Everett was leading the way, sweeping the LED flashlight from right to left as they moved into the kitchen.
“Everett, I can’t see,” Freddie said.
At that moment, Dylan flipped on the lights behind them, illuminating the utility room and the kitchen.
Everett gasped and spun around, saw the big man standing between them and the exit, and shouted. “Son of a bitch! Get him, Freddie!”
Dylan was braced for impact when Asher and Gunner bolted, hitting them with the full weight of their bodies, and taking them down from behind.
The Brandt brothers hit the floor belly first, knocking the breath out of their lungs. As they were struggling to catch their breath, Asher and Gunner handcuffed them and rolled them over on their backs.
The first word out of Everett’s mouth was a curse until he saw the guns aimed at them, and he shut his trap.
Freddie saw the guns and started crying. “Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot. I don’t wanna die.”
“Neither did our father, but you tried to kill him anyway,” Asher said.
Everett’s shock was visible. “Father? Kingston is your old man?”
“All of us are his sons. You picked the wrong man to mess with,” Gunner said.
“We came for what was ours by right,” Everett said.
“You mean the money your dad stole, and our mother buried?” Asher said, and then grinned at the stunned look on their faces as he and Gunner flashed their badges. “Once Dad identified you two as the men wanting to buy the bar, we ran background checks on all of you. It was just a matter of working backward. After we figured out what you were after, we did a little digging of our own. We found the strongbox buried in the basement and turned it over to the FBI two days ago. You’re going back to prison for attempted murder, and the money is back where it belongs.”
Then he handed his gun to Dylan. “You and Gunner just shoot them if they move. I’m going to call the sheriff.”
Gunner kicked the toe of Everett’s boots. “I’m gonna shoot you if you even open your mouth.”
“I’d just as soon shoot them anyway. I’m a general contractor. I can bury them in so much cement on a job site that their bodies will never be found,” Dylan said.
Freddie peed his pants, and Everett actually shuddered. Prison was looking better by the minute.
Asher was leaning against the wall as he made the call, and was waiting for the answer.
“Briscoe County Sheriff’s office. What is your emergency?”
“This is Asher Kingston. We’re at the Tumbleweed Bar in Crossroads. My brothers and I have the two men who tried to kill Jacob Kingston in cuffs. We need officers and transport assistance, ASAP.”
“Do you need an ambulance?” the dispatcher asked.
“Not yet,” Asher said, and disconnected. Then he took the gun back from Dylan. “Brother, if you don’t mind, would you please turn on all the lights in the bar, and watch for the sheriff?”
“With pleasure,” Dylan said, and began turning on lights all through the house as he went.
* * *
As usual, Pearl was sleeping with her window open and was one of the first to hear the sirens. She got up and ran to the window, and when she saw lights flashing, and all of the vehicles pulling in at the Tumbleweed Bar, but with no ambulances following, she guessed the Kingston brothers had called the police for a reason.
The night air was cold, but she kept watching until she saw the officers bringing two men out in handcuffs, and the Kingston brothers walking out into the parking lot behind them, and guessed it had something to do with Jacob being shot. Whatever it was, they clearly had everything under control.
“Lord, those boys are something,” she said, and took herself back to bed, snuggling deep beneath the covers.
* * *
Four blocks south, Nora was awakened by the strident sounds of sirens.
“Oh my God, it happened!” she said, and flew out of bed.
