Page 70 of Killer Honeymoon
Her bravery in such a traumatic situation helped ease Sawyer’s nerves. Royce inched forward until he was a foot away from the archway leading into the dining room. Sawyer tiptoed up behind him and leaned against the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. Royce turned his head and searched Sawyer’s gaze to assess his readiness while simultaneously communicating his love. There was no way in hell Sawyer would permit those to be their final moments. He nodded fiercely and tensed in preparation. Royce gave a thumbs-up toward the patio door, then they both lifted their clubs over their heads and poised to strike. A loud knock immediately sounded.
“Who the hell is that?” Gary snarled.
“Probably Evan,” Clint replied. “His family always uses a back or side door. Front doors are for guests.”
“Get up,” Gary said. “You will answer the door just like you did when the two fruit loops came over.”
Royce and Sawyer exchanged a horrified glance. They should’ve anticipated he’d use Chrissy as a human shield.
They heard her shuffling feet approaching along with his heavier tread.
“Quit stalling, you stupid bitch,” Gary complained.
Chrissy let out a scream. “Stop pulling my hair.”
Sawyer immediately pictured the likely scenario. Gary had one hand in her hair, forcing her to walk in front of him. That meant he probably had the shotgun propped against his shoulder or gut with the other and aimed in front of him. If Gary got close enough, the gun’s position wouldn’t matter. He just needed to reach the trigger to cause massive damage.
“Girlie,” Gary said, “you better stop fighting me, or I’ll end you right in front of your friends.”
Jen started crying harder, and Clint pleaded with Chrissy to cooperate. It felt like an eternity as they listened to the shuffling and stomping coming closer. Sawyer had the club gripped so tight his fingers were starting to tingle, so he eased up on his grip just enough to let the blood flow to his fingertips.
Finally, the shotgun emerged through the archway. Sawyer was surprised to see a large section of the barrel had been sawed off, making the blast from the firearm even more deadly. They wouldn’t survive if Gary shot one of them at this range. Sawyer could tell by the gun’s height that Gary had the stock braced against his shoulder or chest. With the shorter barrel length, it would’ve been easier to wield one-armed.
Everything around Sawyer stilled, and he directed all his focus to the approaching gun. He was poised, waiting for Royce to land the first blow. His heart stuttered when Royce swung his arm down in a deadly arc, timing it perfectly when Gary cleared the archway. His aim was true, and the club smashed into Gary’s shoulder with a sickening crunch. The older man screamed and lost control of the firearm, but not before he pulled the trigger, blowing a hole through the back of the house. The blast in such a small space was deafening and disorienting. The only thing Sawyer could hear was the ringing in his ears.
“Swing away, Merrill.”
Sawyer swung his club with all his might, smacking it across Gary’s shoulders and upper back. The man immediately crumpled to his knees, and Royce tackled him the rest of the way to the ground. Royce’s lips moved, but Sawyer still couldn’t hear anything except the incessant ringing. But he knew exactly what his husband needed. Sawyer looked around for something to secure Gary, and his gaze landed on a phone charging cord. He sprinted across the kitchen, yanked it out of the wall, and dropped down next to Royce to secure Gary’s hands behind his back. Sawyer reached for his cell phone and dialed 911. He couldn’t hear when the operator answered or even what they said. He just kept repeating the street name and approximate address over and over, telling them to send help. He was relieved when Evan rushed in through the patio door. He gathered Chrissy into his arms and held her tight. The other two joined them in a group hug. Sawyer didn’t need to hear what they were saying to know they were grateful for another chance to get things right. It was a better opportunity than was afforded to most, and he hoped like hell they didn’t squander it.
Royce kept one foot on Gary’s lower back, holding him down, and pulled Sawyer into his arms for a hard kiss. It didn’t take long for Chesterfield and several other officers to arrive. Sawyer didn’t need his hearing to know Chesterfield was furious at them for not calling for backup. Sawyer recognized the furrowed brow and grim press of lips from the few times Mendoza had lit into him. By the time Chesterfield wound down, a fragment of Sawyer’s hearing had returned. He shouted his story as best he could and didn’t take offense when Chesterfield grimaced or fought back a smirk. By the time the chief cleared them to leave, most of Sawyer’s hearing had returned. He figured the ringing in his ears was there to stay for a while.
“Hey,” Evan called when they started across the yard. He extended his hand, and they each shook it. “I’m sorry for the way I behaved. I’m better than this, I swear it.”
“So prove it, kid,” Royce said. Well, Sawyer thought he was yelling too but couldn’t be sure. “You’ve got a golden opportunity to turn this shitshow around. Don’t let us down.”
“I won’t, sir,” Evan said. “Do you know when Frank is coming home? I really want to make peace with him.”
“Chief said Frank and the mayor were sleeping like babies,” Sawyer said. “So he’ll bring them home in the morning.”
Chrissy joined them and smiled. “Thank you again.”
“Hey, you’re the one who tipped us off. You’re one badass chick,” Royce told her.
“Was the bonfire invitation a ruse, or did you mean it?” Chrissy asked.
The guys exchanged a glance, then said, “We meant it.”
Royce traced the curve of Sawyer’s face with the back of his hand. They were naked together on the chaise lounge, covered by two blankets—the super soft throw from the back of the couch and a star-filled sky. Moonlight shimmered over the lake, and the glow from the dying flames leftover from their farewell bonfire kissed Sawyer’s golden skin.
What they’d initially planned as a small cookout had turned into a large gathering, combining old friends like Frank and Loretta with new friends like the hooligans across the street. The chief had forgiven them enough to attend the barbecue and bring the best potato salad Royce had ever put in his mouth.
“Does your forgiveness mean you didn’t tattle on us to Mendoza?” Royce had asked.
The chief’s responding chuckle had been a tad too sinister for comfort. “Guess you’ll find out when you get home.”
Mendoza hadn’t called to rip into them, so Royce had forced his thoughts to other things, such as the odd friendship blooming between Frank and his former nemesis, Evan. It also seemed that Chrissy and Evan were patching things up. The kid could be quite charming, but then again, so could serial killers and cult leaders.
Sawyer sighed contentedly, pulling Royce’s thoughts to the after-bonfire activities they’d shared on the lounge. “I can’t believe this is our last night here,” Sawyer said.