Page 81 of Holiday Hostage
I’d never forget his voice, or the arrogance in his stance. I gripped my pistol tighter.
There would be no negotiations, but I didn’t have a clear enough shot to take now that he’d retreated into the trees.
“Did you really think that storm would protect you? That I’d let something as trivial as Mother Nature stand between me and my ransom?”
Jack’s voice came from a distance, the sound distorted by the trees and landscape. “Did you think I wouldn’t remember how Reed raved about this place?”
“Has he been listening to our conversations?” Tarron hissed the question at me, his face twisted into hatred.
“Maybe.” There was technology that would allow him to do that. Which meant he might know all our plans. Shit. I had to think fast.
“Hand her over.” The distortion worsened. He’d cut into the trees in front of us, but his voice came from the far left.
“That’s not going to happen.” I brought Payton even closer to my side. So close her breath brushed my neck and her feet bracketed mine.
Jack’s laughter held death and mayhem. So be it. We all knew how to play that game.
Movement shifted in the firelight. In his arrogance, he had forgotten to keep track of the shadows.
“I hoped you’d say that. I’ve been looking for an excuse to kill you. But you just won’t die. No matter how hard I try to get rid of you, you keep finding a way to live. It’s vexing.”
“Didn’t know you understood words like that.” Tarron taunted.
“Oh, I understand more than you think.” He moved too quickly for a clean shot.
I’d only get one chance, and that would only happen if he moved into the light. I wouldn’t risk shooting blind, though it was so damned tempting that my finger curled around the trigger.
The men he had waiting in front of the cabin stopped me.
We needed a way out that didn’t include a gunfight with an entire band of mercenaries.
“You can’t kill us because you’re a piss poor shot,” Reed taunted with a sneer.
I almost told them to knock it off, but their taunting might be what we needed to pull Jack from the shadows.
Angry men made mistakes.
“No. That’s where you’re wrong, Reed. I’m an excellent shot. Your friend Tarron is the problem. He’s some twisted version of Dr. Frankenstein, always bringing dead men back to life.”
A branch rustled, and I took aim. “Who will save you when the good doctor is dead?”
The shot tore through the air even as his words took hold and understanding dawned.
I’d been prepared for him to shoot at me, which caused me to turn even further to shield Payton.
I waited for the pain. Nothing.
My eyes flared wide when Tarron grunted.
His grip on Payton loosened, and his face fell slack.
“No.” Payton wailed and grabbed for Tarron.
Her fingers found empty air as Tarron fell backward onto the cold wood.
It rattled with the force of his fall, and the explosion of denial that tore from my mouth seared my throat.
Reed opened fire. Bullets sprayed the ground where I thought Jack had been lurking.
