Colton Christmas Protector (The Coltons of Texas #12)(69)

A frisson of ice slithered down Fowler’s spine. This merciless, rattled version of the family lawyer was deeply disturbing. “Are you responsible for my father’s disappearance? Did you kill Eldridge, too?”

Hugh sneered. “I wish I could take credit for that. But I have no idea where your father is.”

As his disbelief morphed into righteous indignation and revulsion, Fowler was pricked with a sense of urgency. He needed to alert the police, to de-escalate the situation with Penelope and Reid. He slid his phone from his breast pocket and began thumbing the screen to enter his passcode. “You don’t really think you’ll get away with this? Contracting three murders on top of all the fraud and malpractice?”

Hugh paced to his credenza and poured himself a large whiskey. “I’ve been getting away with it for years. I learned from the best how to cover my tracks.”

Fowler almost laughed. How was his current gloating covering his tracks? The voice recorder was taking down everything Hugh had said, but he needed more. Where were his men taking Penelope? Could he warn Reid before his half brother walked into a trap? He’d never much liked Reid or any of Whitney’s children, but that didn’t mean he wanted him murdered.

“Too bad Reid caught on. Now too many people know what you’ve done.”

“Which is why your brother has to die. I refuse to spend my remaining years in some stinking jail cell.” He took a long swallow of whiskey. “I only need a couple hours, and I’ll be gone. Maybe to Mexico. Definitely somewhere warm with no extradition to the US.” Hugh slammed down his drink and stalked back to open his desk drawer. “But I can’t allow anyone to talk about what they know. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my secrets hidden.”

A prickle of alarm shot through Fowler a split second before Hugh pulled a revolver from his desk. And aimed it at Fowler.

Pure gut instinct took over. Fight or flight. Fowler chose fight.

He launched himself across Hugh’s desk, hands outstretched. He heard the click as Hugh tried to shoot, but the gun didn’t fire. An empty chamber or an unloaded weapon?

No time to find out. He grabbed at Hugh’s wrists, trying to shove his hands up.

“Mr. Barrington!” the secretary screeched from the office door.

“Call the cops!” Fowler barked. He blocked Hugh’s arm when he tried to angle the gun in his direction.

An earsplitting blast jarred Fowler. He froze for a split second. The chemical tang of gunpowder filled his nose. A numb ringing muted his hearing. And then he felt the pain.

*

Penelope sat with her back rigid, fear tensing all her muscles. She listened with her heart in her throat as the men discussed their next move.

“I say just take her into the woods and finish ’em both. Leave ’em for the animals to eat.” The man to her left, who had bad teeth and a tattoo of a fist on his neck, gave her an evil grin. “Crows gotta eat same as worms.”

Her stomach rolled at the morbid line she recognized from a Clint Eastwood movie she’d watched with Andrew. No doubt Tattoo Neck thought he was clever, quoting the line.

“Not yet. We still need Colton,” the man in the front seat countered. “Barrington said to use her as bait for Colton, then get rid of them both.”

A shiver chased up her spine hearing her father’s name, having this confirmation that her own father was behind the kidnapping and her impending murder. Rage and hurt seethed in her belly, a toxic brew that left her nauseated and heartsick.

“So then we’re going back to Lenny’s to wait?” the driver asked.

“Hell no! We can’t risk my neighbors hearing anything or seeing her,” Tattoo growled.

“So where do we go with her until we have Colton?” the driver asked.

“Back to Colton’s hideout.” The man with the buzz cut in the front passenger seat tapped the screen of his phone. To the driver, he said, “We picked up the first signal about two miles from here. At the lake.”

Penelope’s heart scampered, but she fought the panic. She had only a few minutes to make a plan. Her only advantage was knowledge of the house layout. How long would it be before Reid showed up? Could she signal him in some way, warn him?

Tattoo jabbed his gun toward Nicholas, who continued crying pitifully. “Shut that kid up, or I’ll pop him now!”

She recoiled, ice sluicing through her as she angled her body to shield her son. “He’s scared! And sick! We were headed to the doctor when you stopped us.”

Tattoo scowled, then jerked his head toward Nicholas. “What’s that on his neck?”

When Penelope cast a glance down at her baby, she spotted a blood-stained fluid dripping from his ear.

*

White-hot pain stole Fowler’s breath. The sonofabitch had shot him! Disbelief and horror rode shotgun to the burning ache that paralyzed him momentarily. When he was finally able to suck in a gurgling breath, he clutch at the hole in his side and lifted his palm to stare numbly at the red staining his hand.

Barrington took advantage of Fowler’s incapacitation, shoving at him to free his legs. And roll away.

Fowler fumbled to grab at Barrington’s pant leg as the lawyer untangled himself and staggered to his feet.

“Stop...him!” he rasped to the secretary, gaping at them from the door.

To which Hugh, waving his weapon, countered, “Out of my way, woman!”