Grace screamed, her worried stare clinging to her new husband as she jumped from the sofa and raced toward him.
“Sit down, Grace!” Gene snarled. “You can’t help him now. None of you can.”
Then, without warning, he swung the gun straight toward Beck. Heavenly watched as if in slow motion. Her eyes widened. A warning buzzed through her head.
Before she could spit out the words, Gene fired.
The deafening sound shattered the once cozy home.
Heavenly flinched, her whole body jerking. Her phone fell from her numb fingers, clattering to the floor. Her ears rang. And her world tilted as Beck cried out and stumbled back, gripping a gaping wound at his shoulder.
As the football game droned on in horrific normalcy, blood oozed from between his fingers and bloomed across his shirt—dark, wet, unmistakable.
“Beck!” Heavenly screamed, instinctively lurching forward.
“No!” Hudson roared at the same time, his voice cracking with horror.
“Don’t move,” Gene snapped as he pointed the weapon directly at them.
She froze. Beside her, Hudson did the same.
Heavenly gaped, barely comprehending. Gene—Gene—had a gun. He’d just knocked Carl unconscious. He’d shot Beck. He was pointing the weapon at her now, at Grace, at Hudson.
This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.
But the blood was real. The sound still ringing in her ears was real.
She blinked at Beck, trying to fight off her shock. His face twisted with both rage and pain, but he shook his head at her. Don’t help him. Don’t be foolishly brave.
What did he expect her to do? She couldn’t stand here and just watch him bleed.
Beside her, Hudson grabbed her elbow. For support? The kid must be terrified.
Then she realized he was holding her back.
Gene raised a brow at Beck, the gun steady in his practiced hand. “If you try anything, I’ll blow your bitch’s fucking head off. And we both know how much you’d hate that.”
Beck’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound.
Beside Hudson, Grace started hyperventilating, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
Hudson took her hand. “Grandma. Grandma, shh. Squeeze my hand. Just like that…”
“Now that I have your attention…” Gene’s hard voice boomed through the living room. “I suggest you keep your fucking mouths shut and follow my instructions very carefully if you want to live. Saint Seth is going to try to save you soon. When he does, I’ll be ready.”
Heavenly’s chest buckled. Her stomach flipped. Seth! He’d gone on an errand—and if she couldn’t warn him, he’d walk right into an ambush.
Thoughts racing, she scanned the room for her phone, but when she’d dropped it, the device had skittered out of reach. She had no idea how to warn him, but she had to come up with something—or they’d all be dead.
Heart thundering in his chest, Seth risked another glance over his shoulder—and finally saw his attacker.
Recognition hit him like a fist to the gut.
Another cop from the precinct.
Bob Ellis.
Seth had known the old-timer most of his life. He’d attended Michael Cooper’s funeral, sitting red-eyed with the rest of the guys. He’d been one of Gene’s fishing buddies for decades.
