He Can Fall (She Can... #4.5)(8)

“Will he die?” the redhead asked.

“It’ll be all right,” Amanda lied. There was no way this situation was going to end without violence. Not with these men.

Something crashed overhead.

“Goddamn it.” Carl set down his coffee, picked up his shotgun, and pushed on the door to the hall. He stuck his head through the opening and shouted, “What the fuck is going on?”

Amanda couldn’t discern the muffled response.

“Well, hurry up.” Carl pulled his head back into the room.

Amanda stood. Panic pounded through her veins. These men hadn’t bothered to conceal their faces. They didn’t care about being identified, which meant they had every intention of killing their hostages. They’d already murdered the liquor store manager and shot the chef. They were going to kill them all and run.

Sean was their only hope.

Amanda’s gaze passed over the windows that looked over the backyard. Through the glass panes, she could see the lake to the left and the forest to the right. A hundred feet of snowy lawn separated the inn from the trail Sean had set out on earlier. Where was he? Would he know something was wrong or would he walk in, surprise one of the gunmen, and end up getting shot?

Footsteps pounded overhead.

Carl’s attention shifted to the hall again. The rear door opened and a rush of cold air flooded the room. Mia bolted out into the snow. Without looking back, she veered right, away from the lake and toward the woods.

Shocked at the child’s abrupt escape, Amanda briefly contemplated following her, but the sound of boots scraping on tile stopped her. Oh no. Carl. She had to keep him from chasing after Mia. She lunged forward and slammed the door closed. She pressed her back into the cold steel and looked for a weapon as Carl closed in on her, shotgun in hand. His eyes radiated pure fury. “Get out of the way, bitch!”

He raised the gun over his shoulder and swung the butt end toward her. Amanda ducked, grabbing a frying pan and swinging it at him. He jerked his head out of the way. The gun came toward her again, and even as she weaved to avoid it, she knew she couldn’t evade the blow. The stock of the shotgun glanced off her cheek, spinning her around. Pain exploded in her face, and her legs sagged. As she slid to her knees, she caught a glimpse out the window. Mia’s tiny form crossed the last few feet of snowy yard between the inn and the trees. The child disappeared into the forest.

Mia had a chance, a slim one at best, but better than nothing.

Amanda’s knees hit the tile. She turned and braced herself for another blow—or worse.

Fury darkened Carl’s features as he closed in on her. “Fuck.”

Glenn tackled him around the legs. They hit the tile in a jumble of limbs. Carl dropped the shotgun. It slid across the floor. Footsteps sounded in the hall. Ignoring the ringing in her ears, Amanda crawled toward the weapon. The door burst open. Win and Dennis ran into the kitchen. Win headed for the two men grappling on the floor. He kicked Glenn in the ribs. The innkeeper collapsed.

“Stop!” Dennis pointed a handgun at Amanda. She froze, preparing herself for the bullet, wondering if she’d ever see her daughters or her husband again. “What happened?”

“The kid got away.” Carl nodded toward the back door. “Where the hell is Lincoln?”

“I’ll go after her.” Dennis volunteered and headed for the door.

“I don’t care if you kill her or not, but we can’t leave any witnesses,” Carl said over his shoulder.

“Got it.” Wind gusted through the kitchen as Dennis went outside. The door slammed shut behind him.

Win raised the handgun to point at Amanda’s face. “I’ll teach you to behave.”

She closed her eyes and prayed that Mia would run into Sean before Dennis found her.





CHAPTER FOUR

The dry snow offered little resistance to Sean’s boots as he jogged through the quiet woods back toward the inn. With a hard run behind him, he kept his pace slow now, letting his body cool. The air was dry, last night’s fresh fall powdery. The air, laced with pine and wood smoke, was cold enough to sting his lungs when he took a deep breath. His breath steamed out in front of his face.

He slowed to a walk as the trail widened. The inn was just ahead. Was Amanda still in bed?

The noise—and the feeling that he wasn’t alone—stopped him. He stepped behind a fat oak and listened. He might be a small businessman now, but ten years ago he’d been behind enemy lines as an army Ranger. Survival instincts stuck with a man.

Something was off that Sean couldn’t ignore.

Footsteps. Two different people. One light and quick and close to him. Slightly more distant, heavy footfalls indicated a larger person. The sound of labored breathing carried over the otherwise still forest.

Sean peered around the tree. A child raced on the path toward him, her face turned backward to look over her shoulder. She faced front again. Mia. Her eyes were wide with fright, and Sean caught the faint sound of whimpering as she ran.

The heavier footsteps came closer. Through the winter-bare forest, Sean could see the dark figure of a man moving through the tree trunks. He closed in on Mia. Clad in jeans and a sweatshirt, the guy was not dressed for outdoor activity. He crashed through some dried underbrush, and his clumsy gait told Sean he wasn’t used to the woods. Sunlight glistened on a metal object in his hand. A gun. He stopped and took aim. A shot rang out over the forest. Startled birds burst from a nearby tree.