Rev It Up (Black Knights Inc. #3)(72)

Footsteps pounded up the stairs and then stomped around overhead. Johnny glanced around the pantry anxiously, looking for some way to conceal himself more thoroughly.

He couldn’t let this jackass, whoever he was, muck up his plans yet again.

There. In the back corner.

A large packing box stood open, an odd assortment of baskets tossed inside.

Slowly, quietly, he pulled the baskets out and stacked them beside a shelf. Then, just as stealthily, he climbed into the box. It was a squeeze, but he managed to fold himself into a ball, carefully keeping his Ruger at the ready should he need it, and pulled the flaps closed over his head.

Then he waited.

His breath caught in his lungs when the footfalls sounded on the stairs again. And then he heard the man enter the kitchen a few seconds before the refrigerator door slammed shut. He swallowed, and it sounded like a gun blast inside the stuffy silence of the box. Sweat trickled down his temple when the pantry door opened, and he blew out a silent breath when it closed again.

The man’s cell phone came to life with a blast of rock music, and Johnny listened as the guy answered gruffly, giving instructions to somebody on the other end. When the sound of his voice faded, Johnny soundlessly emerged from the box and tiptoed toward the pantry door.

He tipped his chin until he could see through one of the thin, horizontal openings, blinking at the huge man with a bright blue cast standing in the middle of the living room.

His heart began to pound with giddy anticipation when he recognized the giant.

Frank Knight. Owner of Black Knights Incorporated.

What were the odds?

Pretty good actually, since you’re hiding in his sister’s pantry.

He suppressed a wry chuckle and thumbed off the safely on his pistol.

He knew this wasn’t the plan. The plan was to kill Frank’s family. An eye for an eye. But Johnny couldn’t bring himself to pass up an opportunity like this.

He started to lift the Ruger, to point it at Frank Knight’s back, when suddenly the big man swung around, seeming to stare straight at him. It was like being caught in the crosshairs of a rifle, and Johnny’s neck prickled like it was crawling with ants; a bead of sweat slid coldly down his spine.

He held his breath, ready to raise his gun those final few inches and fire the instant Frank made a move in his direction. But the big man turned abruptly and stalked across living room. Johnny’s heart tripped over itself as he released his pent-up breath.

Holy f*ck, that dude is scary looking. Far more intimidating in the flesh than in his photos. Of course, Johnny wasn’t scared. Hell no. He was far from scared. He was downright ecstatic. This was the head honcho right here!

His finger curled around the trigger as his palms began to itch. The air inside the pantry grew heavy and damp with his rapid breathing, with the sweat that broke out all over his body.

“No,” he heard Frank laugh. “We are not going down in the river tunnel for a quickie. It’s wet and creepy down there. Remember what happened this morning when you thought you felt a spider in your hair, and you started running around screaming? It completely ruined my happy ending. I’m coming out now. Warm up the engine for me, will ya? No,” the big guy laughed again. “Not that engine. The one on the Hummer.”

Carefully, Johnny pushed open the pantry door, wincing when it squeaked. But, fortunately, the sound was masked by a series of beeps coming from the security panel on the wall by the front door. Hurriedly, he tiptoed across the kitchen, silently raising his weapon as he went. When he stepped into the living room, a smile on his face, the Ruger hot in his hand, his finger already squeezing the trigger, he was met by the front door swinging closed.

“Fuck me!” he cursed beneath his breath, racing across the living room, feeling his opportunity to kill Frank Knight slip through his fingers.

His hand was on the knob, preparing to wrench open the front door and take aim, when the sound of a big engine firing up stopped him cold.

He peeked through the leaded glass at the top of the door in time to see a monster black Hummer pull from the curb.

“Goddamnit!”

For a split second, he contemplated taking aim and filling the SUV full of holes. But he managed to restrain himself.

So okay, he forced himself to uncurl his finger from the trigger, you missed your chance to kill Frank Knight. Maybe it’s better this way.

After all, dying was easy compared to the suffering the dude would face once Johnny was finished with his sister.

Quickly glancing at the alarm system, he noted the motion detectors were programmed to arm in fifteen seconds, which gave him just enough time to hoof it up to the second floor and get himself into position.

With anticipation burning bright in his heart, he turned and raced up the stairs.

***

Stupid cell phones! They’re always out of batteries when you need them!

Michelle tossed her useless phone into her purse and tentatively glanced across the hospital bed at Jake’s rigidly controlled face. He’d stayed in Franklin’s room with her all night and all day, and he’d yet to ask the one question she knew must be burning a hole in his brain.

Why?

She saw it in his eyes every time he looked at her, caught it on his expression whenever he gazed at Franklin.

But he hadn’t asked it.

And why hadn’t he asked it? Why hadn’t he given her a chance to explain like her brother had begged him to?