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“I was coming in to help you. Thank goodness with you scaring so easily.”
I roll my eyes. “Funny. I told you to go to Paul’s and wait for me.”
“I was on my way, but then I heard gunshots and came back.” Her eyes are glassy, and she takes a shuddering breath. “I thought they were going to hurt you.”
“Now they’ll hurt you instead. Not a good trade-off. There’s no sense wasting time arguing over something we can’t change. I have to get you out of here.”
Footsteps draw our attention, so we still our bodies to listen. Glancing back at her, she points upstairs. I mouth, “You sure?”
She nods.
Leaning in, I kiss her cheek and then keep my voice low against her ear. “I’m getting up. You go to Paul’s and do not stop for anything. Do you understand?”
“Stay alive.” Kissing me, she whispers, “For me. I love you.”
“I’ll do my damnedest. I love you. Now go.”
As soon as she’s moving, I’m up, covering her as she runs back out the door, catching it with my foot before it clangs against the frame again. Then I hit the wall that leads upstairs, my guns ready to fire. Studying the staircase, I’m out of options. If they hear me going up there, I’ll be dead before I hit the landing. My other choice is to wait them out. I choose the second option as it seems to support me living longer.
Now I need to find the closest exit. The living room has no coverage, so I head for the kitchen. As soon as I do, I turn, staring right into the cylinder of a silencer. Fuck.
“Drop the guns,” he says.
I don’t recognize this asshole, so I don’t know what he’s capable of. I set the guns down because unfortunately, escaping isn’t an option when you’re staring into the eyes of the Grim Reaper. “Who are you and what the fuck do you want?”
“First off, save your questions. I’ll give you all the information you need, and in return, you’ll give me what you owe my boss.”
“Which is?”
He looks annoyed by my follow-up, but replies, “$57,850.”
“You must have come to the wrong farm because I don’t owe your boss, or anyone else, jack shit.”
He laughs under his breath. “Likely story. Look, don’t make this difficult. I’m just here to do my job.”
“Which is?” I repeat the earlier question, thinking I might be able to tangle this guy’s mind enough to distract him.
“Collect the money or serve a death sentence, Cutler. So pay up or say goodbye.”
“Cutler?” I can’t even find relief because leave it to Cutler to endanger all of our lives. “You have the wrong guy. He doesn’t live here.”
“If we had a dollar for every time we heard that—”
“If you’re going to hold me accountable for him, I want to know why he owes you money?” Figures that fucker is responsible for this shitstorm.
Prodding the gun to my chest, he says, “This is his address, so if you’re not him, damn, sucks for you because I can’t exactly let you walk away.” Tilting his head to the side, he leans in enough for me to memorize every rotten feature of his ugly face. “So tell me. Who are you?”
I’ve learned how to play this game. They like dirt and to feel like you’re akin to them, one of them, not above. Their egos are too fragile for that. Keeping calm under pressure, I say, “I’m the guy fucking his wife.” The bitter aftertaste of those words lingers on my tongue. “Ex-wife.”
“Ex?” He sighs but doesn’t lower the gun. In fact, he nudges my nose with it. Asshole.
“Too bad. It seems you’re in the wrong place at the wrong fucking time.”
I hear the cock of the gun and hope to God Delilah is safely across that field. If I’m going down, it’s not something I want her to bear witness to.
A floorboard creaks, drawing his attention. Maybe Cutler will come in handy. Using the distraction, I jack my knee into his groin as hard as I can, causing him to fall just as he pulls the trigger. The bullet narrowly missing my ear when I drop to retrieve my guns. Both of us wrestle until I win, pinning him and standing over him with both guns aimed down—one at his head and one at his dick.
I kick his gun across the floor and then toe him in the shoulder. “Why does Cutler owe you money?”
“Shit card players shouldn’t enter backroom poker tournaments.”
“Stand. Slowly. Keep your hands up and visible.” I could shoot this guy in the head right now, but what do I do with Cutler? I’m going to have to deal with him differently despite my desire to end him.
“Look, buddy. I get that you’re not Cutler. It’s a simple mistake. No harm, no foul. I’ll just get out of your way so you can get back to fucking his ex.”
