Page 50 of Shadowed Witness (The Secrets of Kincaid #2)

Banging on the door pulled Allye from her shock.

Thomas spun away from her and sidled up next to the window. He lifted an edge of the heavy plaid curtain, then yanked it back and cursed. He strode to the door and flung it open.

“What’s he doing here?”

“Caught him poking around outside.”

He cursed again. “Get him in here.”

Allye half rose as Eric stepped inside, hands raised. The man who’d blocked her car in earlier was close behind him and held a gun to his back. No. Eric’s eyes met hers, and she saw relief mixed with concern there.

Thomas pulled his own gun, which appeared to be equipped with a suppressor, and pointed it at Allye. “You, sit.” She sank back into the leather wingback. He glared at the newcomers. “Was he alone?”

“Yes.” The man’s low voice was slightly familiar, but Allye couldn’t place it.

Thomas’s face smoothed somewhat, but he still looked massively irritated. He trained his gun on Eric. “Tie him up, Lenny.”

The man produced zip ties from his pocket and quickly secured Eric’s wrists behind his back, then shoved him to the floor.

Thomas lowered the gun and took a sip of the bourbon he still held. “Well, Allye. Looks like you don’t have to die alone.”

Bernie came up beside his brother. He cracked his knuckles. “I’m ready. Which one you want me to take first?”

“Take me,” Eric said, struggling to his feet. His hands were still bound behind his back, but he squared his shoulders. “Or are you chicken?”

Eric, no! But she couldn’t get the words past her throat. She watched in horror as Bernie’s eyes darkened and he started toward him.

“No.” Wesley’s determined tone drew all eyes to him. He’d backed into the kitchenette and drawn his gun, which was now pointed at the ringleader. “This has gone far enough. Drop your gun, Thomas. Rest of you keep your hands where I can see them.”

“Your family is dead,” Bernie hissed. He took a step in Wesley’s direction, which also brought him closer to Allye.

“Stop right there. I’m not afraid to pull the trigger.” But the weapon trembled in Wesley’s hands. Even from halfway across the room, Allye could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Thomas said, his voice level. “We don’t want your family dead, but you know as well as I do that these two have to go. They don’t die, we’re all going down—you included.”

“Then I’m going down. I should have taken responsibility for my wrongs a long time ago. Now drop your gun. Now!”

“If you’re sure that’s what you want.” Thomas started to lower his weapon. Then everything happened at once.

Bernie’s hand shot out. Before Allye could move or even blink, he’d yanked her up in front of him and snaked his arm around her neck in one fluid motion.

She caught her breath as the barrel of Wesley’s gun swung their direction.

A shot rang out.

Wesley went to his knees. Allye couldn’t hold back her scream. Black specks intruded on her vision as dizziness kicked in, but not before she saw the blood beginning to spread across his shirt. Another shot, and Wesley crumpled.

A scuffle sounded behind her, and Bernie whipped them both around. Nausea joined the dizziness. Her vision darkened. No! She had to stay conscious and alert. She gripped the arm around her neck and blinked hard, fighting the urge to vomit.

Eric was on top of Lenny. He must have charged when the gunshots went off. But with his hands still bound behind him, he was no match for the other man.

Lenny slammed a fist against the side of Eric’s head and shimmied out from under him. He stood, whipping out his gun. “Try that again, and I’ll—”

The window near the door shattered. Bernie released Allye and shoved her away from him. She landed half on top of Eric.

“Watch them.” Bernie raced to the window.

She shifted so she was beside Eric instead of practically in his lap. “What was that?” she whispered.

“Rock.” He inclined his head toward a fist-size stone lying among the glass shards.

Thomas edged along the wall until he was standing next to his brother. “Who’s out there?” he demanded.

“I don’t see anyone,” Bernie said.

The reporter cursed. “Well, get out there and look. That rock didn’t throw itself. Lenny, you too. I’ll watch them.” He leveled his gun at Allye and Eric.

Bernie scowled but headed for the door, Lenny at his heels.

As the two men exited, Thomas moved closer to the window, angling his body to allow him to monitor the situation outside while keeping an eye on his hostages.

Allye exchanged a look with Eric. She was painfully aware that any attempt to escape could turn out very badly. The reporter had proven he had no issue with pulling the trigger. But this might be their last opportunity. She saw her own thoughts reflected in Eric’s gaze.

He mouthed something. She couldn’t make it out, but he glanced toward his side and mouthed the last word again. Pocket.

A quick glance confirmed Thomas was paying more attention to whatever was going on outside than to them.

Feeling like every cell in her body was vibrating, she slipped her hand into the pocket Eric had indicated.

Her fingers brushed a pocketknife. Quickly, she drew it out and hid it under a fold of her skirt.

She thumbed it open. The blade locked into place with a soft click.

Her gaze shot to Thomas, but the man didn’t seem to have heard.

It’s okay. Deep breath. Repeating the words silently to herself, she began inching backward until she could reach Eric’s bound hands.

He leaned forward slightly, and she tried to insert the tip of the blade between his wrists and the zip tie.

“Over there—he’s behind the shed!”

Allye startled at Thomas’s shout. Eric winced. She’d nicked him. Though he couldn’t see her face, she still mouthed, Sorry . Willing her hands to stop trembling, she tried again.

The tie snapped just as a gunshot sounded. She almost dropped the knife but somehow managed to keep hold of it. Eric flexed his hands, then took it from her.

“You get him?” the reporter called to the men outside.

Bernie’s curse floated through the broken window. “Yeah. It was that stupid kid.”

“Dion,” Eric breathed.

A sob rose in her throat. What was he even doing here?

“Make sure he’s dead and get back in—” Sirens cut off Thomas’s words. Gravel crunched as vehicles hit the driveway.

Gunfire erupted outside. Thomas took aim out the window.

“Take cover,” Eric whispered. The next instant, he launched forward and tackled the reporter. They rolled, fighting for possession of the gun.

Allye scrambled to her feet and grabbed onto the back of the chair to steady herself. She had to help somehow. The gun went off, and she screamed. But the shot had gone wild.

More shots sounded from outside. Then everything went quiet—everything except Eric’s grunting and Thomas’s curses as they continued to wrestle for the gun.

The door burst open, and two county deputies rushed inside. They aimed their weapons at the men on the floor. “Stop! Police!”

Thomas let out a feral scream and threw Eric off. He swung the gun toward the deputies as Eric rolled out of the way.

Allye dropped behind the chair and slapped her hands over her ears as several more shots filled the air. Deathly silence followed. When she dared to peek around the edge of the makeshift barrier, Thomas lay unmoving on the ground. Eric knelt beside him, checking for a pulse. He shook his head.

“This one’s still alive!” The shout came from the other side of the room. “Get a stretcher in here!”

Not trusting her legs to hold her, Allye crawled around the chair and looked for the owner of the voice. One of the deputies was bent over Wesley, applying pressure to his chest. How was he still alive?

Eric rose, wiping blood from his busted lip. His gaze found her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, unable to speak.

“I have to check on Dion.”

“Go,” she whispered to his retreating back. Her gaze fell on Wesley again. Lord, please let them both be okay.