Dangerous in Charge

by Sidney Bristol

  That brought everyone to a stop. Even Bethany clenched her hands and held her breath for a moment.

  They were not dealing with a man possessed of all is faculties. Whoever he was, he was disturbed, and this ritual was important to him.

  Last year Bethany had to hold the hand of a young woman who’d suffered bullet wounds as a result of being caught between her abusive boyfriend and the police. She’d never been able to recover from her injuries, and her last wish was to die at home in peace.

  This was just like that in a way.

  If Kyle and the others fired, they’d hit the girls.

  If the guys didn’t do something that man would kill them all.

  No matter what happened Megan and Faith were trapped in the middle.

  She glanced to her left where the cart and bag now sat out of the way.

  The bag was unzipped, all his sickening toys sitting there in the daylight.

  Lying on the stage floor was a pair of brass knuckles, a wrench and more zip ties. This was what he did to get off. He took the lives of innocent women in this sick ritual.

  “Talk to me,” Kyle called out after several moments of silence.

  “Go away,” the man yelled.

  “I can’t do that. Those are my friends.”

  “You’re a friend of Mother?”

  Oh sweet delusions.

  He wasn’t all there.

  Bethany rolled to her stomach and army crawled toward the bag. If he had a knife in there, what other things did he have?

  These women were the family Bethany chose. They were the people who’d accepted her and taken her in following her own family’s blindness. She wasn’t going to let them die in front of her, not if there was something she could do about it.

  Kyle continued calling out questions, and the man replied with words and statements that made no sense. There was no clear association between question and answer.

  Bethany reached the bag and dragged herself into a sitting position. Her fingers fumbled with the zipper, not entirely in working order again. She managed to get the bag open the rest of the way and stared down. No part of her wanted to think too much about why there were large, heavy tools inside or what he used them for.

  She pushed aside some of the large, bulky items, looking for a knife. Something with a blade.

  She couldn’t do anything rolling and crawling around the stage like this.

  The light gleamed off a threatening edge.

  Oh sweet Jesus...

  Under the tools was a machete.

  She grabbed the handle and pulled it out. No one paid her any mind. Kyle and the man were too focused on each other. She positioned the blade between her feet, the business side against the thick plastic binding her ankles together. She did her best to ignore whatever it was that stained the metal and began cutting.

  One slice and she could see the plastic give way.

  Megan cried out, or as best she could with the gag in her mouth.

  Bethany had to hurry. She lifted her feet and pressed against the blade, watching the plastic separate.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Kyle called out.

  Hurry...

  The plastic snapped and she fell back, gripping the handle to the blade.

  She was free.

  The gut instinct to run nearly overpowered her will to protect the others.

  Bethany turned.

  The guys were no closer to the stage, but the man now sat with Megan and Faith up against him. A splotch of red on Megan’s throat grew bigger.

  He’d kill them and feel no remorse. Kyle would capture him, but would he take the girls out with him?

  Bethany pushed to her feet. Her limbs ached and tingled. She could barely hold on to the machete handle.

  Her vision narrowed to the man. He’d violated their lives. Their privacy. He’d destroyed the peace they’d struggled so hard to achieve, and for what?

  A murder fantasy?

  Bethany believed in healing people, in taking care of them until it was their time to pass. But not like this. She wasn’t going to stand by while her friends were killed.

  “Mother wants you to put the knife down.” Kyle’s voice was ragged. He had to know these were dire circumstances.

  Everyone’s attention was off her.

  They didn’t care what she did.

  Bethany limped toward the back of the stage.

  Still the man paid her no mind.

  This little, small man had to hurt and kill women to cope with life. He’d made the choice to end dozens of lives, and for what? A fix? An urge? A scratch?

  Not her friends. Not on her watch.

