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The Voice of Doom leaned against the back door. A lecherous gleam lit his eyes. He aimed a black handgun at them.
“Oh, don’t get shy on me now, Red. I’d just love to hear all the details.”
Chapter Ten
His nerves taut, Jake took in the details of the situation. The stairs were at their backs. The dining room was in front of them. The gunman blocked the closest exit. It was the same nutjob from the Jeep fire, who’d been threatening Claire and had more than likely killed Kendall. He’d changed his clothes and shaved his head, but Jake couldn’t mistake him or his malicious intent. Not with a 9mm Browning trained on Claire’s heart.
“That was some scream.” The killer lifted his glassy-eyed gaze toward Jake, but kept the gun pointed at Claire. “You’ll have to share your secret with me after this is over. I can make the girls yell, but it’s never my name.”
Claire shook at his side. His protective urge stoked the fury rushing through his veins. That bastard would pay for making her life hell. The tweaker had some drug-powered aggression on his side, but Jake had no doubt he’d take the killer down. He hunched his shoulders like a lineman about to make a tackle and prepared to take out the lunatic.
The gun’s ominous click stopped him cold.
“Loverboy, I’ve got no beef with you.” He stepped closer to Claire, his movements jerky. “But if pushed, I’ll kill you both.”
Jake ground his teeth, his fists tight by his thighs. He wanted to howl in frustration. They’d wanted the killer to appear on her doorstep. But he’d let his dick and her sweet body distract him from the real reason he was here. To protect Claire. Now they were at this asshole’s mercy instead of it being the other way around. He’d been a damn fool.
He grabbed Claire’s forearm and tried to pull her behind him to shield her from the maniac. But she wouldn’t go. Short of picking her up and moving her, there was no way to force her to the rear. He couldn’t risk the killer panicking if he made that kind of move.
She took a step toward the gunman. Terror like he’d never known before gripped his spine. He moved in her direction, ready to do whatever it took to defend her.
“I have the phone and flash drive.”
Her quiet words made him freeze in his tracks. His heart stopped for a moment. Could she have been lying all along? Was she involved more than he knew? Doubt nibbled away at him.
She stood halfway between his arms and the killer’s gun. The hostess stand was just beyond her grasp. He spotted the tell-tale wet glisten on her cheeks. He refused to believe she’d lied to him. Not his Claire.
“I found them this morning in the bar when Jake brought up a new keg from storage.” She reached the polished hostess stand and casually leaned on it with one hand.
Tension seeped from his body. Jake fought to keep the ah-ha look off his face. There was no keg this morning. Except for the slight tremble of her hands, he’d be hard-pressed to see throug
h her story if he hadn’t been here himself.
Her gaze stayed trained on the killer’s face and no stutter gave her away. Most people panicked at the business end of a handgun, and for good reason. But not Claire. She’d come up with a plan to buy time. What a woman.
“Well, goodie.” The man took a step forward, sweat beading on his upper lip, a tic making his right hand twitch as it held the gun. “Let’s go get them.”
She cast her head down and looked at him demurely through her lashes.
“How about a beer or a coffee while you wait?” She spoke the words as if the psycho had arrived early for a reservation. Obviously, Claire had chosen the role of good cop. No problem. The idea of taking a few phonebooks or rubber batons to this creep appealed to the dark place in Jake’s soul, especially after all the asshole had put her through.
“Tempting as that offer is, I’m going to turn it down considering I don’t want to leave fingerprints and all. Now get moving, Sweetcheeks.”
Jake’s fingers itched to wrap around this guy’s throat, but the tweaker had the 9mm too close to Claire. He couldn’t risk it. The killer waved the gun in the bar’s direction.
She walked across the dining room until she was within Jake’s grasp. He reached out and squeezed her hand. Holding her delicate hand in his reminded him how high the stakes were. In that moment, a calm certainty settled on him. He’d take a bullet for her, whatever it took to keep her safe.
Her steps seemed confident, but he spotted her worrying her bottom lip. He had to get the upper hand. Soon. They couldn’t delay much longer.
A few distracted seconds, that’s all he needed. This guy was sloppy. He guarded Jake in a perfunctory manner, as if it was all for show. Did he have backup hidden away? Jake didn’t get that vibe and hadn’t spotted anyone else, but he couldn’t be sure. It wouldn’t take much to get a drop on the killer, but if he failed, Claire would pay the price. That couldn’t happen.
She rambled about the restaurant’s history all the way to the barroom. Grace under pressure is what the old man would call it.
“We found this bar at auction in Cheyenne. Rumor has it Wild Bill Hickok sat at this bar in his Pony Express days.” She stopped at the same spot in front of the wooden bar where she’d stood when they’d met. Right next to the water hose she’d sprayed him down with. “He might have had a shot of water, or something stronger, bellied up to this very bar.”
God love her, she had come up with the perfect diversion. It just might work. He tried to relax his muscles. If the killer saw Jake was tense and ready to make a move, Claire’s plan wouldn’t work. A forced calm washed over him as he waited for just the right moment to attack.
“Fascinating. Really. I could sit her for hours forgetting about what I came here for. What was it now?” the psycho sneered. “Oh yeah, the phone and flash drive.”
