The Killing Game(110)

Blam! Blam!

“Stop! Stop!” Luke yelled as both brothers scrambled for their lives. He saw Blake go down and Brian reach behind himself for a gun.

“Wait!” Luke screamed, scrabbling for his sidearm as he threw himself toward Brian.

Blam!

Blam!

Luke fell into Brian with a thud and both men went down. Luke grabbed Brian’s arm and smashed the gun from his hand. But Brian didn’t resist. He looked at Luke with dazed eyes. “She shot me.”

Luke leaped up, gun in hand. He kicked Brian’s gun across the room. Blake was down. Eyes open. A bullet wound in the left side of his forehead. He whipped around and saw Peg still standing, the gun down at her side. It slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.

She whispered, “Did I kill him? Blake? Did I kill him?”

“Peg, come here.” Luke put his arm around her and guided her to a kitchen chair. Brian was groaning on the floor. Darker color was staining the front of his dark sweatshirt. He’d been shot in the chest.

“I need to call nine-one-one,” Luke told her.

“Yes.” She looked down at her side. Blood was turning the pink bathrobe crimson.

“Oh, Peg.” Luke reached for his phone, stabbing in the numbers.

“It was worth it, you know. They killed Ted and they were never going to pay for it. Your partner tried to get them, but he couldn’t.”

“Nine-one-one. What is the nature of your emergency?”

“The doctors told me I had six months on the outside,” Peg went on. “I’ve about used that up, so I decided it was time to make them pay.”

“There’s been a shooting,” Luke said, his voice catching. “Three people down.”

Peg patted his arm. “It’s going to be okay now. . . .”

*

“We would like you to move to the waiting room,” the nurse said to Andi and Ben, who’d already been moved to the hall.

“What if she wakes up?” Ben asked. “I want to be here.”

“I’ll send the doctor on call to talk to you,” she said firmly.

Andi and Ben went down to the main floor. They stood in the reception area for ten minutes, but no doctor arrived. “They’re not going to let us back in there tonight,” Ben said angrily.

“They might,” Andi responded, but she was beginning to feel tired and was seriously considering going to Luke’s apartment. She thought about calling him but decided to wait till she was on her way.

“Guess I’ll go home for a while,” Ben said. “Get something to eat. Nothing else to do around here.” He pushed against the bar for one of the double glass doors. “You coming?”

“Might as well. I’ll come back in the morning.”

He nodded, then added, “You came with Denton, right?”

“Yes, but I can take Uber.”

“I can give you a lift. You going back to the cabin?”

She looked at Ben. “I’m still deciding,” she demurred.

“What’s to decide?”

“I don’t know.”

They looked at each other for long moments. Andi’s pulse began to pound, slow and hard. Ben had been nothing but loving toward his wife, but they just had his word that he’d taken the elevator and waited around for her, not knowing she’d used the stairs.

He said casually, “No one wants to hear what I think about the Carreras, but I don’t think it’s such a bad idea doing business with them. They’ve always made money.”

“They skate around the law,” Andi said.

“Everyone acts like they’re criminals. What they are is businessmen who know how to run profitable businesses. I know you and Emma are against them, but Carter seems to think they’re okay.”

“They’re not okay,” she said, reaching for her phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Uber.”

“I said I’d give you a ride.” His voice was rising with anger.

“I don’t need one, thank you.”

She walked away from him, down a covered walk that divided the parking lot. She saw him slap the air at her in a huff and stomp toward his car. Her Uber app told her a car would reach her in seven minutes. Good.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text.




Ambulance here. Shoot out. Peg and Carreras injured. Will call soon.




“Holy God.” She stared at the screen in shock. She wanted to call him. Knew she should wait for his call.

“Hey,” a male voice growled near her ear.

She jumped in fear. She hadn’t heard him approach.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot,” he said in a gravelly voice she was sure was deliberately disguised. Something hard was pressed to the small of her back.

She wasn’t going to be taken hostage. She would take the risk.

But he seemed to outguess her because as she jumped forward, half-expecting the shot, he took back the gun and slammed it against the side of her head. Pain exploded inside her skull. She staggered and went down on one knee and he dragged her to a nearby car. A dark Ford sedan. She twisted to try to see the license plate, but he had her in the passenger seat too fast.

He wore a hoodie, a ski mask, and gloves. His lips were curved in a cold smile.