  Bethany stopped a few feet behind the man. He had an arm around either woman, his head pressed to theirs. Bethany’s vision narrowed and she took a step forward, then another. There was no guilt or remorse, only rage. She swung the machete. The flat of the blade cracked against the back of his head. Her fumbling hands couldn’t keep a hold on the weapon. It slipped from her fingers.

  He pitched forward, crying out.

  Bethany’s balance wobbled, and she went to a knee.

  The man whirled, his furious gaze now focused on her.

  For one moment that seemed to stretch on for eternity he stared at her with rage in his eyes.

  Shit.

  She pushed to her feet. He lunged faster than she could move, his hands closing around her neck. She threw herself backward, but he kept coming. She tripped over his feet and fell with him on top of her. His went pressed down on her throat, cutting cut off her airflow and her world faded to black.

  21.

  MONDAY. WASHINGTON State Fairgrounds, Seattle, Washington.

  Kyle’s stomach clenched the moment the light glinted off the blade.

  He’d focused everything on the target and assumed Bethany would know to get clear of the danger. He hadn’t expected her to wade in.

  “I still don’t have a shot,” Felix said from his position on the far right.

  “Don’t shoot,” Kyle managed to get out.

  The blade swung.

  He heard the sick crack of metal on bone and the man’s howl of pain.

  Bethany went down and the man whirled.

  “Go,” Kyle snarled.

  Kyle used the metal railing running along the front of the stage like a ladder then leapt to the stage floor.

  The target had Bethany pinned to the ground while Faith and Megan scrambled blindly to get away.

  Kyle sprinted forward, the rest of his team right behind him.

  Bethany lay on her back, her legs kicking feebly from under her attacker. Kyle’s vision narrowed to that man and the woman who’d quietly stolen his heart.

  He grabbed the man by the shoulders. Kyle used is momentum to fling the smaller man off Bethany and up against the back of the stage. The man yelled and whirled—not toward Kyle. Toward Bethany.

  Kyle snatched the rifle at his side up and shot.

  The man staggered sideways, his hands pressed to his chest.

  He glanced down at his chest then at Kyle as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

  “Down on the ground,” Kyle bellowed.

  The man leaned backward, but the wall wasn’t as close and he slid to the ground. A bit of blood bubbled up between his lips.

  The first shot had winged him. The wound on his arm wasn’t anything more than superficial. The gut wound from firing without aiming was another matter. Dying would be a slow, agonizing experience. And maybe that would be justice of a kind after everything he’d done to women like Bethany and her friends.

  But where was the justice for the others? What about them?

  “Kyle!” Shane bellowed.

  Kyle stared into the wide, fearful eyes of a man not entirely right in the head and knew he had to do something.

  “Isaac, get the girls out of here. Felix, Shane—get me an ambulance.” Kyle took a step toward the man and crouched at his side. “This is over, understand?”

  “Y-
you shot me.” The man was trembling now.

  “And I could have killed you.” Shane glanced up at Shane. “We need to stop the bleeding and get him to a hospital.”

  “Are we sure that’s the best thing to do?” Isaac asked through the comm.

  “Yeah.” Kyle stared down at the small, horrible man. “That’s not who we are.”

  Their team wasn’t out to kill people. It wasn’t what they did, even if wanted this man to feel the kind of overwhelming fear the women had. How many victims’ fear had be gotten drunk off of? How many lives had he snuffed out? And for what? To make him feel better about himself?

  Shane secured the man’s wrists over his head while Kyle pulled his shirt up and assessed the wound.

  “Let me.” Megan knelt on the other side of the man who’d intended to kill her.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Kyle said.

  “Yes, I do.” She stared at him without the slightest waver in her eyes. “I need a shirt. Something to put pressure on the wound.”

  Bethany sat on the floor, her stunned gaze staring at him covered in the man’s blood.

  Kyle had come so close to losing her. She’d always been important to him, but now it was in such a deeper way. He loved her. He fucking loved her and he’d almost lost her.

  “Guys?” Isaac called out.

