by Angi Morgan
Brian couldn’t slow the three-story downward tumble on his own, but the hackberry branches helped.
“Grab hold!” He released Simmons and the man did as directed. Brian grabbed a second branch before plummeting over the edge.
Why had he told the man what to do to save his hide? Simmons was able to sit, and began kicking at Brian’s grip. Then he rolled to the roof joint, crawling over the edge before dropping to the lower side.
Brian caught his breath before following the maniac to the west-side ladder. Simmons was three or four seconds ahead of Brian, dropping to another peanut chute and running along the metal grate. Going up was the only way to get down. Brian didn’t trust his swimming head or shaky hands to climb the pipe on the side of the ladder.
As he took the first step onto the grate, Brian remembered the gun tucked inside his waistband. He pulled and released the safety, but Simmons made it over the edge before he could fire. He dropped to the grate, looking for a shot, pulled the trigger, nothing. Pulled again, but he still couldn’t hit Simmons mixed in with the crisscrossed metal supports.
Again, Brian was just slightly behind. He followed Simmons to the ground and ran as if he was racing from an explosion. Across the uneven dirt, back into the old building, swinging around the bottom of the stairs and each zigzag landing back up to Lindsey. He was within five feet of Simmons.
But seconds behind was all the bastard needed to lean over the rail, tug and then slice the rope.
“Lindsey!”
* * *
LINDSEY HAD PREPARED herself. If she fell, it meant her death. When the monster cut the rope, there was a moment of unadulterated panic. It was going to hurt. Her foot was caught and she’d be lucky if her ankle didn’t snap.
There had been moments like that on a wave. She’d known she was about to wipe out and the eternity clock began ticking. It only took thirty seconds to fall, but you can’t scream underwater. Maybe that was why she was coherent enough to fall and stretch for something to grab with her good arm.
Her fingers grabbed the bottom of the platform where the monster now rolled in a struggle with Brian. She shifted, latching her hand in place where a board was missing. Then she became conscious of the pain in her ankle and screamed.
Hanging and watching the fight as if the men were defying gravity, Lindsey saw them roll and exchange punches. She clung tightly with one hand as the arm of her injured shoulder was useless. Still zip tied together, she couldn’t get a better grip or reposition her good hand.
The psychopath scurried up the stairs, kicking at Brian, who followed. Then Brian fell hard onto the platform. The jolt caused Lindsey’s grip to shake.
“Brian, the gun,” she tried to warn. The weapon that had been tucked at the small of his back fell through the wooden slats. It clanged again and again as it hit metal on its journey to the floor she’d been staring at all afternoon.
Lindsey tried her best not to scream and distract her rescuer. But her foot was working free from her shoe. Once it was, all her weight would be hanging thanks to the loose grip she had on the edge of wood that was already cutting into her hand.
“Brian, I’m slipping.”
The monster laughed as he stood on a step out of Brian’s reach. Attached to his leg was a handgun. He unstrapped it and pointed it at Brian.
“Don’t move, Brian,” the lunatic commanded.
Her heel slid farther from her shoe. “Oh, God, please.”
Brian turned on his side, his hand on hers. “Go ahead and shoot me, Simmons. I’m not going to let her fall.”
“Uh, uh, uh. Not until I say go.”
“If you wanted her dead, you would have killed her when you got here,” Brian spat at him, but his fingers moved closer to her wrists and to the plastic tie.
“All right, hold on to her and pull her up.”
Brian locked his hand on her wrist, her foot moved and she swung side to side in the air. Maybe the pain shooting throughout her body had short-circuited the neurons that needed to fire to scream. Or maybe it was the simple confidence that Brian wouldn’t let her fall.
“You wanted to save her, so save her,” Simmons demanded. “I’ll watch you from here. I would like to inform you that I can officially declare myself the winner of our battle. It’s time to finish this project.”
“He’s a monster.”
“Forget him, Lindsey. Focus on me. Are you okay?”
“Just...peachy,” she said through gritted teeth. “But I might...pass out.”
“Come on, Lindsey. Stay with me.”
Brute strength saved her. She could do nothing other than keep her eyes from completely shutting and passing out. She hung there as Brian lifted her like a free weight and saved her.
Maybe she did pass out for part of it as he pulled and tugged to get her through the rail. Lying on their backs, Brian clasped both her hands in his, bringing them to his chest. She didn’t care how awkward or how much it tugged at the torn shoulder muscles, she needed his touch. Needed to know he was really next to her and she wasn’t facing the rest of this night alone.
“Time to get up, lovebirds.”
“I need a minute,” Brian said, still breathing hard.
“It took you much longer to get here from the hospital, Brian. I’m afraid you got us off schedule.”
“Schedule? You have a schedule to kill us?” she asked. She was too injured to stand and walk anywhere. Brian squeezed her hand.
“I didn’t give you the impression that I’m a planner? Get up.” His voice changed with the last command.
Brian stood, using the rail to help himself, then he helped her sit up.
“I said we’re leaving. Get up, Lindsey.” He kicked her thigh.
