Page 31 of Prettiest Little Thief
My mother’s voice sounded from behind me. “John, what are you doing?”
My body went rigid. The need to protect her overwhelmed me as I positioned my body between her and my father. Between her and the gun.
“Mom, let me handle this. Go back downstairs.” Not even turning around to face her. She was always the peacekeeper.
But she didn’t leave. Instead, she came into the room. “This is out of hand, John. Put the gun away.”
“Shut up,” my father snarled.
My fists clenched, ready to strike with deadly force like a viper for talking to her that way.
My mom continued. “Whatever is going on, we can discuss this like adults. Let’s just take a breath.”
“Do you know what Dad has planned?” I chanced a glance at her. “With Sarah?”
Her gaze settled on her husband. “No, what is it this time?” Her lips pursed.
I answered. “He’s planning to marry her off so she can’t become an Abbott.”
“Please tell me Lucas is joking.” Mom was authentic in her surprise. No doubt just as upset as I was that he was playing with Sarah’s life.
“He isn’t. The deal is done and I’m not changing my mind.” A wicked grin pulled at his lips.
With his attention shifted on Mom, it was my chance to get closer to him. To get the gun from his hand before he hurt someone.
I struck out and grabbed the revolver, but he refused to let go. We wrestled until we fell to the floor. A tangled mess of limbs. He grunted with strain, trying to pull away from me.
BANG!
My movements stalled; time stood still as I followed in the direction of where the bullet discharged.
Stunned silence. My entire being froze over like a blizzard. Bright crimson soaked my mother’s shirt, spreading outward through the fabric.
I felt every ounce of blood drain from my face. Nausea twisted in my gut. The sound of my heart thudded loudly in my ears, and my breath caught in my throat.
Mom stared down at the wound, her mouth agape. She fell back onto the floor with a hand over the hole in her chest.
No. No. No.
My dad breathed heavily and still tried to get away from me. Either he didn’t realize what had happened, or he didn’t fucking care. I pulled back my free arm and punched him square in the face, pulling the gun from his grasp, then, pushed to my feet, staggering closer to my wounded mother.
My knees hit the carpet next to her. “Mom. Mom, you’re going to be okay.” I placed my hand over hers to add more pressure and hauled her into my lap. The faraway look in her eyes sent a bolt of panic through me. “Stay with me.”
Sarah ran in but stopped short the moment her gaze landed on the scene. Our mother in my arms and our father sprawled on the floor a few feet away. She clapped a hand over her mouth in shock. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes and a scream tore from her throat.
I sat up, covered in sweat and hardly able to breathe. The thundering in my chest was loud enough that it took a moment for me to grasp my bearings. To remember where I was. A hotel room.
Fuck. I hated the nightmares. The reminder that I was the reason my mom was dead. The only woman besides Sarah that I had truly cared for and loved.
My phone lit up on the nightstand, catching my eye in the darkened room. I grabbed it, Fox’s name popping up on the screen.
“Fox,” I answered.
“Lucas, you need to get back now.” His voice was tight, worried.
My stomach tightened. “What did she do?” I put the phone on speaker and started to pull on clothes as I waited for Fox’s reply.
“She was taken.”
