Under the Gun

by HelenKay Dimon

And where was he? She knew she’d inflicted damage. Saw it in the raw pain that flashed in his eyes as she put on the pressure and threw him to the floor.

  But she knew Luke. Recognized the bone-deep stubborn streak that would keep him from giving up. Somehow he would find her.

  “How are you going to pin all these crimes on me if I’m dead?” she asked.

  “That part is taken care of.” Phil tipped his head to the side. “So what will it be?”

  “As far as I’m concerned I’ve done enough for you.”

  “Then torture it is.” Phil’s smile widened. “Perfect.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Luke wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm as he stood on the balcony with his back pressed against the brick wall of the house. From two rooms down he could hear pieces of the conversation, mostly Phil’s end, since he delivered every word as if he was standing on a stage. But Luke got the gist. Claire’s time had just run out.

  He slipped back into the bedroom. Picked up the phone on the nightstand, hoping this one would work where the two others he’d found in the house didn’t. He had tried to dial and only got silence in return. They were as useless as the cell in his pocket. Phil had some sort of jamming device set up on the property. Luke recognized the technology. He was just surprised Phil had thought that far ahead.

  Despite the numbness in his shoulder and the questions spinning in his head, Luke knew he had to move. He would only get one chance to surprise the two gun handlers in the room. Take them out and get Claire to the floor. Then he could go after Phil. No matter how many bullets pumped into him, he knew he could stay on his feet long enough to take Phil out.

  Luke stepped closer to the open doorway. Heard the whack of a hand against a face, Claire’s face, and checked his gun.

  After a silent count of three, he flipped around the corner. “Claire, get down!”

  With gun raised and firing, he hit Phil’s men in the backs of their legs. Each dropped to the floor screaming like the wounded animals they were as he pumped additional rounds into them.

  When the constant banging ended, Luke stood over Claire’s curled form. He reached down to scoop her off the floor. Before he could touch her, she jumped off the carpet and slammed against his chest.

  “You came.” She repeated the mantra over and over again.

  “You’re okay,” he said as he brushed his hand up and down her arm, as if searching for injuries.

  Luke noticed Phil hadn’t moved. But she was alive. For a few wrenching moments he feared she had gotten caught in the cross fire. Then he realized that neither of the other men had gotten off a shot. Even now, one lay still and the other squirmed and moaned, but the end would overtake him soon.

  The jump of surprise had worked.

  Luke used his foot to drag their weapons close. He tried to wrap his arm around Claire, but he had no strength left in his ripped-up shoulder. He settled for bringing her in close to his side, tucking her head against his throat, while he trained his weapon on Phil.

  The anxious jumping in Luke’s chest slowed for the first time since he’d seen Claire across that lobby days ago. He smiled at Phil. “Surprise.”

  Luke strained to understand the mumbled words of apology Claire pressed against his neck, but he couldn’t truly enjoy the moment. Not with Phil just sitting there. The man hadn’t so much as shifted in his chair. He sat with hands folded in front of him and watched the horror scene unfold. He didn’t rush for a weapon or the door, didn’t even shout a warning to his men before Luke’s fury was unleashed.

  Phil finally tipped his head. “Very impressive for a salesman.”

  Claire squeezed Luke’s waist with her arm. She continued to shake. “He thinks you peddle art.”

  “I don’t care what he thinks.” Luke nodded to the phone next to Phil’s hand. “Pick it up.”

  “I would, but the line appears to be dead.”

  So calm. Phil didn’t act like a man whose world had just collapsed. His breathing remained even and his movements fluid.

  Made Luke think the other two of his men were close by. “Get up.”

  “I am fine where I am,” Phil said.

  “Just shoot him,” Claire said, her voice gaining in strength as she found her footing again. She stood up straight and stared at Phil with a look that promised pain and retribution.