Brian turned on the monster, who acted more as though he welcomed another fight. He looked disappointed when Brian backed down.
“She can’t walk on that ankle.” He pulled his T-shirt off. “She has a dislocated shoulder that I’m going to stabilize. Unless you want her screaming in pain walking across Aubrey.”
She’d had no idea they were back in Brian’s hometown. All of the fighting and noise the two men had made and no one had called the police. They were still at the mercy of this madman.
“Cut her cuffs. I can’t stabilize the shoulder with her wrists pressed together.”
“Back up and hook your leg through the rail. I want to make certain you don’t come at me.”
Brian did what he said. The man pulled his knife and cut the plastic between her wrists. He put the knife away and Brian returned to her side.
Brian worked quickly. He didn’t try to put her shoulder back in place. He angled her arm around her waist, ripped his shirt and tied her arm to her torso. He lifted her and took off down the stairs before Simmons realized he needed to keep up.
“Where are we going?” she asked, trying to use her good arm to hold around his neck and not doing a very good job. She rested her head on his shoulder. She was past any level of exhaustion she’d ever faced.
“Trust me, Lindsey,” he whispered, then brushed her lips with his. He turned his head to speak to the monster. “Good question. Simmons, what now?”
“We need your car. Your story needs to come full circle for this town. Their hatred with you began during another accident. This one will validate all their fears.”
She wanted to sleep, rest, not move. Every step jostled a part of her that ached.
“My ride’s inside the firehouse.”
“Convenient.”
Brian had already been heading straight across the parking lot to the fire station. Trust me, Lindsey. He had a plan and he knew who this murderer was. Simmons. There were so many questions she wanted to ask. Brian’s jaw muscles tightened along with all the muscles in his neck. He was either angry or very determined. Probab
ly both.
Whatever Brian had planned, he didn’t seem to like it.
“You’re setting me up to take the fall for the Cook family killings?” Brian asked.
Where was everyone? It was just after dark and they were in the middle of town. She could see shadows of people from the lights behind the drawn curtains. Cars in the driveways. Flowers on the porch.
If she could see all that, what was stopping these neighbors from noticing a fight on a roof or the noise from the shouting? She raised her head, looking at the man Brian called Simmons.
Just a man. Not a monster or devil. A man who could be defeated. She did trust Brian. They would find a way to escape.
“You really are an egotistical psychopath, holding me in a building down the street from the police station and a playground.”
“And if you had called out to any of them, they’d all be dead. Keep that in mind, Lindsey. Just like now.” He pointed the gun at Brian’s head. “You call out. Someone gets curious. Someone else dies.”
“Trust me,” Brian whispered so softly she wondered if she actually heard him speak or if the words were echoing in her head. “Why come here, to town? Why risk being seen instead of going directly to where you’re going to stage this last accident? Why the fight?”
“After our fight in Jeremy’s home, you piqued my curious nature.”
Brian spun to face the madman. “Curious about what?”
“Well, who was the better man, of course.”
“I’m curious. Who are you?” she asked, looking over Brian’s shoulder. She watched his eyes. Wild. Dark. Insane. There was no other explanation for his rash, odd behavior. Then again, was there ever a rational explanation for someone planning multiple murders?
“He didn’t introduce himself? This is Victor D. Simmons, attorney at law.”
“A lawyer who I bet works with people selling property and steals their mineral rights.”
“I was right to assume that the two of you together would be my toughest challenge.”
“My car’s inside the fire station bay.”
“Then we should get inside before we’re seen.”
“You’ll have to open it, my hands are full.” Brian stepped to the side, revealing the door.
Lindsey paid close attention to his brown eyes, wondering if he’d set some sort of trap inside. Simmons must have wondered the same thing. He tipped the gun back and forth like a wagging finger.
“Why don’t you empty your hands and go through first, Brian.”
“Okay.” Brian kept one hand around her waist, letting her slide down his side a little, keeping her high enough that her feet didn’t thump to the ground. He turned the knob and let the door swing open. “Nothing there...except maybe some field mice.”
“Get inside.” Simmons pulled the door shut behind him. “Where’s your vehicle? I thought you said it was here.”
Brian walked across the open floor toward the office, set her on her feet close to the wall and flipped a switch that turned on a row of lights with a high-pitched whine. “I lied.”
“Stop,” Simmons cried out, losing his composure. “We’ve already fought and I proved myself the better man.”
The portion of the man who had screamed at her from the stairwell came into full focus. The man who totally lost it when someone said he was wrong. Brian was using it against him. But that man still had a gun and Brian had nothing but his hands.
Hands that saved lives.
“You see, I don’t agree. You’re not the better man at all, Victor ‘D is for dumbass’ Simmons. I think you’re a coward. You can’t call the peanut-dryer chase a real fight. I’ve had better fights with one of my horses.”
Even in the dim light, she could see Simmons turning red. He was about to explode. Brian kept inching forward. His thumbs were hooked in his jeans and he didn’t look as if he was about to fight with anyone. That casual, withdrawn voice was calming—no matter what antagonizing words were coming from his mouth.
