Tom glanced at Amelia, who looked as terrified as you’d expect of someone in her situation. And then at Connor. His eyes were red, his jaw tight. Tom had seen Connor like that once before, on the day of the crash. Desperate, prepared to do anything to make it all go away. Tom lowered the rifle, though not all the way. He didn’t rate his chances of talking Duncan around—but maybe Connor, if he handled this with care…
“You can’t live with this, Connor,” he said. “You can’t live with the guilt of killing someone. Killing me, killing a completely innocent woman. You will relive the moment every hour of every day of your life. You will see it, in your head, over and over.”
“I already live with the guilt of ending someone’s life, except he was my best mate. I might not have killed Eddie, but it would’ve been better if I had.”
“That was an accident. This is something else. You’ll never get away with it.”
“Sure we will,” Duncan said. “You already set it up for us, just like last time. I’ll tell the sergeant you got into that brandy again, shot up the place, crashed the car, and then wandered off, not in your right minds. The moor swallows people whole. Everyone knows that. Folks around here already say your family is cursed. Back then, I thought I was stuffed. There were so many people here that night—I was sure somebody would figure it out. But I got a second chance. And now? Who’s to know? In a lot of ways, it’ll be easier this time. No one else around.”
“I’m sorry, Tom,” Connor said. “You should never have seen us. She should never have been here.” He nudged Amelia, whose eyes widened. “This is not about me, or even Dad. It’s about Xanthe and the baby. For the first time in my life, I can see a future. Something to live for.”
“What kind of a future would it be? You’d be haunted.”
“I already am, Tom. This is already a big mess.”
“It’s nothing compared with what it’ll be if you don’t back away now. Let Amelia go—let her walk out that door—and I’ll put the rifle down. Do whatever you want to me but let her go.”
“No!” Duncan roared. “No way would she keep her mouth shut.”
“Connor, you’re like a brother to me.”
“He was never your brother,” Duncan spat. “He was the son of a servant, and your grandfather never let him forget it.”
“I don’t want to do this, Tom,” Connor said, positioning himself directly behind Amelia, so Tom couldn’t shoot him even if he wanted to. “But if I don’t, I lose everything.Xantheloses everything. The baby loses everything, before he’s even born.”
“You use that knife on her and I will shoot both of you,” Tom said.
“No, you won’t,” Duncan said.
“I swear, Duncan?—”
“You only have one round left.”
Tom shook his head.
“You don’t believe me? Take a look?”
Tom checked the rifle. Duncan was right. Damn.
Duncan pointed at the barrel. “You pull that trigger on me, and Connor uses the knife on Amelia, and then it’s just you and Connor. And Connor will win because he has something to fight for. You’ve already given up. You already have nothing left.”
Connor tightened his grip on Amelia, and she squeaked. Tom felt like he didn’t know either of these men, and he’d known them his entire life. Until this morning, he’d have sworn neither could be involved in any of this. They were family. Now, he wasn’t sure of anything. But if he put down the rifle, it should at least buy him and Amelia time. Duncan wouldn’t kill them here if he wasn’t pushed into it. It’d leave too much evidence, right where someone was likely to start looking. And the worst thing Tom could do was back Connor into a corner. If Connor had a better option, time to think, there was a chance he’d take it.
Tom unclipped the magazine and ejected the round in the chamber, tossing both up onto the landing. He dropped the weapon to the floor. Lightning fast, Duncan got up, yanked Tom’s hands behind his back and tied them with the curtain cord. There was no getting out of a knot Duncan had tied. He kicked Tom’s injured ankle, shooting pain up his leg, and aimed a swift boot behind his other knee. Tom’s legs buckled and he fell to the floor.
“Let her go,” Tom said to Connor.
Connor hesitated, but at a sharp nod from Duncan, he lifted the knife and shoved Amelia towards Tom. She careened to the floor beside him.
“I’m sorry, Amelia,” Tom said.
“It’s not your fault,” she said, pushing herself up. “You know that. Besides, if I hadn’t got caught…” She gave him a once-over glance. “The pool of blood in the kitchen…?”
“The Château Delphine.” He shrugged. “It almost worked.”
She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and stared at him like she was trying to memorize his face. Her brow furrowed as a rumble came from the driveway. “Is that…?”
Connor looked at Duncan, fearfully. “A car.”
