The Belial Stone (The Belial Series #1)(14)

She rolled to her feet and sprinted for the hall closet, ignoring the ache in her ribs and cheek. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Paul as he struggled to his feet, trying to catch his breath.

Flinging open the closet door, she frantically pawed at the top shelf.

“Come on, come on,” she begged.

Her hand closed around the metal shaft of the double-barreled shotgun her uncle insisted she keep in the house. She yanked it down and whirled around, her finger on the trigger, as Paul rounded the corner.

He halted, his eyes on the gun. “My, my, my. You really are full of surprises. Well, here’s a little surprise for you: That won't stop me.”

He sprang at her.

She pulled the trigger, catching him in the right shoulder at close range. He flew back, crashing into the wall, and slid down, a trail of blood following his descent.

Shaking, she kept the gun trained on the prone man, giving him a wide berth. She ran for the kitchen and grabbed her keys off the hook by the door.

“Going somewhere?”

She whirled around. He leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. The knife wound soaked the bottom of his now-tattered shirt in blood and the shotgun blast soaked the top. He was swaying, but somehow still upright. How the hell was that possible?

She fixed the shotgun on him, her finger poised over the trigger. “I’m guessing you’re going to try to stop me.”

He didn’t answer her. One minute he was standing in the doorway, and the next he was sprinting impossibly fast across the room. She leapt backwards, pulling the trigger as she did. The shotgun pellets caught the man in the neck and face. He screamed, but kept coming.

Flipping the shotgun, she held it like a baseball bat, and swung with all her might. The crack of the thick stock against his skull echoed through the kitchen. She just had time to jump out of the way before he crashed at her feet.

She didn’t wait to see if he’d get back up. She ran out the back door, grabbing her keys by the door, stumbling down the stairs in her haste, and leapt into her truck.

Turning the key, she slammed on the accelerator, peeling out of the driveway too fast. The truck fishtailed as she pulled a hard right. It took her a few anxious seconds to wrestle the SUV back under control.

Struggling to pull her cell phone from her pocket, she swerved all over the road.

She dialed Rocky. Punching the button for the speaker phone, she dropped it into the cup holder, and white-knuckled the steering wheel with her blood-speckled hands.

“Hey, sweetheart, how you doing?” Rocky’s voice was full of concern.

Laney’s words came out in a rush. “I was just attacked by a man in my home. I shot him twice and stabbed him once.”

Rocky’s tone changed immediately. “Are you safe now?”

“Yeah. I’m on my way to the station.”

“Good. Hold on a sec.” She heard Rocky yelling at people in the background, before she got back on the phone. “I’ve got units on the way to your house, including an ambulance for the attacker. Was he down when you left?”

In her mind’s eyes, she saw the man lying on her floor. For any other person, those injuries would be life-ending. But in this case, she had a sinking feeling that wasn’t true. “He was down. But I don’t think he’s out.”





CHAPTER 10



Havre, Montana



Commander Gregory ordered Tom and another man to pick up the body. They carried it to what Tom thought was a drainage ditch located on the opposite side of the entrance.

A powerful stench wafted at him as he made his way toward it. He nearly dropped the body, it was so strong. Holding his breath as he reached the edge, he peered in.

This time, he did drop the body. It wasn’t a drainage ditch.

It was a huge pit, maybe twenty feet in circumference and at least ten feet deep. Tom couldn’t tell its exact depth because of the bodies that covered the bottom of it.

The bodies lay at least three deep, and they had been there for a while. It looked like the ones on the bottom had been burned, and then new bodies had just been tossed in on top of them. There must have been over a hundred corpses, rotting away.

Transfixed by the morbid sight, Tom couldn’t move, couldn’t think. How could this be happening? Why the hell had he been brought here? Who were these guys?

The guard accompanying them slammed him in the back with the butt of his rifle. Tom’s back arched as he crashed to his knees.

“Pick it up and toss it in,” the guard ordered, his tone bored.

Tom scrambled back to his feet, his lower back throbbing, and helped the other man toss the body into the ditch. Bile rose in his throat as he watched the body bounce as it landed on the other corpses. He heard a crack as someone’s bones broke.

On the walk back, he tried to keep his face a mask. But he knew shock was splashed across his features. In line again and feeling eyes on him, he looked up to find the commander watching him. Smug. The commander looked smug.

Gregory ordered the shackled men into the enclosure and, collectively, they followed him through the entrance, surrounded by the four commandos. There were no buildings inside the wall, only one old RV near the entrance that had seen better days. And the area encased by the wall was huge – at least the size of a football field.

The enclosure was a beehive of activity. There were groups of men working in gaping holes deep into the ground. Huge mounds of dirt were scattered around the enclosure. Ramps led from the surface to the subterranean trenches. And there were a dozen eight-foot tables where men sifted dirt through large, screened squares.