39
Donatella
Since she wasn’t stupid enough to burst in through the front gates, Donna walked through the trees until she could see the pond. That was where she would enter without being seen. She was locked and loaded, dressed in black, ready to exact revenge. Robert Lee Khal and the rest of the Kool-Aid drinkers were out of their fucking minds if they thought they could attack her family and get away with it.
Donna played dumb with the police on the scene and the ones that showed up at the hospital, and she knew that Bella would do the same. And, she’d make sure that their parents kept quiet as well.
She leaned against the tree. After racking the slide of her Smith & Wesson 9-millimeter, she patted her hip, unnecessarily checking the clip holder for the tenth time, to ensure that she had extra mags. She inhaled, then exhaled a deep cleansing breath. She pushed off the tree, ready to wreak havoc. If she had to, she was going to kill every last bible beater on the property to get to her enemies.
The snap of a twig kept her still. She listened, hoping it was an animal. But if it wasn’t…if it was an obstacle in the way of retribution, it was dead.
“Don’t shoot.” The sound of the familiar masculine baritone had her lowering her weapon. She looked around but didn’t see him.
“Lincoln!” she called in a too loud whisper.
“I’m here.” Her ears told her that he was directly in front of her. She squinted, trying to find him. It wasn’t until he moved closer that she realized that he was standing right in front of her. He too was dressed in all black, and his white skin was covered in what looked like mud.
“Lincoln, what the hell are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“Oh,” he chuckled. “You thought it would take a genius to know where you’d be?”
“You gotta get outta here!” Donna pushed him in the chest, but he didn’t even rock backward.
“Donatella, what are you here to do?”
Not having time to answer stupid questions, she glared at him with narrowed eyes. “You know what the fuck I’m here to do,” she sneered.
She turned to continue along her path, but Lincoln grabbed her elbow and whipped her around to face him.
“No, baby. I don’t think you understand. I’m asking you for the plan. I’m here to help.”
Donna looked him in the eye, studying him with a furrowed brow to gauge his seriousness. He released her elbow.
“Gimme your weapon.”
“What?”
“Your weapon. Give it to me.”
With great hesitation, she handed her 9mm to Lincoln. She prayed that he wasn’t trying to stop her from doing what she had gone there to do. If that was his plan, she’d have to rely on the backup piece she had in a secure ankle holster.
“Just like I thought,” he said with a grimace. “You gonna kill people with your duty weapon? Did you at all plan on getting away with this?”
“I don’t care, Lincoln! They shot my fucking father!”
He shook his head as if disappointed. “So, your dad comes home from the hospital just to discover that his baby girl is in prison for being stupid? That’s your plan?”
“Lincoln—”
“No,” he interrupted. “Just listen.”
He took off the backpack he was carrying and dropped to one knee. He opened the bag, put her gun inside, and pulled out a different one. He handed it to her and said, “Use this one.”
Donna accepted the weapon and studied it. She held it in her open hand to test the weight and pointed it to check the sights.
“A Desert Eagle,” she whispered, more to herself than him. Lincoln might as well had just handed her Tiger Wood’s driving iron. It was a beautiful weapon, but was he trying to trade places by going to prison instead of her?
“But, you—”