Lindsey held her tongue, but while Simmons’s focus was on Brian, she searched for a weapon. She quickly found the source of the whine.
They weren’t weaponless after all. Brian had turned on the defibrillator.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When John had asked Brian if he could pull the trigger, he’d said yes. In his head and heart he knew if it came down to it, he could. But he’d had a crazy, wild thought while sitting in the police station—he didn’t particularly like explaining himself over and over to the cops.
The empty firehouse reminded him it would be a lot easier to take Simmons alive and let him explain himself. So he’d gone into the abandoned peanut-dryer warehouse thinking he could capture a serial killer who had been at it for half of Brian’s life.
Stupid. He’d stepped right in the middle of it. At least he’d had a backup plan.
Brian might not know a lot about how to extract a target, which was his brother’s world. He did know a lot about what would take a man down without a weapon. And a defibrillator was perfect.
Now all he had to do was get Simmons near the paddles that had begun charging when he’d flipped the lights on. And he had to do it before he realized what the beeping noise behind them indicated.
“Are you a coward, Simmons?” He needed the gun put away, not fired.
“How dare you talk to me that way.” Simmons looked as if he was going to pop a gasket. He was agitated and his gun hand shook. “I have nothing else to prove.”
“Don’t you?” Lindsey asked. “You don’t think I need to know why you were killing my family, but I’m the only one who can judge the real victor of the fight on the staircase. If you hadn’t cut the rope, Brian would have won. So I think you cheated.”
Victor Simmons laughed. His gun wrist went limp when he crossed his arms and relaxed. Brian hadn’t expected that. A different man stood before them.
“Such a valiant effort deserves my appreciation, not my rage. I heard the defibrillator charging next to Lindsey. Did you really think you could manipulate me and shock me?”
Brian saw his chances of disarming Simmons waning. He began to charge when Simmons came to attention, pointing the gun at his chest.
“Far enough, boy. Don’t you think I’m accomplished at the art of killing yet? It’s been twenty years.” He faced Lindsey. “You don’t deserve to know anything. You’re barely a footnote in my manuscript.”
“Manuscript? You’ve written down how you killed my family? You really are a monster.” Lindsey shuddered.
“Nothing personal, my dear. It must have been fate that brought your relative to my office. It began with a mistake. You see, mineral rights automatically sell with a property unless excluded in the contract. I made sure of that, but I didn’t assign them to anyone. Joel Cook thought I was trying to cheat him and wanted my head. We exchanged words. Then blows. Unfortunately, he died. Purely an accident.”
“There was nothing accidental in the other thirteen family members you killed.”
“Oh, there have been more than thirteen.”
One side of his mouth tilted in such a smirk, Brian itched to knock it from his face.
“I can see your anger building. You want to kill me for all the harm I’ve done.”
Brian stretched his hands open, not allowing himself to keep his fingers balled into fists. He opened his palms, as if he was calling a stubborn horse. “That’s not my decision, man.”
“Where’s your car?”
Keeping his back to Simmons, he walked to Lindsey’s side. He didn’t want to lose Lindsey before their relationship really began. This man would kill them both. He stood just in front of the defibrillator. It was charged and ready to go. All it needed was a patient.
In front of his chest, he motioned for Lindsey to grab the paddles and shoc
k him. Simple. His heart would either go into AFib or stop. Either way, it would give her a chance to run. A chance to live.
She shook her head. He gave her a thumbs-up.
“Don’t be stubborn, Brian. It’s time to go,” Simmons said.
Brian ignored him, counting down with his fingers: three, two, one.
He turned, screamed like a Highland warrior and leaped the last six feet before Simmons could pull the trigger. The gun flew from his hand. They both fell to the cement floor and rolled, only stopping because of the engine wheel.
Brian landed on top and got in the first punch. Simmons no longer had a smirk on his face to wipe off. He shoved hard with both hands, and Brian’s shoulder and hand hit the engine. Hard. He thrust the pain aside and threw himself at the murderer.
Lindsey stood ready with the defibrillator paddles. Simmons was scrambling for the gun.
“Not so fast.” Brian jerked on the man’s pants cuffs, skidding him across the cement. He kicked out, keeping Brian a leg length away, then rolled and twisted to his feet.
Brian quickly followed. The man’s eyes were narrow slits; he used the back of his hand to remove the blood dripping from the smirky tilt to his mouth.
“You want a rematch? Come on, boy. I’ll teach you a thing or two.” Simmons gestured for Brian to come at him. Taunting.
Brian normally didn’t respond to taunts. He normally turned the other cheek and walked away because he was the one who always got thrown into lockup. He looked around the dimly lit firehouse. A place where he should have been able to volunteer and save lives.
But he couldn’t volunteer in his hometown, helping the people who should have been his friends.
Because of this man. This man’s plan to systematically kill off Lindsey’s family had destroyed too many things...too many people.
His fingers curled into fists, but his center was ready to do serious battle. Just because he didn’t seek fights didn’t mean he was a pacifist or didn’t know how to fight. He did. He and his twin had fought so much, his mother had enrolled them in tae kwon do.
