Page 65 of Just Beachy

“I’m sorry.” Brian doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “I didn’t want to be a part of any of this. But when the Drake family discovered I’d met your grandmother, I owed them so much money, I couldn’t refuse.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that,” I shoot back. “In my experience there’s always a choice—even if it’s the lesser of evils. But I’ll promise you one thing: If you let my grandmother get hurt, I will hunt you down, even if it’s from the grave.”

Thirty-One

I have no idea wherewe are or even how long we’ve been driving when the car finally comes to a stop and the motor is turned off. Brian helps me out of the car, but the sunglasses are not removed as we walk across what I assume is a parking lot, through an exterior door of some kind, then up a flight of stairs. I stumble on the stairs several times, and if it weren’t for Brian’s grip on my elbow, I would have fallen down the stairs by now. Or at least into the Huge Scary Guy who’s so close behind us, I can feel his hot breath on the back of my neck. I hear the crinkle of paper and assume that Brian’s holding the rolled-up canvas in his free hand.

When we reach what seems to be a landing, Brian lets go of my elbow and knocks once on a door. Footsteps approach on what must be a wood floor. The door creaks open, Huge Scary Guy (whom I will forever think of asLurch) pushes Brian and me inside then steps in behind us, which means I’ll have to get past or through him to get Grand out.

Someone steps up in front of me and removes my sunglasses. As they pat me down, mercifully neglecting to order me to remove my boots or check inside them, I blink rapidly to adjust to the light so that I can assess the threat just like Cassie would.

The sight of my grandmother slumped, head down, in the chair she’s tied to sends adrenaline coursing through me. I begin to calculate how best to incapacitate, or kill, Lurch, the armed men standing on either side of her, and presumably, Brian, so that I can get Grand out of here. Clearly the odds are not in my favor, but when Grand raises her head, sits up straighter, and pins her gaze on me, I see that her anger and frustration outweigh her fear.

I also see the huge bruise on her cheek. And a murderous rage takes hold of me.

“So this is the way you treat an eighty-three-year-old woman?” I shout. “What on earth is wrong with you people?”

The men on either side of her stand fast. The guard to her right says, “She’s tied to the chair because she broke Tom’s nose.” He nods toward the guard on the other side of Grand, who’s wearing what looks like a makeshift splint.

I glance at Grand and see a smile tug at her split lip. Then I see one eyebrow go up. She nods in my direction and mouths the word “Now.”

I bend down, yank the pistol out of my boot, and aimit at Guard One while trying to block Lurch’s view. “Untie her! Now!”

While they’re doing as instructed, I whirl around and shoot Lurch in the kneecap, giving Grand time to scurry out of the way. Then Cassie Everheart’s instincts take over—or at least the ones I used when I played her—and I whirl back and drop Guard One with a bullet to the hand that’s holding his gun. I’m just about to drop Guard Two when I realize he also has a gun in his hand. Before I can react, he manages to get off a shot that comes so close, I feel it fly past my ear before I take him down with a shot to his upper thigh. Okay, that’s not where I was aiming, but it was apparently close enough to his “manhood” to discourage him from firing back.

Having taken every other threat out of commission, I turn and walk toward Brian, leading with the Glock.

His hands go up. One of them holds the rolled-up canvas I’d hoped to use to get Grand and me out of here. “I’m not armed. In fact, I’m here to help. I’ve done my best to throw them off the scent, including sending them to search your grandmother’s house in Atlanta to get them out of town while I tried to figure out how to protect you both.”

The door creaks open and swings inward, pushing Lurch out of the way. A tall, lean man somewhere in his early sixties steps over Lurch and walks toward Brian. He’s holding a gun. I’m still trying to figure out who he is and why he’s here when he snatches the decoy canvas from Brian’s hand. “Yeah, that’s kind of what I thought.”

“Marc!” Brian says, the tremor in his voice unmistakable.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come to see things done right?” the man named Marc says. “Drop your guns. Now! Or my first shot will end the life of thebitchwho started all this.”

Brian does as instructed.

With a sinking heart, I follow suit.

But Grand is not cowed. “You mean thebitchwhose work your father claimed, and your family has lived off your entire life?” she snaps back, her voice steady, her gaze locked on the man who is apparently Phillip Drake’s son.

“Yes, you!” Marc hisses. “The one who ruined my mother’s life. Thebitchhe never forgot.”

Grand shakes her head. “You look so much like your father but you’re nothing at all like him.”

Drake’s son snorts. “Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment. I’m mymother’sson.Shewas the one who loved and raised me while my father was out screwing any willing piece of ass. She’s hated you most of all because, cheater that he was, my father never got over you. He actually wanted to acknowledge you as the painter and rightful owner ofThe Madonna. Fortunately, he died before he could make that happen.”

Grand gasps. “Tell me you didnotkill your father over that painting.”

“Nope, didn’t need to.” He shrugs. “The cancer took care of that.”

His lack of remorse, as well as his willingness to harmGrand to get what he wanted, sends a shiver up my spine. For a second, I’m frozen in place. Then anger ignites deep inside me.

“Enough talking, let’s end this.” Marc snatches the decoy canvas out of Brian’s hands then backhands Brian hard enough to send him crashing to the floor, where he lands face down. When Brian doesn’t get up, Marc turns his attention to the decoy canvas. Any chance of getting out of here before he discovers that what he’s holding isnotactuallyThe Madonnaevaporates.

This is the only opportunity I may get. There are guns lying everywhere, but I have no confidence that I can reach down, grab a gun, and shoot Marc before he can kill both Grand and me.

So I do what Cassie would have done. I take two quick steps so that I’m within striking distance. Then I pull up one knee, bend, rotate my hips, and send the gun flying out of Marc’s hand with a roundhouse kick. The gun skitters across the floor toward Grand, who swoops it up with an agility that takes everyone by surprise.

---