He didn’t answer her. If sacrificing himself to the Michelsons’ need for vengeance would keep her and the others safe, he’d gladly do it. “The others…” He lifted a hand, indicating the two men to his left, the woman—hiswoman—in front of him. “Your quarrel isn’t with them; it’s with me.They’re innocent in all this.”
“Innocent?” Lawrence laughed, and the sound exploded over the lawn like a cannon blast. “Bollocks they are. Innocent people don’t create a firebomb in a small village to escape the press. Innocent people don’t take the back roads to the airport when the motorway woulda been twice as fast. Innocent people don’t break into an old manor house to hide for the night.”
His argument was so smooth it sounded rehearsed. Is that how Lawrence was rationalizing his plan? Had he convinced himself that Emily, Ace, Rusty, and Angel were all as culpable as Christian? A cold fingernail of dread—and inevitability—scraped up Christian’s spine.
“None of you are innocent,” Lawrence spat. “None of you deserve—”
He was cut off by the sound of his brother poking hishead into the front door and yelling, “Hey, you! Wake up and get your stupid ass out onto the front lawn, or all your mates are gonna get it!”
Silence followed that pronouncement, and still Angel was MIA. Christian was about to try to explain away his absence when Lawrence yelled to Ben, “Never mind! Let’s finish this lot, and then we’ll find the last one!”
And there it was, laid out inwords as plain as day.Finish this lot.
Panic and remorse and the need to try one last time to change the outcome this night was barreling toward at breakneck speed had Christian opening his mouth to plead with the older Michelson. But before he could say anything, Ben palmed his Glock and turned around, nodding at his older brother. And in that split second, Christian saw the angel of deathappear in the dark shadows behind Ben.
No, not the angel of death. Just Angel.
“Angel,no!” he shouted when Angel raised his hands. Christian needed a few more minutes to try to convince Lawrence—
But it was too late. Angel grabbed Ben’s jaw and gave it a hard, backward yank.The movies got loads of things wrong, but the noise a person’s neck makes as it breaks wasn’t one of them.The sound of Ben’s vertebra snapping was as sickening as it was final. Ben Michelson was dead before his body hit the ground.
“Noooo!” Lawrence roared, flinging Emily away from him and swinging his weapon toward Angel, a murderous gleam shining in his eyes.
It was done. There would be no quarter given to the Michelsons this night.
Christian had enough time to see that Emily was okay—she’dstumbled but had managed to stay on her feet—before he lunged. He made it a step before Lawrence’s pistol barked, the sound oddly amplified by the cold stillness of the night.
Pain burned through his arm, but he ignored the sizzle, still barreling toward Lawrence, sensing Ace and Rusty hot on his heels. He took an additional three steps before jumping and tackling Lawrence to the ground.
Lawrence roared his fury when Christian landed on him and was quick to get one hand on Lawrence’s wrist, the one holding the gun. Christian curled his other hand into a fist that he used to smash Lawrence’s nose.Bam! Crunch!Blood gushed over Lawrence’s face.
Christian knew his knuckles would hurt later—bone meeting bone was never fun—but right then he felt nothing but determination. Hehad to disarm Lawrence. And fast. With his brother dead, Lawrence was beyond reason.
Christian’s punch would have knocked out most men and dazed many others. But Lawrence was built like a rhino, and mindless with rage to boot. He seemed to shake off the blow as if it was nothing, and before Christian knew it, a hard punch landed against his ribs. Lawrence’s meaty fist felt like a pile driver.Christian’s rib cagecreakedin warning. Another one of those punches, and he’d be in a world of pain.
They rolled and spat and kicked and snarled, fighting for control of the weapon. The smell of Lawrence, body odor thinly disguised by harsh-smelling cologne, surrounded Christian in a toxic cloud until finally, he was able to bring down his elbow on the crook of Lawrence’s arm. As he’d hoped,the move momentarily paralyzed a nerve, causing the Glock 17 to slip from Lawrence’s grip.
Christian palmed the weapon, rolled off Lawrence, and stood. His chest worked like a bellows from the effort. Adrenaline left a sharp, tangy taste on his tongue.
Aiming down at Lawrence, he curled his finger around a trigger that was warm and worn smooth. “Don’t move!” he commanded when Lawrencepushed to his feet.
Either Lawrence didn’t hear him or else didn’t care. The brute wiped a hand beneath his nose, smearing blood across his cheek, and then turned on his heel.
For a second, Christian thought Lawrence was going to flee the scene—and even though it would be hell on all their covers, he would have let him go. Then Christian realized Lawrence had no thought of leaving, becausehe reached for a sheath on his waistband and came away with a tactical fighting knife that sported a matte-black blade. The fool was determined to fight to the death, taking as many of them with him as he could.
“Stop!” Christian bellowed, giving Lawrence one last chance. Hoping beyond hope the man would realize he was outgunned and outnumbered.
No such luck. Lawrence roared his mindlessoutrage and sprinted toward Emily.
That’s all it took. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing as Christian aimed and fired. Theboomof the Glock as it belched up a round sounded profane. The round entered the back of Lawrence’s skull, and a plume of pink and red mist exploded from the front of his head.
Christian could tell by Emily’s expression of shock and horror that Lawrence’sface was gone. She took a step back, a hand going over her mouth.
Lawrence’s body wobbled once. Twice. Then crumpled to the ground.
Shit.Shit!If only Lawrence had listened to reason.
“Are you okay?” Christian demanded of Emily, still blowing hard and trying like hell not to stare at the man he’d just sent to meet his Maker.
