by Tara Thomas
She forced a smile to her lips. “He won’t come, you know.”
The guard snorted. “He’ll show.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Somehow she knew the next few minutes would be instrumental in whether she walked out of the office or not. “We had a huge fight. Believe it or not, it was over divorce papers.”
That statement took the know-it-all grin off his face and for a brief second a look of disbelief took its place. “Divorce papers?”
“Yes,” she replied. “As it turns out, I can follow directions. I was in the process of divorcing him. Except he found the papers this morning and it didn’t go over all that well.”
He was getting ready to say something when a buzz from his back got his attention. He pulled out his phone and smiled as he read the display. “He must not have been that angry. He just left Benedict House and from the GPS we put on his car, it appears he’s headed straight here.”
He waved his gun toward the chair in front of her desk. “Sit down.”
She hesitated. If she said no, it would force his hand. Would he shoot her and maybe people nearby would call the cops at the sound of gunfire? Or should she sit down and think of a way to warn Knox?
“I said: Sit. Down.” Obviously, Tom had grown weary of her taking so long to decide. He aimed the gun at her feet and shot.
Bea yelped as the wooden floor exploded beneath her. Any hope of the sound of gunshots drawing someone’s attention shattered along with the wooden planks. He’d used a silencer.
He grinned at her horror. “Now.”
She stumbled on shaky legs to the chair and sat down.
“Very nice.” He walked toward her, brought a thin rope from out of his pocket and tied her arms to the chair. “Now we sit and wait.”
She wiggled her hands. He’d tied them behind her and while he’d done it tightly, she’d managed to shove the pen up her sleeve before he did so. If she wiggled the right way, she could reach it.
Now was when she should ask him all her questions. Her face must have given her away because he stood at her desk and said, “I’ve been given permission to shoot you if you get too chatty.”
She shut her mouth. Maybe she could learn just as much by listening to him. The fact that he’d said he’d been given permission told her that there was more people involved than just him. It also told her that he wasn’t in charge.
“I’ve enjoyed being close to you.” He walked and stood to where he was right by her side. He wasn’t touching her, but he was definitely in her personal space. “In fact, I might not kill you. I may save you for my boss. I’m not totally sure what he’d do with you, but I have a pretty good idea.” The guy seemed to get off by talking to her. She couldn’t decide if it was a good thing to know what these guys had in store for her or if she’d be better off not knowing.
She shifted her hands, picking at the knot with the pen, and willed Knox to drive slowly. If she had enough time, she thought she might be able to untie it.
“He’s been extremely hard on his women lately. Though from what I’ve heard, it’s not any better if you survive a night in his bed. He’ll just pass you along to the guards or some other employee. They’re even worse than he is.”
No, she definitely didn’t want to hear this. She kept listening for the sound of a car pulling up. The driveway and parking lot were covered in gravel. If Knox drove across either, she would hear. Of course, so would Tom.
The guard got up and walked to the window. While his back was to her, she worked her hands as hard as she could on the rope binding her wrists together. At the merest suggestion in his body language that he was getting ready to turn around, she stopped and held her hands still.
She estimated she needed another ten minutes and she’d have the knot released. How long had it been since he’d told her Knox was on the way? It didn’t take that long to drive from Benedict House to her office. Of course, there was the festival. Even still, she anticipated hearing his car any second. There was no way she’d have the knot undone by the time he arrived.
Tom’s phone buzzed again. He turned his back to her when he answered.
“No” he said to whoever was on the other end while her hands and fingers worked frantically to loosen the knot more.
“The streets were crowded, though,” he said. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who thought it was taking entirely too long for Knox to show up. She decided to take that as a good sign. She had to—the other option was to look at it to mean he’d left Benedict House with no intention of coming by her office and she couldn’t bear to think that.
“You want me to what?” he asked, right as she heard the sound of a car driving over gravel. Of course, he heard it, too, and turned back to the window. Bea would have given anything to be able to look out the window, but from her chair, she only saw sky.
Instead of dwelling on it, she used the time she had while his back was turned to work on the rope some more.
“He’s here,” he finally said as a car door slammed from outside and Tom ended the call.
He turned around and she stopped moving her hands. Almost. If he’d only kept talking a little bit more.
“Looks like you were right after all,” he said. “Your husband didn’t come. Only his older brother.”
Kipling came and not Knox? That didn’t make any sense.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” the guy kept talking. “One dead Benedict is as good as another.”
“Tom,” Kipling said from the front of the building. “Come on out and bring Bea. Game’s up. The police are on their way.”
Tom laughed. “No, thanks. We’ll stay right where we are.”
“Help, Kip!” Bea shouted. “He has a gun.”
“Shut up.” Tom stomped over to her and slapped her face. Tears sprang to her eyes and her cheek throbbed. “Stupid bitch.”
“Bea, I’m coming.” Kipling said.
Tom stood his ground. “Step one foot in here and I’ll shoot her. I swear to God.”
Tom had turned to face the door and with his back to her, she hurried to finish untying her hands. She got them free and focused on not giving away her accomplishment.
