“Agreed. But I can’t leave him any of those options.”
“You cannot.” A pause. “So you wish to end him and this enterprise. Permanently.”
“Exactly. You’re in?”
“Of course. And I bring muscle.”
“I’m three minutes out from my mom’s house. The address is?—”
“Do not be naïve, Seth Cooper. I know where she lives.”
That took Seth aback…and it probably shouldn’t have. “How?”
“It is business to know where important people live. In case they need help.” Nikolai’s voice was almost gentle. “Like you. So I come. Fifteen minutes. But you wait. You cannot have all fun without me.”
“Hurry. My brother Matt is meeting me there. We’ll assess the situation and have a plan in place when you arrive.”
“Wait for reinforcements. Playing cowboy is bad for health.”
It wasn’t an order, but advice from someone who knew what cornered criminals did when they panicked.
Seth’s jaw worked. “If he starts killing people?—”
“Then, yes. Act. But if house is quiet, be smart.”
“Hurry the fuck up.” Seth exhaled hard. “And Nik? Thanks.”
“Save thanks for after killing. We have much to do.” Another dark chuckle. “Then? You owe me very expensive vodka.”
“Done.”
“Good. See you soon, friend. Try not to die before I arrive. Would be very inconvenient.”
The line went dead.
His finger hovered over Tony Marconi’s contact…and hesitated. He was ninety-nine percent sure his former partner was clean. But his dad had clearly thought the same thing—and look where that faith had gotten him. On the off-chance Tony was dirty, the last thing Seth wanted to do was tip him off. And if his pal was innocent…best not to put him in danger.
With a curse, Seth tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and made the final turn into his mom’s neighborhood, hoping like hell he could keep everyone alive long enough to neutralize Gene.
The football game droned through Grace’s family room like it was any other Sunday. The announcers shouted about a fumble recovery as the crowd roared. The jarring normalcy grated on Heavenly’s increasingly raw nerves.
Gene hadn’t lowered the gun for an instant since he’d shot Beck. He’d simply trained it on her, Grace, and Hudson—steady, unwavering.
A constant, throat-clogging threat.
Across the room, Beck looked alarmingly pale as he slumped against the wall, still pressing a hand against his wounded shoulder. Heavenly watched helplessly as blood seeped between his fingers, trickled down his shirt, and dripped to his lap. With every passing minute, his breaths turned rougher yet shallower.
He was losing too much blood. What if he passed out? What if he bled out and?—
She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to finish that thought.
Everything inside her screamed to go to him, to help him. But if she took even one step in Beck’s direction, Gene would shoot. And once he started, would he just kill everyone?
Everything seemed so surreal. An hour ago, guests had been here, celebrating Carl and Grace’s marriage. There had been laughter, congratulations. Joy and love. Heavenly’s biggest problem had been wondering what troubled Seth and whether Grace would accept the fact that he was in a committed threesome.
Now Heavenly feared they might not leave this house alive. Each horrifying moment felt like a twisted nightmare. But it was every bit as real as the gun Gene had no qualms using.
Grace sat rigidly on the far side of the couch, hands trembling in her lap, lips moving silently. Praying. Her face was pasty white, eyes wide and glassy with shock. Heavenly reached over and gave the woman’s shoulder a squeeze. Seth’s mother must not only be terrified, but grief-stricken. She’d lost one husband to violence years ago. Would she lose the other to the same fate?
