Suddenly a creak split the air. It sounded like someone had trod on a loose step.
The hair on the back of my neck rose.
Was Beau on his way up?
I stared out into the hallway, holding my breath.
Another creak. Closer this time. And then movement.
A spot of darkness, deeper than the rest, rising into view on the staircase like something out of a horror movie. Beau. And from the longer, thinner shadow extended out in front of him, he was carrying a shotgun.
My heart stuttered to a stop as he crept upward, pausing for seconds at a time, waiting, obviously listening for more sounds of us nearby. Adrenaline poured into my veins, causing my hands to tremble. This man had tried to kill his wife—multiple times, if Emma was right—and now here he was holding a fucking gun.
I had to protect her. Whatever the cost.
Chapter 8
Noah
Beau reached the top of the stairs, his outline an inky smear moving through the shadows. The office was dead ahead of him, and he crept closer, closer, pausing just outside like a snake getting ready to strike. There, he waited long enough for me to wonder what the hell he was doing.
My heart pounded. Fingers shook.
Without warning, Beau swung around, facing me, the gun aimed in my direction.
My body went rigid, muscles tensing with the need to run, to hide from sight, but I stayed where I was, telling myself there was no way he could see me. The door was barely cracked an inch, and it was even darker in here than out there. But it didn’t stop the panic from crawling up the back of my throat, the feeling of being trapped, cornered, with nowhere to go. Sweat poured down my temples. I stopped breathing, stopped even thinking, my brain fuzzing out as animal instinct took over, every muscle tense and ready to fight.
He could pull the trigger. He could shoot me right now.
Fuck.
After what felt like the longest minute of my life, Beau turned back around, creeping the final few inches to the office and pushing the door open with the gun muzzle. I released a shaky exhale as his shadowy form disappeared inside, a fine tremor running through my entire body. I wanted to grab Emma and run, but there was no way we’d get past him.
I knew what I had to do instead. I had to go out there and face him.
Now was the best chance I had at catching him off guard, so I cracked the door wide enough to slip out, sending a silent thank-you to the universe that it didn’t make a sound. As fast and quietly as I could, I stalked toward the office, snagging what looked like a paperweight off an end table in the hall. It was heavy in my hand, a little larger than a softball, but oblong, and dense enough to do some real damage if wielded with force. I’d have to be careful not to hit Beau too hard with it or I might actually kill him.
His office was small, and I didn’t think it would take him long to search it before he moved on to the rest of the rooms up here, so I plastered myself to the wall just outside and waited for him to reemerge. Time seemed to crawl by while I strained my ears for any sound of his approach. My eyes were fixed to where he would appear.
The door creaked.
I tensed, ready to lunge.
What little light there was glinted off the steel muzzle of the gun, appearing right beside me. I sprang forward, grabbing it and shoving it away as he fired, the flash quick as lightning, the sound loud enough to rattle the windows. For a split second, I caught sight of Beau’s illuminated face, frozen in shock. He was a handsome bastard, I had to give him that. Blue eyes, light-brown hair with a little curl to it. Straightnose, square jaw. You’d never know from looking at him what a monster he really was.
“You?” he said, right as we were plunged back into darkness.
Emma screamed my name from the other room.
I snapped my other hand forward, the one holding the paperweight, straight at the side of Beau’s head. He managed to duck away in time, and it glanced off his shoulder instead. The gun was nearly yanked out of my hand as he tried to pull it back around, firing again.
This time the pulse of light revealed his face, contorted into a rictus of rage. Emma screamed again, closer, and I twisted toward the sound, terrified she’d been hit. I saw nothing, the light having ruined my night vision.
“Are you okay?” I yelled.
“Yes! Are you?” she called back.
“Yes!”