“I’ve called the police,” Kipling said from the front of the building. “They’re on their way.”
Tom turned back to the doorway. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll be dead.”
She heard Kipling’s footsteps as he made his way through the office. He wasn’t headed straight to hers like she thought he would. From the way it sounded, he was taking his time and stomping through every room on the way to her back office.
Suddenly, Knox appeared in her peripheral vision and her heart soared with the knowledge that he’d shown up and the hope that she might just make it out of the office alive. She fixed her fingers and wrist, trying to get the blood flowing again.
Tom saw her move. “What are you doing?”
She decided to play dumb.
“Nothing, obviously,” she said. “I’m tied to a chair.”
He took a step toward her. “Don’t get smart with me.” He raised a hand, like he was going to strike her again and she cringed as she waited for the blow to fall.
“Don’t fucking touch her.” Knox appeared in the doorway, holding a pointed gun at Tom’s head.
She gulped at the sight of him holding a gun. It looked so out of place in his hands. She’d always seen him as a businessman, someone who sat behind a desk. To see him with a weapon didn’t make any sense, but the ease with which he carried it seemed to indicate he’d held a gun or two.
Tom didn’t appear to be all that impressed. His weapon wasn’t pointed at either her or Knox, but he hadn’t discarded it, either.
“So you have a gun,” Tom said. “Big deal. I can still shoot her and even if you shoot me, which I don’t think you will, she’ll still be dead.”
“Wrong, asshole.” Kipling appeared from the adjoining office, holding another gun.
Knox didn’t look at her, all his attention was focused
on Tom. “You make one move toward her or if you lift your gun … hell, if I think you’re breathing too heavy, I shoot. Understood?”
Tom seemed to weigh his options. Part of her wanted him to do something to give either brother a reason to shoot him. But she wasn’t sure either Knox or Kipling had ever killed someone and she knew that could leave a lasting imprint. For that reason and that reason only, she hoped this incident ended without bloodshed. If it were anyone else holding the gun at Tom, she’d want them to blow him into a thousand different pieces.
Tom lowered his gun and she sighed in relief, thankful no one was going to die. Kipling and Knox exchanged a look, and Kipling nodded. The slight drop in alertness from both brothers didn’t go unnoticed by Tom. Moving faster than she’d imagined a person of his size could move, he lifted his gun and took aim at her.
“No!” Knox yelled, but she was already out of harm’s way. In one move, she fell from the chair onto the floor, not wanting to think about how close she’d been to not getting herself untied.
She covered her head as the sound of gunfire ran out. Something hard and heavy fell on her, knocking her flat to the ground. She tried to move, but the body on her was too heavy.
“Knox,” she called out, but there was no answer.
Working up strength she didn’t know she had, she pushed herself upward, causing the body on top of her to roll off her and onto the ground. Tom, she noted with some relief.
She looked around frantically and saw Knox on the floor. He wasn’t moving and there was a growing red circle on his left shoulder.
“Knox!” she yelled. She tried to stand up, but the fall from the chair must have injured her leg because it wouldn’t hold her weight. She crawled to him.
“Knox,” she whispered, placing a hand on his chest and bursting into tears when his breathing moved it. His eyes weren’t open, but he was breathing, which meant he wasn’t dead.
“Hang in there. I’ll call for help.” Already she heard sirens approaching. She glanced to her left and saw Kipling on the floor. He groaned and pulled his knees up as if getting up. Satisfied he was okay, she turned her attention back to her husband.
Knox’s eyes fluttered open. “Bea?” he asked softly, causing her to cry more.
She stroked his cheek, knowing she had to touch him and reaching for a spot that wasn’t injured. “Yes. Yes. It’s me and we’re okay. Help is on the way. You just be still and hang in there.”
All at once, his eyes grew murderously cold and a deadly rage settled over his expression. “Knox?” she whispered.
He roared while reaching for her at the same time. She tried to get out of his way, but he grabbed her by the neck and somehow with his injured arm, pulled her so her face pressed against his chest.
Above her, a gunshot rang out and something behind her fell to the floor.
“Got him,” Knox whispered and then promptly passed out, dropping the gun he held in his right hand.
She looked over her shoulder and found Tom, crumpled on the flood with a gunshot to his chest. But it was the knife he held that captured her attention.
The realization of how close he’d been to stabbing her in the back made her shiver and as the tremors took over her body, she wondered if they’d ever stop.
* * *
The Gentleman turned the television off with a curse and slammed the remote control on the table in front of him. How did Tom get killed by the Benedicts?
Unfortunately, this was the next in a long line of fuck-ups. It seemed lately that everything he tried to do, every plan he put in place, someone fucked up.
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he’d grown too complacent with his delegation. Trusted too many people to do the job and to do it correctly. Back when he was the only person running the operation, he didn’t have these issues.
He stood and walked to the window. It was raining. Many people didn’t like the rain. He didn’t mind it. To him it was like the rain washed away all the old and paved the way for something new. That’s what he needed to do. He needed to cut the operation down, trim it, prune it. Get rid of the dead weight.
