghurry.”
Fuck. As much as he hated to leave her there on the lawn, he needed to get to MaryAnn. With his own weapon at the ready, he hurried up to the house, slowing only when he stepped inside, testing the floorboards to ensure they didn’t creak under his weight and alert his quarry.
Voices drifted down from the second floor. Keeping his back pressed to the wall, he slowly crept up the stairs, straining to hear what they were saying.
“...Perhaps I should take a page out of your friends’ books and punish you for your betrayal. I didn’t think you were the type who needed regular beatings to keep you in line, but obviously I was wrong.”
Motherfucker. He’d obviously been watching the Monroes more closely than anyone had realized.
“I’m so sorry, Nate. I-I don’t know what got into me. I had the gun in my hand and I just, I panicked. I’m sorry.”
MaryAnn’s voice was surprisingly steady. He’d expected her to sound panicked, but if anything, she sounded more cool and collected than he’d ever heard her despite the slight tremble in her voice. And even though that didn’t ring true for him, it was realistic enough to convince pretty much anyone else. Including Nate.
Good girl.
“I suppose that was my fault, then. Thinking I could trust a woman to keep her cool under pressure. It’s a mistake I won’t be making again.”
Those words and the empty, cold tone they were spoken in froze Dean in place, a fear he’d only felt once before in his life gripping him with icy claws. He was only halfway up the stairs, and if he moved too quickly, he risked alerting the man with the gun. Too slow, and he risked not reaching her in time.
One way or another, she was going to die, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“It won’t happen again, I swear, Nate.”
“You’re right. Goodbye, my love.”
The deafeningcrackof the gunshot jolted him back to reality and he went charging up the stairs, images of MaryAnn bleeding out in his arms already crowding his mind.
And so it took him a moment to grasp what he was seeing when he found her rolling around on the filthy floor of the third room he came to, her face not only full of life but bright with a fury he’d never seen before. Nathaniel’s expression was just as stunned as Dean felt, and it was clear his surprise had cost him whatever advantage he’d thought he’d had.
But since he still held a gun in the hand MaryAnn was now banging against the floorboards, Dean stepped into the room and leveled his own at the other man’s head. “Drop the weapon. Now.”
The pair stopped in the middle of their wrestling match to stare at him, looking so much like a scene from a movie it might have been hilarious on the silver screen. But in real life, all he could think of was how close he was to losing her.
His training was more than sufficient to take Nate down. Subdue, restrain, wait for the cops. It was the right and moral thing to do.
Right and moral were nothing when weighed against his babygirl’s peace of mind. Shifting his gaze for just a second from the man on the floor to her fierce expression, any lingering doubts he had were dashed with her small, almost imperceptible nod.
Nathaniel Cooke died from a single gunshot wound to the head at nine forty-three a.m. on a crisp Tuesday morning in December.
Without a second glance for the man who’d been her lover, MaryAnn leapt to her feet and all but threw herself into Dean’s arms. “Oh god, oh god, oh god! I thought—he had a gun. But you came for me.”
“Of course, I came for you, babygirl. What kind of Daddy would I be if I let anything happen to you?”