  In that moment Luke wanted the other man dead. Punished and destroyed. The temptation to put a bullet in Phil’s head pulled at Luke. He had spent his professional life following the law. This one time, he wanted to break it. He had never craved another man’s agony the way he craved for Phil’s.

  “I said, stand up,” Luke said before he could fire that gun and fundamentally change who he was as a human being.

  “Let’s just grab him and get out of here.” Claire made her plea from right behind him.

  “I intend to.” Luke took two more steps and stopped right in front of the desk.

  Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him. He didn’t sense the trap until it sprang. He turned around in time to see Steve pointing a gun at the back of Claire’s head.

  “Were you expecting me?” Steve asked as he kicked at the men littering the floor.

  Claire jumped at the sound of her former brother-in-law’s voice. She tried to move away, but Steve had her arm and the gun dug into her skin.

  Luke bit back the string of profanity sitting on his tongue. He blinked and they swooped. For a second he let his desire for vengeance overtake his common sense. And Claire was going to pay the price.

  Phil finally stood up. “Lower your gun or she dies.”

  Claire’s eyes grew wide. “Luke, don’t do it.”

  Luke shifted his gaze between the other men. Steve’s hatred for Claire radiated off him in waves. He wanted her gone and he had the will to do it. The dangerous combination made rushing him a poor solution.

  “Do it now, Mr. Hathaway,” Steve said.

  “Do not test me. Just hand it over.” Phil extended his palm.

  Luke knew the cardinal rule: never surrender your weapon. But the battle between heart and head was an easy one, thanks to the gun aimed at Claire.

  Luke turned his gun around and handed it to Phil. “Here.”

  Claire gasped and reached out. “Luke, no!” She stopped when Steve shook her. The hard action made her head bounce as if barely attached to her body.

  Luke took a step in her direction. “Let her go.”

  “You are not in charge here.”

  When Steve pressed the gun harder against her skull, Luke had to block the image from his mind. If he saw the dizzying pain in her eyes or heard her moan again, he would lose it. Snap so hard he’d never return to normal.

  Instead, he decided to test the brotherhood bond. “So, which one of you is in charge?”

  “Me.” Steve motioned toward the desk and shoved Claire in its general direction. “Sign.”

  When her eyes met his, Luke nodded. She walked across the carpet with careful steps, putting more weight on her left than her right. She grabbed the pen Phil offered and signed where he pointed.

  “This is never going to work, you know,” Luke said, concentrating his attention on Phil, whom he considered the weaker of the two.

  Steve answered. “Shut up.”

  “You have a lot of bodies piling up. You think people are going to believe Claire accomplished all that while the cops were on her tail?”

  “That’s why it was so convenient for her to run. Took away what otherwise would have been her security. Made it easy for us to continue to set her up.”

  The pages flipped as Claire signed whatever it was the Samson brothers found so important. “And when the police eventually find us?” she asked.

  “We will be far away from here. Even if the police track the money and ignore the trail we planted to Claire’s door, it won’t matter. We will have everything we need.”

  “All this for money?” Luke asked, knowing the answer was yes.

 
She shrugged. “When a house falls, it falls.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The money is long gone,” Steve said.

  The pieces finally fit. The Samson family wealth was illusory. “You built your empire on the dollars of investors, but the underlying capital had been spent. Now that the cash flow has stopped, you don’t have any money left to pay back the people you owe.”

  Phil folded his arms across his stomach. “You’re quick for a salesman.”

  The enormity of the situation hit Luke. This was all about something as simple as stealing. People dead and Claire ruined all over money. “This is about a pyramid scheme? You guys committed fraud and don’t want to serve any time.”

  “Do you blame us?” Phil asked.

  Luke decided right then that he would never understand the thinking processes of rich people with overdeveloped senses of entitlement. “Why not sell this house or one of the twenty other houses you own?”

  “We’ve taken out all the equity we can without tipping off the authorities. Well, according to the paperwork Claire is signing, she’s the one who did it.”