Hadn’t he learned early on that the only person who was one hundred percent trustworthy was himself? And hadn’t he often preached that if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself?
He’d trusted Jade and she’d run off.
He’d trusted Tom and he’d got himself killed.
No more. From this point onward, he was not only the one making the plans and calling the shots, he was also the one who executed everything. He felt his heart grow lighter the more and more he thought about it.
Perfect. This would be perfect.
Cut out the middleman. They were useless anyway.
He would need time to reorganize, assess, and plan. That was no problem, he could lay low for however long he needed to. He chuckled. It might actually work to his benefit to play it that way. The Benedicts would likely grow complacent. They’d forget he was out there. Which would make their demise all the better.
He couldn’t wait.
CHAPTER 13
Knox woke up in phases, it seemed to him. First, he became aware of the sounds. A steady beep, beep, beep he assumed was his heart. Then came the whispers, and he realized they hadn’t noticed yet that he was awake. He strained, trying to make out the voices, to tell who they were, but they were much too soft. Somewhere nearby someone was pushing a cart. A metal cart down a hard-surfaced floor.
He had no idea where he was. A quick mental check of his body revealed a left shoulder that hurt like nobody’s business. Had he somehow hurt his shoulder? He couldn’t remember.
He searched his brain for some hint as to where he was and what had happened to him. Thought back to the last thing he remembered. The only thing he recalled was a gun and Bea.
Bea!
He struggled to sit up, but found he couldn’t. His eyes flew open in his desperate attempt to find his wife.
“Bea!” he tried to yell, but it came out more like a whisper. He looked around the room, but didn’t see the one face he needed to see above all the others.
Oh God, had he been too late?
He remembered now how his shoulder got hurt. Tom had shot him. He’d kill him. A red seething rage overcame him as he recalled the man standing behind Bea with a knife. Then he remembered the look of shock on her face when he pulled her toward him to get out of the way so he could shoot the guard.
He didn’t have the time to explain what he was doing, he’d just reacted on instinct. Just seconds prior, he was certain he only had the energy to breathe. Seeing Tom’s intent to kill Bea proved him wrong. The thought of what came way too close to happening proved one thing: nothing would ever come between him and his wife again. And he’d always made sure she knew he loved her, so there shouldn’t be a doubt, but he had a feeling he might be going a bit overboard in that regard from here on out.
Tilly and Keaton stood nearby, but he didn’t see Kipling. He hoped his brother was okay. He thought back, trying to remember where he could have been in the room when he shot the guard, but he couldn’t do it.
He looked up to Tilly and Keaton. “Bea?”
Keaton walked over to his side, worry lines etched on his face. “She’s being examined. She refused for a long time, but the shock eventually got to her, and the doctors insisted she be checked out. She still put up a fuss; she wanted to be here when you woke up.”
He felt the tension leave his body. But then a new worry occurred to him. “Is she okay?”
Keaton’s smile assured him as did the pat on his good shoulder. “She’s going be just fine. A little shaken, but that’s to be expected. Seeing you awake and talking will do a world of good, I’m sure.”
“Kipling?” he asked, while silently praying that his brother was okay as well.
“He’s fine,” Keaton assured him. “He just went to the bathroom. He’ll be back in a few minutes.” His jovial expression turned serious and his voice was somber when h
e added, “The guard, however, was dead at the scene.”
He certainly hoped so, but didn’t voice that hope out loud. “I thought he would be. I had to shoot to kill him. He was going after Bea with a knife.” He searched his mind, trying to find any remorse over what he had done. Whenever he started to feel guilty, he pictured the look in the man’s eyes as he stood behind Bea with his knife poised and ready to strike. He shivered, knowing that image would haunt him for a long time.
No, he didn’t feel guilty at all. In fact, if faced with the situation for a second time, he’d take the man down again in a heartbeat. The exact same way.
“Alyssa came by.” Keaton poured him a glass of water. “She’s going to want to talk to you, obviously. The nurses chased her out, but I have a feeling Kipling was getting ready to do the same thing.” He added the last part with a chuckle.
Knox nodded. He knew he would have talk to the police eventually. He would tell them the same thing, that, yes, he shot the man and he’d do it again in a second.
“No, I’m not going home,” he heard from the hallway and smiled. Bea. “I’m going to see my husband. No, you can’t talk me into doing something else.”
The door opened and closed, and none too softly. “I swear,” Bea said. “If one more person tries to get me to go home, I’m going to punch them.”
She walked farther into the room and saw him. Her face lit up and she gasped and ran to the side. “You’re awake. When did that happen? Are you okay? How do you feel?”
She reached her hand out but pulled back quickly as if afraid to touch him. He took her hand instead.
“Let’s see if I can remember all the questions,” he teased. “About five minutes ago. I am now. And much better now that you’re here.”
She dropped her head but not before he saw tears fill her eyes. “You were so silent and still. I was afraid you weren’t going to wake up. That he’d hurt you too badly.” She sniffled.
“No.” He squeezed her hand. “It would take a lot more than that man to keep me down.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Keaton and Tilly slip out of room. Bea held his hand in a death grip and tears were running freely down her cheeks now.
