AllFreeNovel
Share Us
That bastard.
Wilson had little Hope on the ground. Fighting him. She was fighting him. That little girl. His Hope. That bastard was on top of her. Pawing at her like that. Ripping her TSP polo, exposing her bra to the night. “Wilson! Fucking get off of her! Now! She’s just a damned kid! You are not going to do that to her!”
“Kimball, what the hell are you doing here? You weren’t invited to this party, man. Heard the shots. Costovia finished with his bitch already?” The man was laughing, enjoying Hope’s struggling. Putting his hands on her like that. “Didn’t even last ten minutes, playing with that one! Was there not enough fight in her or had Acardi already wore her out before Joey got to her?”
Laughing. Wilson was laughing. While he had his hands around Hope’s throat like that.
Sol knew what was going to happen tonight. He just knew it. Wilson wasn’t going to get away. Not now.
He’d take the bastard to the TSP and throw him at Daniel McKellen’s feet for this. Or Murdoch Lake’s. Lake was a bit pissy where his wife’s family was concerned. Overprotective. He’d seen it before when Lake had warned a real asshole away from Heather once.
“Costovia’s dead. So’s Bell.” And Sol didn’t regret what he had done one damned fucking bit. That sobered Wilson up, though. Fast. He and Costovia went back years. Friends.
“What happened to Joey?” Wilson stood. He yanked Hope up by that dark hair of hers. It wasn’t hard to do, as small as she was. As hurt.
The girl whimpered and twisted. Tried to fight. Sol looked down at her once. In the moonlight, she looked so much like his baby girl. Helpless and hurting and afraid.
Standing there, at the mercy of a man who should have done her better.
“I killed the bastard. That’s what happened to him. Killed Bell, too. Really enjoyed flattening his ass with his own damned car. You’re next, Wilson. I’m going to make you hurt for every damned bruise you caused that girl right there. Any woman, but especially her. Her, and her older sister. I know what you did.” Sol couldn’t take Wilson down in hand-to-hand. Bastard was too big for that, younger and far stronger. “I know what you did to them, you sick fuck.”
Sol had the upper hand now. With the weapon in his hand pointed at Wilson’s head. Wilson never should have put his gun down. A damned rookie mistake, on Wilson’s part. But hell, bastard had been cocky—felt powerful, having a girl like that. Terrified. While he did what he wanted. To little Hope. “Let go of her. Let go of that girl right now.”
Wilson laughed. “You going to stop me? You don’t have the damned balls to shoot me. You just do what you’re told, Kimball, like always. Good little sheep. That’s all you are. A damned puppet. And I’m the one who has been pulling your strings. Go wait by the car, pal. I’m busy right now. Been waiting to get this little bitch beneath me for a long, long time.”
Wilson’s filthy hand wrapped around Hope’s delicate neck. Squeezed.
Hope was drawing in big gasping breaths. One little hand was on her chest, pressing. The other was pulling on Wilson’s wrist. Trying to claw him away. “He wants to hurt my sister. He wants to hurt Heather, Detective Kimball. To hurt her again. I can’t let him hurt her again, I just can’t. Please, help me. Please.”
Those words—stabbed him straight in the heart, sharper than the sharpest arrow. How many times in the last few months had he imagined his Maribeth’s last words being just those? Please help me, Daddy. Please.
More times than he could count.
“Honey, I’m not going to let him hurt her like that again. Ever again. He won’t put his filthy hands on your sister again, peanut. I promise. You just stay still, okay? I’ll make it okay. I promise.” Words he had never gotten to say to his daughter just came pouring out. To the girl looking at him now. So much like his girl. So much. “I’ll make it okay. I promise. You’ll be safe. I promise. I’ll make it better. Do some damned good for once.”
“And just how are you going to do that?” Wilson asked, then laughed again. Like what Sol felt meant nothing to him. Because it didn’t. Well, she meant everything to Sol. Everything. “I am going to have my fun with her. Then I’m going to find my wife.”
“Heather’s not your wife, stupid. You too dumb to remember that or what? She dumped your ass less than two months after she took pity on you and dated you, remember? Everyone’s entitled to one stupid mistake in life—you were hers.” Hope was kicking at him. Trying to fight. But she was so damned small. It was almost pointless. “You and Heather were never married! You don’t own my sister! She is not yours! Ever!”
“I own that bitch, and always will.” Wilson yanked her around. Reached out and knocked her to the ground. Followed her down. Sol would never forget the sound of her hitting the ground like that.
A defenseless little thing like Hope Coleson couldn’t fight the monsters of the world.
She just couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
But Sol? Sol could fight them for her.
He sighted up. And fired.
82
Haldyn screamed. When she saw the blood bloom on Wilson’s light-colored shirt. Hope cried out. Haldyn tried to go to her, to make sure Hope was okay.
Kimball grabbed Haldyn by the arm. “No. Not yet. I have to make sure he’s not armed.”
He went to the man he’d just shot. Kicked the man’s gun away, just like he’d been trained to do. “Hope, honey, you can get up now. He’s down. Unarmed. It’s almost over.”
“I’ve been shot. Hal—the bullet got me, too. What do I do? What am I supposed to do now?”
