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“We know. They’re parked out front. We think they’re waiting for someone. She knows to go out the back door. We’re sending the rope down for her.” He tugged on the harness, and someone up above started lifting her.
“You don’t understand,” she said, grasping his hand, trying to make him listen, before it was too late. It was her fault. Dex had suspected her when she’d tried to get Trevor to leave that first time when he’d gone off to the store. “She can’t get out the back. Dex nailed the door shut.”
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Sam stared at Allegra, seconds slipping away, hoping he’d heard wrong. So much for Plan B, he thought as someone knocked at the front door.
Sam leaned out the window, telling Chad, “Hold up.”
He looked at Allegra, trapped in the harness, hanging in the window, probably scared to death about her son. Right now, he needed her help in evening out the odds. “Any way you can get Dex up here?”
“Promise you won’t kill him?”
A promise he couldn’t make. “I’ll try not to.”
Her gaze flicked to the doorway and then nodded. Sam helped her out of the harness. She looked back at him and stepped out into the stairwell. “Dex!” she shouted. “Trevor’s gone!”
Dex swore, his heavy footsteps echoing in the stairwell as he ran up. Once again, Sam helped Allegra onto the sill and into the harness, giving the rope a firm tug.
She reached out, her eyes pleading. “He wasn’t always this way.”
The moment Chad started lifting her out, Sam hid behind the door, listening for Dex.
By the time Dex reached the attic, the knocking at the front door growing more insistent, he’d slowed considerably, his breathing labored. “Allegra!” He saw her feet disappearing out the open window, and he rushed toward her, his gun drawn.
Sam crossed the room, jamming the nose of his Smith & Wesson into Dex’s ribs. “Nice of you to join us,” he said, grabbing Dex’s shoulder, forcing him back and off-balance. “Drop the gun.”
Dex held tight. “You know who’s at the door? They’ll kill you.”
Sam slammed him to the floor. “Make a sound, and I’ll use you as my shield. Let go of the gun,” he said, this time jabbing the barrel of his .38 into the base of Dex’s skull. When Dex loosened his grip on the weapon, Sam grabbed it, dropping it into his pocket, as they heard the sound of shattering glass downstairs, then someone trying to shoulder open the front door. “Move, or make any noise, you’ll regret it. Understand?”
Dex nodded.
Sam moved toward the stairwell, hearing wood splintering as the door was
kicked in, a man shouting, “Dex! Where are you?”
Sam looked over at him, putting his finger to his lips.
“The attic!” Dex shouted, giving Sam a triumphant look at the sound of someone running up the stairs. “They know you’re h—”
Sam pointed his gun at Dex. “I was trying to be nice.”
Dex’s mouth clamped shut, his eyes going wide.
The sharp crack echoed off the walls. Dex screamed, as he rolled onto his side, gripping his thigh.
Now that he didn’t have to worry about an attack from that direction, Sam turned back to the stairwell as Frank reached the landing.
Sam fired.
Frank ducked back. “Fargo’s here!”
“Kill him!”
What Sam didn’t hear was anyone mentioning Remi’s name. He took that as a good sign, his eye on the landing below. Frank peered around the corner.
Sam fired again, keeping him contained. Time to even the odds. “Is Arthur with you?”