  When she stopped, Phil shoved her to get her moving again.

  “Claire will be held responsible, but we’ll take the money with us.” Steve brushed aside the curtain and stared out into the backyard. “It is up to the banks to figure out the rest. It will probably take years to sort through it all.”

  “You’re just thieves.” Luke could think of other names to call them, but settled on that one.

  “You have yourself to blame. After all, you provided me with the perfect ending. All I had to do was mention this house and here you came.” Steve shared a hearty laugh with his brother. “It was so easy. I could see the gears grind in your brain as you sat there pretending to drink your coffee.”

  “Why don’t I show you something else I can do?” Luke asked.

  “Stay where you are.” Steve glanced at Claire, then Phil. “Is she done?”

  Phil leaned down to scan the pages. Luke watched as Claire slid the pen down to her palm, grasping it like a weapon.

  Good woman.

  They had seconds only, but somehow she had figured out a way to squeeze them out of the dire situation. He balanced, ready to jump on Steve. The man looked comfortable with a gun, but that didn’t mean he ever left the safety of his desk to shoot one. If his shot went wild, they stood a chance.

  Claire looked around the room one more time before lifting her arm. With a whoosh, her hand slammed down on top of Phil’s. The point of the pen entered the back of his hand. Phil’s hysterical screams followed right after.

  “What did you do?” Steve roared.

  But Luke was already moving. He crashed into Steve using his injured side. There was no time for anything else. As Phil stalked around behind his desk, Luke fell on top of Steve. Their bodies hit the carpet before Luke could brace for the fall.

  Despite his superior physical condition, the mix of the injury and awkward position gave Steve the extra second to step back and only endure a fraction of the knock heading his way. In a smart move Luke didn’t know Steve had in him, he shook off his daze from the fall and kept moving.

  Like everyone else, he went right for the bandage. A beefy hand clamped down on the blood-soaked area. Through gritted teeth, Luke struggled, only stopping when Phil yelled his name. The high-pitched snarl matched the rage in his eyes. Phil held Claire around the neck with the tip of the pen aimed directly at the artery pumping there.

  Luke froze. “Don’t hurt her.”

  “I am going to kill her and make you watch.”

  “It’s okay.” She repeated the words several times until Luke didn’t know if she was convincing him or her.

  “Phil, not yet. Putting a bullet in her now will ruin our plans.” Due to the extra weight around his middle, Steve grabbed on to the chair to get off the floor. But he never relaxed his hold on the gun. If he had, Luke would have been all over him.

  Luke sat on the floor with the dull roar of pain vibrating through every part of his body. He doubted he would ever feel the sweet freedom of a normal moment again.

  But he got what he wanted. One of the guard’s guns was tucked under his thigh. Hiding it would be the problem. Without a jacket and with Claire still in the direct line of fire, he had to be careful.

  Steve pointed the gun at Luke’s head. “You have five seconds to get up.”

  He palmed the weapon, rolling it under his shoe as he made a show of struggling to his feet.

  “Luke, please…” Claire’s voice trailed off as his head rose above the edge of the desk and into her line of vision. When her face turned milk white, he knew he looked bad.

  But inside the fight remained. The left half of his upper body had turned soft and useless, but he had Claire on his side. Together they could get through this. Somehow.

  “It’s time to go.” Steve frowned at Phil. “And clean up that mess.”

  Phil turned his hand and saw the blood dribbling to his wrist. His reaction was immediate. He tightened his hold on Claire’s neck until she gagged and gasped for air.

  “Stop!” Luke yelled the command.

  When he made a move to follow it up with action, the barrel of Steve’s gun pressed into his temple. “No one moves unless I say so,” Steve said.

  The more she fought and the harsher the guttural scratching in her throat became, the wider Phil smiled.

  Steve finally ended his brother’s show of unnecessary macho strength. “We have plans for her that do not include bleeding out in the library.”

