He Can Fall: She Can Series (5 page)

Ten minutes.
The clock ticked in Sean’s head. Rage bubbled in his chest. Pure and simple rage. Fuck honor and Sean’s newfound sense of morality. That man had touched Amanda, and Sean was going to break him into bite-size pieces with his bare hands. Sean’s conscience was going radio silent. He knew with complete certainty that killing that man would bring him nothing but pleasure. If that was a sin that sent Sean to hell for all of eternity, it would be worth every second. A tug on his shirt diverted his attention from its slide show of violent images.

She stared up at him. “Sean? What are you going to do?”

Mia.
Shit.

There was no more time to contemplate options. He had to stash the child somewhere before he could go after Amanda.

“We’re going inside.” Sean’s gaze ping-ponged from the house to the boathouse at the edge of the lake. Glenn kept canoes, fishing rods, and other sporting equipment in that shed. He led Mia through the trees until they were parallel with the boathouse. A tree blocked the direct line of sight from the house. Then they sprinted across the small patch of open ground. Opening the door, Sean tugged Mia inside. They were out of the wind, but dampness made the boathouse feel even colder than the outside air. Sean scanned the walls. Kayaks and canoes were racked on one wall. Snowshoes, cross-country skis, and ice skates dominated the other. Miscellaneous gear was stored on shelves and in bins in the corner: tools, rope, bungee cords, extra fishing line. Sean walked forward and hefted a coiled length of nylon rope. Perfect.

He checked his watch.
Six minutes.

“Hold still.” He fashioned a rappeling harness on Mia.

“What’s this?” She held her arms out to the sides as if making a snow angel.

“This is how we’re getting inside.”

“I thought they were watching the doors?”

Sean tossed the remaining rope over his shoulder. “We’re not using the door.”

Back outside the shed, he circled around toward the inn, keeping Mia behind him and staying just inside the tree line. When they’d reached the far side, the portion of the inn with the fewest windows, he gauged the distance across the snow. Maybe fifty feet, and no direct line of sight with the kitchen. This was as good as it was going to get. Putting Mia on his back, he burst from the cover of the trees and sprinted across the open lawn.

He tied the end of the rope around his waist. “You wait here. I’m going to climb to the roof. I’ll pull you up.”

“OK.” Her voice was as small as her body.

Sean climbed onto the air-conditioning unit. He grabbed the eave and tested it with his weight. A metallic creak sounded out across the woods, but the soffit held. He muscled himself up onto the roof, then pulled Mia up behind him.

Keeping a firm hold on the child, Sean edged across the shingles until he came to a window. This room was over the garage and used mainly for storage. On the opposite side of the building from the kitchen, small sounds should not be audible to the gunmen. He hoped.

A glance through the window told him the room was empty. Sean shielded Mia with his body. “Close your eyes and cover your face.”

He popped his elbow through a pane, the fabric of his shirt muffling the sound of breaking glass. He reached in and unlocked the sash. He raised the window.

“Careful of the glass shards,” he whispered.

Lifting Mia through the opening, he climbed in just in time to hear a woman’s scream.

Amanda
.

His ten minutes were up.

Amanda couldn’t hold back the scream as Win grabbed her by the hair and pulled her out onto the porch. She put a hand to her scalp, flattening his fingers against her skull to minimize the tension on her hair. The knife was at her throat again, this time in front of her windpipe. Afraid to move, afraid to breathe, she angled her head back.

“You’re out of time,” Win shouted. He lowered the knife and dragged Amanda back into the kitchen. “You know what that means.”

Amanda’s gaze landed on the knife block. Too far. Was there anything within reach she could use as a weapon?

“You’re all mine.” He kept moving, hauling her across the tile toward the door that led to the hall. “We need a little privacy for what I have in mind.”

Carl stepped in front of them. “What are you doing, Win?”

“You promised. She’s mine,” Win said, defiant as an unruly child.

“Not now. Stay focused,” Carl ordered. “You take spoils after the battle, not in the middle, you dumb shit.”

“Insult me again and you’ll pay.” Win pointed to Carl with the knife. “I’m taking her, and you can’t stop me.”

Carl took a step back. “Damn it. You have fucked up this job from the get-go.”

“I’m going to fuck you up if you don’t get out of my face.” Win brought the knife back to Amanda’s throat. The tension in his forearm amplified with his anger. One sharp move, even an unintentional, impulsive motion, would slice Amanda’s jugular.

“Let him have her, Carl,” Lincoln said. “It’ll keep him out of our hair for a while. Maybe we can figure a way to get out of this hole he dug us into.”

Carl stepped aside. “Be quick about it.”

Win looped Amanda’s hair around his palm. “I’m done when I’m done.”

“Please.” Amanda spat out the words, hating the whine of fear in her voice. Win would get off on her terror. “Don’t.”

“You don’t get to talk.” He backhanded her across the face.

Pain roared through her cheek and echoed in her head. He hauled her into the corridor and let the door to the kitchen close behind them.

“But you can scream if you want to. I like the sound of that.” His pupils dilated. His nostrils flared with rabid excitement. Gripping her hair in a tight fist, he pressed her against the wall. With her head anchored, she could barely move. He squeezed her breast and ground his erection into her belly.
Wait.
One hand was in her hair, the other groping her.
Where was the knife?
Amanda separated her thoughts from her body. Forcing her fear and humiliation into the back of her mind, she craned her neck and looked over his shoulder for the knife. There it was. He’d put it in a sheath on the back of his belt. Could she reach it? With her head immobilized, the movement was awkward.

“Looking for me?”

