A sickening crack echoed through the room. He went limp.
Lilia panted, and the chair clattered from her hands. She looked ready to topple over. “Is he…”
“I don’t know.” Peyton wouldn’t waste time trying to figure it out. Her duty was to save Lilia and Grace, and there were more criminals coming. “We need to get out of here. The keys to the cuffs. And the car. They’re in his pocket.”
Lilia dropped to her knees and rifled through Ricky’s pockets, finding both sets. She stumbled as she struggled to her feet and nearly dropped the handcuff keys twice before she got one of the cuffs undone.
“Leave it.” Peyton snatched the car keys from Lilia's other hand, the loose cuff swinging from her wrist. There was no time. “Grab the laptop. Don't leave it behind.”
Lilia slammed the laptop shut, tucking it under her arm. Peyton scooped Ricky's gun from the floor, and they ran.
The front door banged open against the wall as they burst onto the sagging porch. Rain hit Peyton's face. Grace jolted awake and started wailing. The sedan sat where Ricky had parked it, ten feet away. Peyton hit the unlock button on the key fob, and the taillights flashed.
“Get in!” She yanked open the driver's door as Lilia threw herself into the passenger seat, the laptop clutched against herchest. Peyton slid behind the wheel, one hand shielding Grace in the sling, the dangling handcuff clanking against the steering column. She jammed the key into the ignition.
Headlights swept across the farmhouse as a van turned onto the rutted drive, blocking their only means of escape.
It was too late.
Peyton acted without thinking. She pulled a whimpering Grace from the sling and passed her to Lilia, saying, “Get down and stay down,” pushing them both toward the wheel well. Thunder rolled, vibrating through Peyton, and she prayed the sound of the storm would muffle the baby’s cries.
She eased open the driver’s side door as the van rocked to a stop. Peyton immediately recognized it as the vehicle used in the attack against her and Dawson.
A man exited the driver’s seat.
Marvis. Even through the rain, she recognized the lanky frame, and the unevenly cut hair plastered to his skull. He looked wilder than his mugshot — unshaven, strung out, his eyes darting between the sedan and the farmhouse. A pistol hung at his side.
All Peyton had was the element of surprise. He expected them to be in the house with Ricky.
She lowered herself behind the driver’s side door, using it as cover. Rain pelted her head and shoulders as she pointed the gun at Marvis, taking aim. Doors slammed as two other men exited the truck. More members of the Iron Serpents. Peyton’s heart thundered. Three to one. Not great.
Go to the house. Go to the house.
Marvis jerked his chin toward the front door, and the two men moved ahead, boots crunching on the gravel. Peyton stopped breathing as they drew closer. Rain streamed down the window, distorting the glass. From his angle, the car should lookempty. Lilia and Grace were curled in the passenger footwell, invisible in the dark.
The three men passed her heading for the house.
She let go of the breath she had been holding.
And then Grace set up a wail that carried over the sound of the storm.
Marvis’s head snapped around. Peyton fired in rapid succession, sending the men scrambling for cover. Heart pounding, she collapsed into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine. Lilia screamed as a gunshot ripped through the back window of the sedan, shattering the glass.
Peyton hit the gas. The car fishtailed in the mud as more gunshots rang out. She gritted her teeth as she clipped a tree attempting to make the turn onto the drive leading to the road. The steering wheel jerked in her hands, and the vehicle careened out of control, landing in a bush. The engine died.
“No!” Peyton frantically twisted the ignition.
Then the night exploded.
The woods erupted with movement. Voices—sharp and commanding—cut through the chaos.
“Police! Get on the ground! NOW!”
Peyton kept Ricky's gun raised, her body angled over Lilia and Grace. Tremors shook her body. It was impossible to tell who was who. Her finger hovered on the trigger, even as prayers lifted from her heart. Rain beat against the sedan, making it impossible to see. Icy air blew in through the shattered back window.
Then one large figure broke from the others. Limping. Favoring his left leg.
Dawson.
