"Good. Now I want you to get your mom's cell phone and your cell phone and bring them to me. Do it right now. And don't be tempted to call anyone." He gestured toward Nic with the gun. "Or else."
Makayla took one quick look at Nic and then scurried to her mother's bedroom. He must have cut the phone line, Nic thought. Otherwise he wouldn't risk letting her out of his sight. She wondered if Makayla might still chance trying to call when she was in the bedroom, out of sight. And what Miller would do if he caught her. She didn't pray anymore, didn't believe in God, but she sent up a silent plea. Just one word. Please.
The Donny Miller who had raped her had been a coward who needed a drug and the urgings of a buddy to commit his crimes. But ten years in prison was guaranteed to change someone. And not in a good way.
The second Makayla left the room, Miller was at Nic's side in two quick strides. He put one arm loosely around her shoulders and with the other pressed the gun against her temple. She could feel every hair on her skin. Could feel where the bullet would enter her temporal lobe. Could imagine Tony Sardella looking down at her body on the autopsy table as he switched on the circular saw.
Nic did not move.
Makayla came back in with Nic's phone and then took her own cell from her back pocket. She held them out toward Miller. Her eyes were so big they seemed to fill up her face.
"That's my good girl." He offered her another dead smile, which made everything seem worse. "Now, turn them off and take out the batteries."
Makayla did as he ordered, her hands trembling. After he instructed her to drop the phones on the floor, he crushed them with his heavy boots, the barrel of the gun digging into the thin skin of Nic's temple as he stomped.
"Now bring me something I can tie your mom up with. Scarves, belts, something like that. I need a lot."
As soon as Makayla scurried out of the room for the second time, Nic tried to look at Miller, but all she could see was the black barrel of the gun. "If you touch a hair on her head, I'll make you beg to die."
"What do you think I am? She's my daughter. Mine. Whether you admit it or not. But don't worry. I'll be merciful to you, as long as you don't do anything stupid. You are the mother of my child, after all."
She realized that whatever Miller knew, he did not know what she did for a living now. He might still think she was a waitress. He probably didn't know that she wouldn't hesitate to kill him. And that she could, if only she didn't have a gun pressed against her head.
"What are you going to do to us?" she said in an even voice.
"I just want to make up for lost time, that's all. Don't worry. I won't hurt her. I would never hurt her." He didn't say anything about his plans for Nic.
Makayla came out of Nic's bedroom. A bundle of scarves and belts filled her arms. She dropped them at Miller's feet. Automatically, he started to lean over to pick them up.
And then Nic saw what else was in her daughter's hands. Nic's Glock. Makayla must have seen Nic key in the combination to the gun safe enough times that she had memorized the numbers.
Her daughter raised the gun, holding it out in front of her with two shaking hands.
Nic threw herself sideways, not to protect Miller, but to knock him off balance so that he couldn't shoot Makayla.
Time slowed down. Makayla's index finger curled on the trigger and pulled it back.
Boom! A bullet tore into the ceiling. Nic's concentration was so fierce that she barely registered the sound. White plaster sifted down on them.
Makayla stumbled backward, still holding the gun. Nic's vision narrowed. All she could see was Miller's gun, which he was now raising to point at Makayla.
Nic spun toward him, her raised elbow slashing through the air. It connected with Miller's left eyebrow, and suddenly blood was sheeting down his face. Swinging her right leg back, Nic arched her back and snapped her leg out from the hip, delivering a high round kick to his wrist.
The gun flew away. She heard it slide along the hardwood floor, but she knew they weren't safe. Not yet.
Nic grabbed Miller's shoulders and delivered a knee strike to his solar plexus. A deep part of her thrilled at the sound of the grunt as all the air left his lungs. She moved her hands to the back of his neck and pulled his head onto her knee, skipping in place as she drove first her left knee and then her right into his face, unloading them against his nose and cheeks. She heard the soft and splintery sound of bones cracking.
And then Miller fell to his knees, wailing and spitting blood, and Makayla slipped Nic's gun into her hand.
Chapter 39
Bridgetown Medical Specialists