Overkill(83)

The scream brought Zach bolt upright.

“What the—” In less than a split second he realized that Kate was no longer beside him. “Kate!” He threw off the bedcovers, his feet hit the floor, he made it to the open doorway in three strides and charged out onto the gallery. He was about to shout her name again when it died on his lips.

The tableau below made his heart stutter. Cal Parsons was holding a pistol to Kate’s right temple. Theo Simpson was standing on her left, both his hands wrapped around her upper arm, securing her in place.

Of the three, Simpson seemed to be the most rattled. He stammered, “Do you know who we are?”

“By photos. By reputation. You two get off by mistreating women.”

“S… she had no reason to scream.”

Parsons said nothing, but his eyes were fixed on Zach; his left arm was around Kate’s waist holding her against him, and his right index finger was crooked around the goddamn trigger of what looked like a Saturday night special.

Nothing fancy, but lethal.

Zach gripped the gallery railing with enough strength to uproot it from the floor. “No reason to scream except for the gun being held to her head.”

Theo looked abashed.

Cal displayed no emotion.

“They haven’t harmed me.” Kate sounded remarkably calm, although she might have been faking it, maybe for his benefit.

“This isn’t going to sit well with your probation officers,” Zach said, addressing Parsons, who replied, “I’m way past caring about that.”

“Obviously,” Zach said. “Going for broke?”

“You could say.”

Theo looked past Kate toward his partner. “Cal, maybe—”

“Shut up, Theo,” he snapped. “Get down here, Bridger.”

Zach stared directly into Kate’s eyes. She could die. Right here in front of him. His heart was thudding, his thoughts spinning erratically. He needed a weapon. Jesus! He needed a plan.

One thing was certain: He couldn’t do anything bare-ass naked and with Kate so far out of his reach. He shifted his gaze back to Parsons. “Let me get some pants on.”

He turned toward the door to the bedroom, but Parsons barked, “Hold it! Theo, make sure he doesn’t get a phone, or anything else.” He hitched his chin up toward the gallery.

“What about her?” Theo asked.

“She’s not going anywhere.” Cal tightened his hold around Kate’s waist. Theo let go of her arm and, with obvious hesitation, walked toward the staircase.

Parsons said, “We don’t have all night, Theo.”

Theo climbed the stairs. When he reached the landing, Zach turned to face him down the length of the gallery. Zach had spent the better part of his life in a locker room. He was indifferent to his nudity, but Theo seemed embarrassed for him.

He averted his eyes. “Where are your pants?”

“You’ll find a pair of jeans on the bathroom floor.”

“I’ll get them, but no funny stuff.”

It was a ludicrous line because Zach had absolutely no fear of Theo Simpson. Based on everything he’d read or heard about the trio, he knew that Theo was the tagalong who took his courage and cues from the other two.

Eban, the undisputed leader, wasn’t here to orchestrate, which left Cal in charge. He was the threat. Maybe he was trying to earn his spurs, or to usurp the leadership role from Eban. Whatever, for as long as he held that gun to Kate’s head, Zach would cooperate.

He raised his hands in surrender and said, “Fine.

From below, Cal said, “Bridger, put your hands on the top of your head and back away clear of the bedroom door. Theo, hurry up.”

Zach did as he was told. Theo scuttled past him and into the bedroom. Zach held Kate’s gaze, not taking his eyes off her once. He wished he could tell her how awesome he thought she was, how brave and smart and beautiful, how incredible making love to her had been.

All this, plus the memory of every second he’d spent with her, flashed through his mind in the time it took Theo to return with his jeans. “Did you check the pockets?” Cal asked.

“Only a key fob. No phone.”

“Wallet?”

“It’s in my duffel bag.” Zach nodded toward where he’d left it on the floor just inside the front door. “I don’t like sitting on my wallet while I’m driving.”

Cal thought it over, then gave Theo the okay. He tossed the jeans to Zach, and he pulled them on.

“All right, Bridger,” Cal said, “hands on your head again, and you lead the way.”

Zach moved past Theo and started down the staircase as directed. Theo clumped along behind him. When they reached the bottom, Cal asked, “Does the fob belong to the car out front?”

That was too easy to check, so Zach didn’t lie. “Yes. It’s Kate’s. My pickup is in her garage in Atlanta. What about your car? How’d you get past the chain?”

“We pulled our car off the road into some underbrush and came on foot.”

“Huh. How’d you get into the house?”

“I jimmied the lock on a side door off the kitchen.”

So much for his forethought to have his private road blocked. It hadn’t occurred to him that anyone would brave the unfamiliar and hazardous terrain on foot during a dense fog.