Sean’s voice spun Win around. He reached for the now-empty sheath at his back.

“You touched my wife.” Sean lunged, knuckle-punching Win in the throat.

Amanda heard a popping sound, then a wet gasp. The tension on her hair released. She sagged against the wall. Win collapsed to the ground. His head listed. His mouth was wide open, but nothing went in or out. Unable to breathe or speak with a crushed larynx, he deflated with a gurgle. Watching the man suffocate, Amanda gagged.

The kitchen door opened. “What the fuck?” Leading with the barrel of the shotgun, Carl came through the opening.

Sean stepped in front of Amanda. He grabbed the barrel with both hands, simultaneously shoving it down to point at the floor and ripping the gun from Carl’s grip. Sean swung the stock and caught Carl with a solid blow to the head. Carl went down. Blood leaked from his temple and puddled on the industrial gray carpet.

“There’s one more man,” Amanda whispered.

Sean didn’t acknowledge her comment, but she knew he heard her. He motioned for her to stay behind him and peered through the small window into the kitchen. “Is that him bolting out the back door?”

“Yes.” Amanda hurried to the door just in time to see the man’s running figure disappear into the trees.

They went into the kitchen. Sean set the gun on the floor and dropped to his knees beside the redhead. He checked Tanner’s pulse. “He’s still alive. Let me see if I can get the phone working. He needs a hospital.”

Beyond Tanner, Glenn hadn’t moved.

Amanda went to Glenn. His eyes opened as she touched his shoulder. “How badly are you hurt?”

“Some broken ribs, I think.” Glenn winced. “I’ll make it.”

But his face was pale and his pulse weak. Amanda untied him and looked up at Sean. “We really need help.”

“I’m on it.”

“Wait a fucking minute!”

The shrill, feral voice startled Amanda. She whirled as a shot blasted through the kitchen. The redhead screamed, and Amanda ducked.

The clerk held the shotgun. Her eyes were panicked, and her hands shook enough that Amanda feared the girl would inadvertently pull the trigger again. She aimed the huge barrel directly at Sean’s chest. “What did you do with my Win?”

Sean sized up the black-haired girl who was pointing the shotgun at his center mass. Physically, she was a mess, sweating and shaking, but she looked comfortable with the gun as if she’d handled weapons in the past.

“I thought she was a hostage.”

“Me too.” Amanda stared in shock.

Sean’s body hadn’t processed the adrenaline from the encounters with Win and Carl, and the prospect of killing a woman, barely more than a girl really, turned his stomach sour.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up,” the girl cried. Her hair stuck to her forehead in wet, lanky locks. Mascara dripped black below her eyes. “Win promised me more crack if I helped him rob the store. He promised. Where is he?”

“He’s in the hall,” Sean said.

The girl inched sideways. The gun heavy and unwieldy in her thin arms.

Sean raised his hands chest high, palms out, in a nonthreatening position but ready to react if he got a chance. He still had the handgun in the back of his waistband. He hadn’t used the single bullet on Win for fear of alerting Carl. But he’d never reach it before she blew him in half.

“Stop moving.” Her voice broke.

“You don’t want to hurt anyone,” he said in a calm voice.

“Fuck you. I don’t care.” She raised the butt of the gun to her shoulder. Her gaze darted to the door and back. Suspicion narrowed her eyes. “Did you hurt Win?”

Sean didn’t answer. The gun was a double-barreled shotgun, manual load. The maximum number of shells it held was two, and it had already gone off once. If she shot Sean, Amanda and the others would be OK. Sean had had many narrow escapes in the past. Maybe he’d used up all nine of his lives. But damn, the thought of never seeing his wife or kids again hollowed out his chest. What if Amanda was pregnant? Sean would never know.

The girl cranked back the hammer. Sean braced himself, but her eyes went wide. She dropped the gun. With an expression of complete surprise, she collapsed to the floor.

Behind her, Amanda stood, a chef’s knife clenched in her hand. The blade gleamed with blood. A drop fell to the white tile, spreading on the porcelain into a perfect red circle. Sean jumped forward, easing the knife from Amanda’s grasp. Her pupils were dilated, her complexion white as paste. He folded her into his arms.

She trembled against his chest for a few seconds, then pushed herself away and wiped her eyes with her palms. Her gaze fell to the girl on the floor. “I should try to stop the bleeding.”

Sean assessed the girl. The knife had entered her back low, probably piercing one of her kidneys. She wasn’t a physical risk anymore, but he quickly patted her down for weapons. He rolled her on her side, exposing the wound. “OK, but be careful.”

“Just get the phone lines back up.” Amanda grabbed a thick oven mitt and used it to apply pressure to the wound.

“Glenn, do you have some tape?” Sean asked the innkeeper.

Glenn pointed to a drawer. “There’s some first-aid tape in the kit. Will that do?”

“For now, yes.” Tape in hand, Sean bolted from the kitchen into the cold air. Behind the garage, he found the cut in the phone line. Using the knife he’d taken from the first man he’d killed, he stripped the wires, then twisted and taped them together. They could make a call, but the line would need a real repair.

He went back inside and called 911 before making his way upstairs to the room over the garage where he’d left Mia. The door opened with a squeak. “Mia?”

“Sean.” She emerged from under a sheeted table and hurled her tiny body into his arms. “Is my grandpa OK? What happened to Tanner?”

“Your grandpa is hurt a little, but I think he’s going to be fine, and I called for an ambulance. The sooner we get Tanner to a hospital, the better.” As much as he wanted to promise her Tanner would be fine, he couldn’t. She trusted him, and he had a feeling she’d be able to sense a lie.