“Which will make it easy for the police to take me when they get here,” Anton said in a chillingly smooth, controlled voice. “I’m guessing you’ve already called them?”
“What’s going on?” Remy asked Jeremiah.
“They’ve learned something about me,” Anton answered.
Remy tried to jerk her arm free. “Let me go.”
“I can’t.” Anton hauled Remy in front of him, twisted her arm up against the center of her shoulder blades, and locked his other arm around her neck.
She struggled. “What? Let go!”
Glancing to the side, Jeremiah saw that Jude had drawn his weapon and was aiming.
“Easy,” Anton said. “You don't want to hurt her, do you?”
“How dare you.” Remy's tone was thin with pain, but also tough with anger. “Let go of me.”
“I can’t let you go just yet,” Anton said to her. “You’re my only bargaining chip.” Looking at the brothers, Anton motioned with his head. “Jude, place the gun there.” He indicated a side table. “Then back up so I can take it. Once I have it, Remy and I will leave.”
“No,” Jeremiah gritted out.
“You have my word that I won’t harm her,” Anton said. “Once I’ve put enough distance between myself and this place, I’ll let her go.”
“Let her go now,” Jeremiah demanded.
“My only hope of getting away clean is in taking her with me.” Anton twisted Remy’s arm higher. She cried out.
Jeremiah died inside. His heart was rushing. His soul was screaming.
“Set your gun on the table,” Anton said to Jude, louder. “Move slowly and keep both hands where I can see them.”
“Fine,” Jude said even though he must know they couldn’t let Anton leave with Remy. “Keep calm. We’ll do as you ask.” Jude eased toward the side table.
“I won’t let him take me,” Remy told Jeremiah. “I can’t let another man attack me.”
“I won’t hurt you,” Anton said.
“You're hurting me right now.”
“I have no quarrel with you.”
Remy turned her distress on Jude. “I’d rather you take your chances and try to shoot him.”
“We can’t risk that,” Jude said. “Go with him and do as he says and everything will be fine. Call Jeremiah as soon as you can, and we’ll come and get you.”
“No,” Remy whispered, and the sound was like nails through Jeremiah’s skin.
Jude set his gun on the table and moved away from it.
Tears tracked down Remy’s cheeks.
“Back up, toward the front of the house,” Anton said. “Both of you.” Once they’d done so, he added, “Kneel with your hands up.”
Jeremiah knelt next to Jude. Terrified. Hating himself. Furious.
Remy looked stricken—white-faced and wild-eyed.
Anton wrestled her toward the side table so that he could retrieve the gun.
