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***
The wind picks up, cutting across my face, snapping me back to the present.
The memory of what happened all those years ago feels dim tonight. Learning that Avery and Thomas planned on killing my woman lights a different kind of fire in me. One that burns under my ribs, right where I hope I have a heart left.
At the very least, I can still protect my redbird before it’s too late.
The waiting is over.
I shift my weight and Shadow begins moving down the hill. Jack and Westin fall into step behind me. We’ve never hunted together like this, but we all know what to do.
We’ll work quickly, we’ll get in and get out. We’ll do the Lord’s work and do it well.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
GERARD
Jack wants to be diplomatic. Westin is just here for a good time so he doesn’t care how we do this. I open the door and walk right in.
No one locks their doors this far out.
Diane Garrison is in the hall in a slip and a terrycloth robe. She stumbles back, her mouth moving as she tries to scream. Westin skirts around me and snatches her around the waist. His hand goes over her mouth and he hauls her back against his body.
Her eyes widen, terror making her pupils blow.
“Hush, darling,” he says. “We’re not here for you.”
Her hips buck and her bare foot kicks back into his shin so hard he lets out a soft, “Fuck!” under his breath.
“Where is your husband?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
Her eyes dart down the hall before she can stop herself. I lean in and I can see the shape of two men on the back porch. The cherry tip of twin cigarettes burns in the dark.
“Take her to the kitchen,” I say.
He picks her up, hand still clamped over her mouth, and carries her into the kitchen to our left.
My eyes meet Jack’s and he nods. He has his revolver at the level of his eyes, his hat pulled low. His face is covered in a dark bandanna. I took off my hat and my face is bare.
I want them to see—to know it’s me—when I kill them.
Jack follows at my heels as I make my way down the hall. If we were going after anyone but the Garrison brothers, I would have used Diane to pull them out. But Thomas doesn’t care if I put a gun to his wife’s head. I’ve already witnessed how they treat their women.
Silently, I pull the glass door open.
Then I train my gun on the back of Avery’s head.
“Keep still,” I say.
They both whirl and Jack’s gun whips up and points at Thomas. It takes a moment for their eyes to adjust, but then the color drains from their faces.
“Guns out of your belts and on the ground,” I order.
They hesitate and Jack cocks his revolver. The sound spurs Thomas into action. He’s always been the weak Garrison. He takes the pistol from the small of his back and drops it to the porch, kicking it behind him. Avery holds out a moment longer, but then he flicks his cigarette and throws his gun away.
“Walk inside,” I say.
Jack keeps the door wide open. I back down the hall, my gun glued to them. The door falls shut and Jack takes the rear, his gun a foot from Thomas’s head. The youngest Garrison is shivering.