  “Beth?” Kyle took a step toward her. His hands shaking.

  It was over.

  She was safe.

  “Police! Freeze. All of you, step away,” an all too familiar voice bellowed.

  Roger.

  Kyle closed his eyes. He didn’t have to ask who all of you meant.

  Bethany stared up at him, her gaze dazed, confused, lost. All he wanted to do was gather her up and tell her it was a bad dream.

  Instead, Kyle held his hands up while a half dozen uniformed officers marched on stage, the first two locked onto Kyle. Probably because of the blood.

  “Do what they say,” Kyle said.

  “We need an ambulance over here,” Megan called out.

  “On your knees,” a young man barely old enough to shave said to Kyle.

  “Christ, is this really necessary, Roger?” Kyle held up his hands and went to his knees.

  Roger stood over the downed man cursing a blue streak.

  Of course this was necessary. Roger wanted to be the one who took the Triple Threat Killer down, and that meant anyone in his way got scooped up, too.

  “Down on your stomach,” the young officer said.

  Kyle lowered himself to the ground but couldn’t help glancing at Bethany’s shocked face.

  Another officer took Kyle’s handgun and the rifle while the first began the Mirandization spiel.

  “What are you doing?” Bethany came out of her daze and shoved the young officer’s shoulder.

  “It’s okay, Beth,” Kyle said as calmly as he could. “Beth? Just go where they tell you to, okay?”

  “This is bullshit,” Isaac whispered through the headsets.

  “It’s a pissing contest,” Kyle replied.

  He watched an officer guide Bethany off stage. Two more got Faith and Megan released. Soon it was just the cops, Kyle’s team and the killer alone.

  A pair of shiny loafers strolled across Kyle’s vision. He turned his head and peered up at Detective Blew.

  “How far away are the news crews?” Kyle asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Roger shrugged.

  “Bullshit.”

  The man was likely wearing his most expensive suit, so he’d look his best on TV. Today was the culmination of a lifetime of work on one case. And the man was willing to close this one at the cost of lives and people.

  “You going to make it look like I was the killer because your other guy’s all shot up?” Kyle wouldn’t put it past Roger to intentionally cause confusion.

  “I wouldn’t correct anyone if that was what they chose to believe,” Roger said.

  A new voice whispered in Kyle’s ear. “Zain here. Patched into your comms at just the right moment, I see. I’ve got this covered. Sit tight.”

  Kyle bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

  Detective Blew might have just closed the case of a lifetime, but he’d picked the wrong person to piss off. Zain played the corporate suit well, but under all that? He was trouble. There was no stone in Roger Blew’s life Zain couldn’t turn over. He was going to regret today as much as he took pride in it.

  A few moments later Roger’s phone rang.

  “The gates should be open. Drive straight back. What—” Roger turned away from Kyle, sputtering.

  “Let me guess, that’s my boss?” Kyle asked. “Save yourself the embarrassment and let my team go. Have fun playing hero.”

  Kyle turned his neck, trying his best to see off stage where Bethany had gone.

  “Get them out of here,” Roger snarled.

  The cops sputtered a moment before Roger bellowed the order again.

  Zain must have discovered some interesting bits about their least favorite detective.

  The officers removed Kyle’s handcuffs, but did not return their weapons.

  That was fine. Equipment could be picked back up later. What Kyle was most concerned about was Bethany and the others safety—and privacy.

  BETHANY COULDN’T SHAKE the feeling that something was wrong.

  The cops wouldn’t meet her gaze. Everyone was busy doing nothing.

  “Where’s Kyle? Where are the Aegis Group guys? What are you doing with them?” she asked the cops.

  “This way, ma’am.” The young officer guided her to an ambulance where Megan and Faith sat.

  Bethany stopped next to the bumper. No sooner had she blinked than the officer was gone.

  “Does this feel weird to anyone else?” She turned and peered around at the other cop cars.

