Fury and fear rose like bile to his throat.
“The conflict on your face is priceless, Chief Inspector. So, what’s it to be? A quick slice of your child’s throat and a bullet to your heart, or live with the knowledge that Bella is alive and well, safely in my care?” Child poked out his lower lip. “You can always marry again, you know.”
Sweat rained down his back. Bella didn’t cry anymore. Her whole head was red. Jackson’s hands balled into tight fists, his jaw clenched even tighter. He couldn’t bear the thought of Bella being raised by this demon, but what choice did he have? To say or do anything other would kill her on the spot.
A man roared from the dining room, followed by a bone-chilling scream.
Then silence.
Jackson’s bowels turned to water. Had he lost her? After all they’d been through? No! He wouldn’t—couldn’t—believe it. Not now. Not like this. He had to get to her. Had to see if she was bleeding out on the floor. Do something to save her!
But Bella…
Oh, God, what a choice!
Though it killed him in a thousand different ways, he looked Child square in the eyes. “Take the girl and go,” he growled, voice so thick with emotion it was more of a rasp. “Just promise me she’ll be safe.”
Child’s smirk widened, a sickening glint flashing in his dark eyes. “Oh, she’ll be safe, Chief…as safe as I want her to be.”
As Child signaled for the man to haul Bella away, Jackson stood ramrod straight. Timing was everything, and at the right time, for Kit and Bella’s sake, he would become a monster himself.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Too fast! Her heartbeats. Her breath. The all-too-short time she’d been Bella’s mother and Jackson’s wife. She couldn’t die. Not yet. Hot blood glued Kit’s blouse to her waist. A flesh wound, she suspected, but once the brute dragged her into the dining room, he’d give her more than that.
Unless she gave it to him first.
She writhed. Wiggled. Wrenched. The knife blade scraped the skin along her ribs. The brute spat vile curses. Off balance, they stumbled into the dining room, the man’s hip hitting a chair and tipping it over with a jarring crash.
Instead of pulling away, she leaned against him. Hard. He teetered, and the instant he did so, she jerked free. Backing away, she crouched to fight.
“Now ye’ve gone and done it.” A cold smile broke on his face, lamplight from the dining room spilling in to glint off his upraised knife blade. “This’ll be a pleasure.”
Kit swallowed the fear clogging her throat. What she wouldn’t give for the feel of a carved bone hilt clutched in her hand right about now.
Trying to ignore the pain in her side, she glanced wildly about for a weapon—anyweapon. A chair? Possibly. Though by the time she grabbed the nearest she’d likely already have a blade planted in her back. Across the other side of the room the silver teapot on the sideboard tempted her. She could whale that against the man’s skull if she could get to it.
But already he advanced.
Think. Think!
Angry voices boomed in from the sitting room. How much longer would Jackson and Bella have? She had to get to them. Had to do something!
Claws scratched along the baseboard to her right. Of all the times for Brooks to search for food, he had to pick now? Here?
She gasped.
Of course!
She lunged for the animal and flung it at her attacker with all her might.
The armadillo hit with athwackagainst the man’s face—and held, Brooks’ claws making purchase. The man screamed. The knife fell.
Kit scrambled for it, barely snatching it up as Brooks once again flew through the air. Clutching the handle, she put all her weight into swinging her arm wide, praying for success.
If she failed now, she’d have only succeeded at enflaming the thug even more.
God, please.
