Keep your cool, Jace.
Keep your fucking cool.
“Hey, Molly,” he said casually, slipping his phone away. “I’m gonna head out. Gotta swing by Colt’splace. He lives about forty-five minutes from here, so I won’t be back for a while.”
On the surface, it sounded like exactly what this psychopath would want to hear.
But I knew better. Colt lived ten minutes down the road. Jace wasn’t going to Colt’s; he was heading to his truck. To the gun he kept locked in the glove box—his Colt .45, which also happened to be our brother’s nickname growing up.
He was secretly telling me he was going to get his gun. We didn’t stand a chance without it, and we both knew it. Just like the saying goes––don’t bring a knife to a gun fight.
“Sounds, good. I’ll be here if you need me.” I smiled as I waved him off.
“Try to take it easy while I’m gone,” Jace said before walking out the door. Code fordon’t do anything rash.
I was so fucked.
I kept talking—rambling about wedding cakes—even though we both knew damn well he wasn’t here for that.
“Are you thinking two or three tiers?”
He glanced toward the door, watching Jace leave. The second Jace disappeared from view, he twisted back to me.
Here we go.
He moved fast, like I knew he would, and grabbed my arm—his Mr. Nice Guy act evaporating instantly.
“You’re coming with me,” he said, yanking me so hard my shoulder almost came out of the socket. I winced in pain.
Fuck this guy.
Pregnant or not, I wasn’t going down without a fight.
I spun and punched him square in the face. My fist connected with his nose, a solid hit.
You didn’t grow up with two older brothers without learning how to throw a good punch. Tossing fifty-pound bags of flour and sugar around every day helped too.
His grip loosened as blood poured down his face.
Gross.
I bolted for the back, slammed the door, and locked it just in time. The impact rattled the frame as he hit it seconds later, trying to kick it in. The lock would hold for now—but not forever.
Where the hell was Jace and that fucking gun of his?
“Open up, bitch,” he shouted through the door. “You’re only making things harder on yourself. If you don’t come with me now, someone else will come for you. And I can guarantee they won’t be as friendly as I am.”
“Fuck you!” I yelled.
Immediately after that, I heard a gun cocking.
My body turned cold. He was going to shoot through the lock.
I ran toward the back of the kitchen, panic clawing up my throat. I lunged for the back door. It was my only option now. Hopefully another asshole like him wouldn’t be waiting outside—his backup.
I swung the door open in a panic as gunshots popped behind me. One. Two. Three.
Then silence.
