Page 20 of Doyle

The knife clattered against the far doorway.

Tia scrabbled farther away from Sebold, and Doyle reached for her.

Sebold landed on her, hauled her up, and found his knife. He pressed it to her neck again. “Stop! Stop!”

Doyle’s hands went into the air. “I’m stopping!”

Kemar picked right then to come in behind him. “Kemar, run!”

Sebold motioned to Kemar. “Pick that up, kid.”

A suitcase lay on the floor in the hallway.

“No—no. Please. You have no use for an ultrasound machine—” Tia’s voice seemed more angry than afraid.

Sebold slapped her, and Doyle shouted. “C’mon!”

Blood darkened her blouse, the tip of the knife finding flesh.

“Listen. Take the machine,” Doyle said. “Take whatever you want!”

Tia spat at him. “You’re a sick man.”

C’mon, Tia! Don’t make him angrier!

Blood dripped down her collarbone, her eyes fierce.

Kemar picked up the suitcase. Outside, shots sounded.

Sebold didn’t even flinch. Oh no—maybe he had S-7 guys here.

Jamal hadn’t moved from where he stood by the door, and now he looked at Doyle, his brown eyes wide.

“Get out of here, Jamal.”

“No!” Kemar turned to Jamal. “Come to me.”

Jamal shook his head.

“Comehere.”

“No!”

Kemar lost it. He shouted, threw the ultrasound machine at Doyle, then rushed him.

Doyle hit the suitcase away from him, but Kemar had him. He slammed Doyle against the door, outside into the yard. Got his knee on his chest and punched him.

Doyle didn’t hit kids but this wasenough.

He grabbed Kemar, rolled, and pushed him face down in the dirt, his arm in a submission hold.

Kemar screamed—maybe rage, or pain, or even frustration.

“Don’t, Mr. D! Don’t hurt my brother!” Jamal bounced around them, crying. “Don’t hurt him.”

And right then it occurred to Doyle—where was Keon? Or any of the other security they’d hired?

He needed help. “Taj! Andre!”Shoot?—

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