Aaron moved forward out of the shadows, listing like a drunk as his knee refused to take his weight on his prosthetic. He caught his balance again with difficulty, pain ripping through him. “Quinn? Quinn!”
He knew he’d hit him with that first shot. He just hoped it wasn’t fatal.
Quinn was rolling to his knees. “Get him,” he gasped. “The sheriff. Get him.”
Because of course Uncle Will was wearing a vest. Aaron’s shot had probably hurt like hell and punched all the air out of him, but he wasn’t down for the count yet.
Aaron grabbed Uncle Will, pulling him up and turning him around, and shoved him hard into the side of the cruiser. He held him there as Quinn joined him, and Quinn tugged the cuffs off Will’s belt and cuffed his hands. Then Quinn stooped to pick up Will’s dropped firearm.
“I’ll go left, you go right,” Quinn said, nodding at the cruiser.
Aaron shoved Uncle Will to his knees and nodded.
They rounded the cruiser, to find one of the Skulls slumped against it, dead. The other one had made it halfway to the open gates of the compound before Brody had put a bullet in his back.
“Holy fuck,” Quinn said. “Who’s your backup? Annie Oakley?”
“Uh, Brody.”
“Fuck.” Quinn let out a low whistle. “I guess all that getting high and playing CS really paid off, huh?”
“I can hear you, asshole,” Brody said, loping out of the darkness. “You guys good?”
Quinn inspected his arm. “Yeah. Aaron tagged me, but I’ll live. And speaking of getting tagged…” He rounded the cruiser again. “Jimmy? You gonna live?”
Jimmy was clutching his injured arm, blood pumping out between his fingers.
“You want me to call 911?” Brody asked. “Also, I really hope that badge you showed me was real, dude, because otherwise I got two dead guys to explain.”
“I really am,” Quinn said. “And no, I reckon I can patch Jimmy up well enough, don’t you, Jimmy?”
Jimmy stared at him, narrow-eyed.
“And while I do,” Quinn said, “we’re going to have a little talk.”
* * * *
Quinn and Brody dealt with Jimmy. Aaron leaned against the police cruiser and stared at Uncle Will. Uncle Will was sitting down now, his legs stretched out in front of him and his hands still cuffed behind his back. He looked like the man Aaron had known, and trusted, his whole life. Aaron stared at him, waiting for his familiar mask to fall away and reveal something else underneath, but it was just Uncle Will. The same Uncle Will as always, and wasn’t that the kicker? Aaron had loved this man, considered him family, and invited him into his house.
“Did you set my dad up?” he asked at last, his voice rasping.
“Aaron, kiddo, come on.”
“Did you set my dad up?” he asked again.
Uncle Will smiled slightly. “Son, things work in Spruce Creek for a reason. It’s how the game is played. It’s how it’salwaysbeen played. Your dad didn’t understand that at all.”
“So you told Robert MacGregor to kill him?”
“No,” Uncle Will said firmly. He held Aaron’s gaze in the gloom. “I just gave things a little push, so that the opportunity presented itself to Robert.”
Aaron didn’t even realize he had his Glock pointed at Will’s face until Quinn’s hand was on his shoulder.
“Aaron?”
Aaron drew a deep breath, feeling a cold, black rage settle deep in his gut.
“You really want to do this?” Quinn asked quietly.