  “It’s not just you,” Faith said.

  “The paramedic put a Band-Aid on me and disappeared. He’s not anyone I recognize.” Megan glanced sideways at them. “This is a set up. They staged us like this.”

  “Staged us? For what?” Bethany asked.

  “How can they do shit like this?” Faith’s voice cracked, and she swiped at her cheeks.

  “Because some people don’t have hearts.” Megan’s tone was flat, lifeless. How many times had she been staged?

  “We’re alive,” Bethany said.

  That was what she wanted to focus on.

  A processional of vans led by two SUVs crept toward the back of the theater.

  Bethany’s stomach knotted up.

  She was alive.

  That was what mattered.

  The vans came to a stop and like an ant hill that’d been kicked people poured out. Cameras and lights were aimed their way and suddenly Bethany got it. This was what the detective wanted, to be seen as a hero.

  The SUVs stopped closer to the ambulance.

  Bethany swallowed.

  What else?

  She didn’t think she wanted to know.

  The doors of the first one were flung open and Anthony, followed by her parents, spilled out of the back seat.

  Mr. and Mrs. Hunt were more dignified in their exit of the first SUV.

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Megan groaned.

  Faith stood and backed into Bethany.

  “I don’t see him,” Bethany whispered.

  The front door of the SUV that’d driven Bethany’s family swung open and one, last figure got out.

  Shit.

  Bethany clutched Faith to her.

  Anthony reached them first. His smile was wide and bright. The added weight had given him dimples. He’d recently had a haircut. Because he’d realized this moment might happen?

  “Beth,” he said.

  She shuddered at the sound of her name on his lips

  “Don’t. Don’t come any closer,” she said.

  “It’s okay. Everything’s fine now,” he said.

  “Bethany?” Her mother s
topped a few feet away, tears in her eyes.

  It’d been years since Bethany had last seen Mom. That day, Bethany had sat in the kitchen telling her family that she was afraid of Anthony and they’d told her she was being silly. They hadn’t believed her because to the world, Anthony put on this charming face. It was in private where his words cut her deep.

  The little girl inside Bethany wanted to rush to her parents and hug them tight, but they weren’t on her side. They’d chosen Anthony. Hell, they still let him live with them.

  “After all this time, we’re going to take you home, sweetheart.” Mom held out her hands.

  “No,” Bethany snapped and clung tighter to Faith.

  “It’s okay, Beth.” Anthony held up his hands.

  “You don’t get to call me that.” Bethany’s vision hazed. This man had stolen her family from her, sent her running away from everything she knew. But she was stronger now.

  “Easy. Easy,” Anthony chanted.

  Faith squeezed Bethany tighter.

  She glanced beyond her parents at Faith’s husband standing in the back like a dark rain cloud.

  Bethany darted a look to her left at Megan sitting on the bumper, her parents stroking her and posing her like some sort of doll.

  The cops weren’t coming to their rescue. They’d created this nightmare scenario for them.

  Behind it all, the journalists sent up a cheer.

  Bethany glanced at the back of the theater where Detective Blew stood with their kidnapper and intended killer. He even waved as he paraded the man down the stairs.

  “Back up.” A tall man with broad shoulders stepped between Bethany and her family, blocking their view.

  Bethany’s throat closed up.

  Kyle.

  Yet again he’d come to their rescue.

  She reached forward and wrapped her arm around his waist. Even Faith stood close to him as though his shadow could protect them.

  “Excuse me, that’s our daughter,” Bethany’s dad said.

  “She is, and she doesn’t want to see you. Any of you. Same goes for Faith.” Kyle’s voice vibrated. He was angry.

  “Bethany? Faith?” Felix tapped them on the shoulder. “Come this way, okay?”

  “Megan—” she glanced at their third roommate only to see Isaac intervening there, too.

  “I want to see my daughter. You can’t keep my daughter from me,” Mom said.