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There was a bed by the window, covered with crumpled dirty sheets. No closet, so there was no surprise fourth man. In the corner, facing the wall, was a small, thin, blonde girl. She was covering her head with her arm and crying. Izzy sighed and took her finger off the trigger of her shotgun. The girl was alive, that was all that mattered. Anything else could be dealt with, healed, with time and care. Izzy looked over her shoulder and listened to the sound of the men being dragged outside. It was probably better if the girl didn’t have to see them. They could stay here, in this room, until the proper authorities came.
“Shooter,” Izzy said.
“Izzy?”
“Can you call RCPD and get an ambulance, too?”
“Will do, Iz.”
Izzy stepped into the room and got a better view. It was littered with fast food bags, empty soda and beer cans, and the trashcan by her right foot was loaded with condoms. She bit her lower lip. Thanks to her absent mother, Izzy didn’t have much in the way of maternal instinct, but she was still a better bet than any of the six-foot Army Rangers outside. She set the safety on her Mossberg and leaned it against the wall. She didn’t know how much it mattered, but she tried to appear as non-threatening as possible.
“Hey,” she said quietly. “I’m Izzy.”
The girl didn’t reply. Izzy moved to the foot of the bed and debated whether or not to just sit with her until real help came.
“I’m from Denver. I’ve been looking for you. So many people want you home, Darla.”
It’s funny the way that the perception of time is always colored by the circumstances of the moment. Happy moments, like the ones when she was in bed with Caleb, feeling him moving inside her and always wanting more, never seemed to last as long as she wanted them to. Moments of doubt or fear, though, seemed to stretch out endlessly before her. If Izzy could have seen the girl’s face, she would have known which moment they were living in. Her ability to read people would have ensured a different outcome. But Izzy hadn’t seen her face. Not when she first looked in the room and not even after she entered it. Not until it was too late.
Sixteen-year-old Darla Hale wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt, then she turned and raised a nine millimeter. The inner brass ring of the muzzle glinted at Izzy. H and K, if she wasn’t mistaken, because black moments really did seem to go on forever.
Chapter 31
“Get down,” Caleb told Jace.
The younger man glared at him. “Fuck you.”
Caleb kicked him behind the knees and he dropped to the grass alongside his two friends.
“You’re gonna die for this,” Jeter shouted. He was sprawled on the front lawn, bleeding from his feet. Caleb hadn’t seen the actual shot but given the condition of the kitchen floor, it appeared as though Izzy had aimed for the yellowed linoleum right in front of the man’s toes. The floor had taken the worst of the impact while the scatter had hit Jeter’s feet and ankles like shrapnel. It still hurt like a bitch, Caleb was certain, but Jeter still had all his little piggies, and they were all headed to jail instead of the morgue.
“It was a good shot,” Hawk replied, watching Caleb assessing the injured man. “Kept her head, played it smart.”
“Probably saved your ass from getting shot,” Tex teased.
Hawk frowned. “Let’s not go that far. I had him,” he insisted. “But Izzy beat me to him. There’s no—”
“Hey!” Jeter shouted. “Do you hear me? Are you listening? You ain’t cops! You ain’t shit. And you have no idea who you’re—”
Shooter stepped over Jeter, stopped in front of Jace and the man with no name—or wallet, Caleb had discovered. Shooter leaned down toward them. “You know me?” he asked.
Jace gave him a dirty look before turning his head away.
“I said,” Shooter repeated, “do you know me?”
After a second of silence, Jace replied, “Yeah. I know you. Don’t matter,” he said haughtily. “When Preacher finds out—”
“Who do you think told me where to find you?”
Jace looked shocked.
“Bullshit” the nameless man snapped.
Easy cuffed him in the back of the head. “Hey, who is this guy, anyway?” he asked the others. “Does Izzy get paid extra for a bonus bad guy?”
“Depends,” Caleb replied, “on whether or not he has warrants on him.”
The man’s face darkened. Easy grinned. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Look at his face. This here’s a wanted man.”
“Well, he can add kidnapping and accessory to whatever else he’s got,” Caleb said. “Plus, whatever he did to that little girl.”
“Do to her? I didn’t do shit to her!”
“Fuck you,” Jeter spat. “You think you know me? You don’t know shit about shit! You think—”