  After one more tug, Phil let go. Claire’s hand fell to the desk for balance as ragged coughs shook her body. After a deep inhale, she stood up.

  Her gaze went right to Luke’s. “I’m fine.”

  Phil laughed. “For now.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Phil used a tissue to grab the papers Claire had just signed. Touching the edges, he threw them into a briefcase, then marched her around the desk. As they met up with Luke on the other side, he grimaced.

  She didn’t think she had an ounce of emotion left in her, that it had all been drained away, leaving behind only aches and cuts. But seeing such a strong man brought down sent a new wave of sadness washing through her.

  She rushed to Luke’s side. “What is it?”

  He grabbed his shoulder and bent over, moaning. Before she could comfort him, Phil delivered a blow to Luke’s back. Luke fell to the carpet, sprawling on his stomach, and went still.

  “Luke!” Seeing him crumple like that shredded what was left of her sanity. She bent down to help him back up.

  He could not die like this.

  Phil poked Luke’s side with his shoe. “Get up, Hathaway.”

  “Stop it!” She threw out her hands and tried to put her body between them. “He’s hurt.”

  Steve grabbed her by the elbow and lifted her to her feet. “He’s going to be a dead puddle on the floor if he doesn’t start moving.”

  Luke held up a hand. “I’m fine. I can do it.”

  He rose first to his knees and then the whole way up. When he cradled his shoulder across his stomach and blood oozed through his fingers, she knew he had taken too many blows. The constant pounding and loss of blood had made him woozy. She could see it in his staggering steps. His mouth stretched into a grim line as he tried not to wince.

  She brushed her palm over his back as she swallowed a sob of regret. “Are you okay?”

  “There will be plenty of time for the two of you to say goodbye later.” Phil smiled at the comment, clearly proud he’d come up with it.

  Claire ignored the Samson brothers. She had wiped them out of her life and now she would clear them from her mind. Her only concern was Luke. She stole a few sideways glances at him as Phil ushered them down a long hall with a gun at their backs.

  She regretted every decision of the past week. Heck, of the past two years. She should have stayed and fought for Luke, for them. Having blown up everyt
hing good around her, she should have run and kept on running. Not involved Luke in her mess of a life. She had forced him to do this, to risk his life for her, by following his steps and reappearing in front of him long after he had moved on.

  And now he would die. The crushing pain of that realization slowed her steps.

  “I think you’ll like the work we’ve done here,” Phil said. “Added a few rooms, including a special one we’ve fixed up just for you two.”

  She blocked out the words and concentrated on sending Luke a silent message. She loved him. In the shadow of what once was, she had grown to love him even more. Gone was the fantasy of a perfect, quiet life. She now understood that Luke had offered her more—a lifetime of commitment and fidelity, love and protection. She had pushed it, and him, away.

  Maybe he could no longer say the words or give her every piece of information she needed, but that didn’t matter. She would cherish every precious moment she’d ever had with him. Hold them close until the very end.

  “Stop.” Steve positioned them in front of a locked door. He flicked open the keypad next to the door and punched in a code.

  Only these two brothers would have private rooms in their huge private mansion. She tried to see over Steve’s shoulder what required so much secrecy.

  Phil pulled her back. “That’s close enough.”

  When the wall monitor beeped, Steve shoved the door open and gestured for them to walk inside. Not knowing what lingered over the threshold, she hesitated. But there was nothing all that special about this place except for what was missing. No windows. No chairs. Just a desk in the middle of the room, a safe and walls painted dark brown. It was the most depressing decor she’d ever seen, and it did not match the over-styled look of the rest of the house.

  She glanced at Luke to see his reaction. He stayed huddled over his arm, as if he had lost touch with the horrors of their situation and slipped into a world only he understood. In a way she figured that might be a good thing, because she continued to live right here in reality, dreading every second.

  “What is this place?” she asked as she maneuvered Luke to the table and let him lean against it. He needed to preserve what little energy he had left.