At the Crossroads (Buckhorn, Montana #3)(21)

“I’ve done all I can do for him,” Earl Ray said. “There’s a hospital in the next town. The sooner you get him there—”

“I already told you—” Gene jerked him backward out of the van. Off balance, he fell to the ground, pain radiating through his back as he fought to suck air into his lungs. Gene slammed the van door and motioned with his gun for Earl Ray to get up. As he fought to catch his breath, he rolled to his side, got up on his hands and knees and was about to rise when Gene kicked him in the side, then in the stomach. Even in pain, Earl Ray shoved to his feet to avoid his boot again.

He could tell that Gene wanted to kill him. He stared into the dark hole of the gun barrel for a moment before meeting the man’s gaze. The anger, the contempt, the hatred and the fear were like a ball of roiling snakes all biting each other. “Move!” Gene ordered, motioning toward the café.

This time he didn’t have to pretend to be an old man. He felt it in his body, in his vulnerability, in the fear that had him limping toward the front door. There had been a time that he could have disarmed the man and broken his neck within a matter of seconds.

He could still do it. But he was smart enough to know that Gene was just waiting for some excuse like that. And Earl Ray wasn’t as fast or as powerful as he used to be. He wished for even one of the many weapons he kept at the house. Even as he thought it, he knew it would have been too risky with so many people already armed inside.

All he could do was try to keep everyone calm and pray that they got through this.

CULHANE WAS RELIEVED to see Earl Ray come in the door but noticed immediately that the older man was hurting. Something had happened out there. Gene was different as well. There was a distant look in his eyes, one that turned Culhane’s blood to ice. The man was on something, high as a kite, and on the edge of something bad.

He watched Earl Ray doing his best not to limp as he approached the table with Bessie and Cheri. But Bessie had noticed. Tears filled her eyes even as Earl Ray waved off her concern, saying he was fine. But Culhane could see that he was in pain as he slipped into the booth.

Gene stood in the doorway, his weapon dangling from his fingertips as he glared at his two men. “Is that my breakfast?” he demanded.

Their table looked as if wild animals had gotten into the food and spread it everywhere. Both men had eaten themselves into semicomas. He figured their reaction times had been compromised while Gene was jittery and waving his gun around.

Culhane couldn’t help thinking that if Eric hadn’t seen Tyrell videorecording them eating... What-ifs did no good, he reminded himself. He’d done too much of that kind of thinking when it came to Jana and the past.

“We left you some food,” Eric said, seeing Gene’s expression. “We were hungry.”

Gene growled and looked around the room. Culhane held his breath. It was the moment of truth. The men could take the rest of the food, pack up and leave. Or not.

It was the or not that worried him. He could see that Gene was trying to decide what to do. What would keep any one of them in this café from tipping off the cops after the four had driven away? Even if they took their cell phones, there was the landline on the wall in the kitchen.

Just then, as if on cue, the landline in the kitchen rang. Culhane’s heart dropped. Of course there would be a landline for take-out orders and now Gene knew it. The phone rang again.

He saw Gene’s face cloud over before the man stormed into the kitchen and ripped the phone off the wall, jerking the cord free and throwing it across the kitchen. Gene might be high, but he wasn’t stupid. He would realize that whoever had been calling would try again. And, failing that, would come down to the café or at least send someone. Time had run out.

His face blazing with the heat of his rage, Gene turned from the kitchen doorway and took in everyone as if making up his mind.

Here we go, Culhane thought, and glanced over at Alexis.



CHAPTER NINE


GENE MARCHED BACK INTO the dining section, his body almost vibrating with his agitation. Culhane felt his skin prickle as he saw the man make up his mind. The moment of truth had come.

“Bring the food,” Gene ordered. “If there is anything left after you two devoured it.”

“What do we do with all of them?” Eric asked, motioning to the customers as Bobby hurriedly began to close up the to-go containers.

Gene looked around the room. Culhane could feel Alexis tense next to him. Her right hand had moved under her jacket at her side. He took off his hat and set it on the counter again. He could feel her gaze on him, feel the argument in the lines of her body. She wanted to do something because she knew as well as he did that these three weren’t just going to walk out of here.

He kept his eyes on Gene, waiting for that moment when he would have to do something even if it was wrong. He could see Gene considering his options. Killing everyone in the café would require a lot of gunfire. It might bring some of the locals to see what was going on even though the earlier three shots hadn’t raised a response. Could have been a car backfiring. Could have been a semi shifting down. It didn’t feel like there were many people left in this town on a Sunday this time of year. But the gunfire it would take to kill them all would pique attention.

He watched Gene’s increasing loss of control. He couldn’t hold it together much longer. From the look on the man’s face, he wanted to end this in a blaze of gunfire. Culhane could tell that he was itching to kill someone, anyone. But if there were even a little sense left in him that wasn’t distorted by drugs, he also wanted to get out of here. Law enforcement in at least four states was on the lookout for him. A cop car could pull up at any moment.