“Neither she or her dyke wife were home when I went there earlier.” He snorted and tilted his head toward Wendy and Marlise. “But these two morons were, and it was so easy to immobilize them and get them here.”
The gun was still pointed at her head, but Myles was busy nattering away. Like a true narcissist, he wanted to regale them with just how clever he was. How he’d managed to outwit them all. But this gave Krista time to think. She still had the spare holster on her ankle as Brock had suggested, so if by some chance she could reach down beneath her pants and bring out her gun, then she and Myles would be at a standoff, or he’d have her riddled with bullets before she even stood up. And her only allies were currently tied up and gagged. Myles’s unwilling ally would probably rather shoot her than take the high road and have his countless indiscretions as a staff sergeant brought to light.
She’d seen Myles at target practice. He was good.
She was better.
Could she knock his arm and disarm him without the possibility of the gun going off and hitting Wendy or Marlise?
Was the staff sergeant armed? Now that his secret was out—and it was a doozy—he’d probably feel as though hehadto silence them all.
Fuck.
They were stuck.
“Myles,” she whispered, “you don’t have to do this. We can all keep our mouths shut.”
He snorted and knocked the barrel harshly against her head until she saw stars. “Fuckin’ rookies. You all had to just go pokin’ your noses where they don’t belong. Couldn’t leave well enough alone. I had a good thing going, you know? And you,” he pushed her again with the gun, “fucking prude. Wouldn’t give it up. Had to make me work for it. Then I tried to just get rid of you altogether, but your stupid moron of a boyfriend had to be there to save the day.”
Oh God. Her brakes. Her tire.
Krista bit the inside of her cheek. She could not let him see how scared she was. Terrified for Wendy. For Marlise. For her baby.
“Please, Myles. Don’t do this. You’re a good cop. Don’t do this.” She glanced at the staff sergeant. “Sir, please.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Matthews,” Wicks said with reluctance in his voice.
Myles appeared almost bored. “All right, I’m gonna fuck you, and then I’ll get rid of you all.”
Krista’s hand fell to her abdomen, her eyes roaming Wendy and Marlise’s faces. Tears welled up in Wendy’s eyes, and Marlise shook with fear.
The staff sergeant nodded, his face betraying his disgust in Myles. “You want me to take care of these two, then?” He jerked his strong chin toward the other two women.
Myles frowned before bobbing his head. “May as well.”
“No!” Krista screamed, trying to wrench her arm free from Myles. “NO!” But he was stronger than her. She was no match. His fingers dug painful trenches into her arm as he lugged her farther down the hall toward her bedroom. “Please, Myles. Don’t do this. Don’t hurt Wendy and Marlise. You’re better than this. Please don’t hurt my baby.”
He tossed her onto the bed, and with the gun in one hand, he kneed her legs apart and climbed on top of her. His fingers wrapped around her throat. “I bet you like it rough, don’t you? Like that big Neanderthal boyfriend of yours fuckin’ you hard.” He slapped her hard across the face with the gun-heavy hand. Stars burst behind her eyes and her stomach lurched. He was straddling her belly, and the pain, the pressure was too much.
“Myles … please,” she cried.
“That’s right, bitch, beg for it.”
He smacked her hard again across the face before lurching off her and standing at the foot of the bed. Refusing to let go of the gun, his hands fumbled with the high Spandex panel of her maternity jeans.
Her mind, as throbbing and fuzzy as it was, immediately went to the gun on her ankle. He was going to find it.
She lifted her head and noticed her foot was right between his legs. He was struggling to get her pants down her thighs. She needed to act fast before she was immobilized.
His head was down, and he was deep in concentration, so she levered herself up and kicked him hard in the balls. Then, pushing herself up, she head-butted him, sending a cursing and groaning Myles back against the wall.
“You fucking bitch!” he wailed, his hand over his crotch. Blood gushed out of his nose. She’d gotten him good. Krista quickly took inventory of his hands and realized he was gun-free.
Where was the gun?
Ignoring the pounding in her skull, and with lightning reflexes, she reached for the gun on her ankle holster. She cocked the small snub-nose .38 just as Myles lifted his head.
“You’re under arrest,” she whispered.
