He didn’t hesitate or try to reason things out. He just ran like hell back to the patio, grabbed a chair and smashed it through the sliding glass door. Following the chair, he dove into the room in a hailstorm of glass and thunder.
First thing he saw was Nate lying in a pool of blood. He bolted over the body and tackled Carlisle from behind. The SOB started to buck and Charlie climbed him like a bronco bull, locked onto his gun hand and yanked with all his might. When that didn’t work, he dug his nails into the underside of Carlisle’s wrist. Carlisle yelped, and his pistol spun across the floor like a hockey puck.
Anna raced for Bobby while Charlie rode the adrenaline-fueled bull, doing his damnedest to steer him away from the women. Charlie’s arms ached from the tight chokehold he had on Carlisle, but not so much that he had any intention of letting go. He’d ride this motherfucker all night if he had to.
Carlisle tried a spin, like you see on those wrestling shows, and Charlie started to see spots. But he didn’t mind, because he also saw Anna handing Bobby off to Simone.
“Run!” he yelled at the women.
Simone fled with Bobby in her arms, and an enraged Carlisle reared up. Charlie held on.
Carlisle stuck out one foot, trying to trap Nate’s gun and drag it back to him.
Charlie kneed his bull hard in the sides. He was a flat-out rodeo champion tonight.
Carlisle reared again, and this time Charlie flew backward and landed on his tail. Before he could scramble to his feet, Carlisle grabbed Nate’s gun and pointed it at him. The barrel of that pistol was the deepest darkest hole he’d ever looked down.
His heartbeat sounded like it was coming out of stereo speakers, and his breath stormed through his body like a hurricane. His life didn’t pass before his eyes like he’d always believed it would, but time did give him one last gift. It slowed down long enough for him to glance up at Anna’s sweet face.
Sweet Jesus.
Anna had a gun.
She hovered beside him, facing off with Carlisle. “Drop it, asshole.”
Carlisle snarled.
Anna snapped her wrist, and the thunder of a gunshot braided in the air with a burst of light and the stench of burnt powder, confusing his senses.
Carlisle fell backward, and the hole in his forehead left absolutely no doubt that he would never hurt his family again.
Thursday Evening
CHARLIE REACHED INSIDE the crate and picked out a choice specimen: soft—but not too soft, plump, and luscious with a gentle hint of fuzz that playfully tickled his nose when he tested its sweet, fresh aroma. Yes sir, this was one grade-A-perfect Tangleheart peach all right.
They’d just learned that after a rocky night, Nate was expected to make a full recovery. With Simone’s mom delayed in Phoenix and not expected to arrive until tomorrow morning, he and Anna would watch over Simone and Bobby at the farm again tonight.
“I’ve got something for you.” He offered his hand-selected peach to Anna.
“No thanks.” Anna shook her head, and a swarm of blinking fireflies went wild, jiving around her face, and then hovering above the crown of her head like an electric tiara.
Her gaze was distant and unfocused, and he had no idea where he stood with her. The night air hung hot and still around them as if it, too, were in a state of limbo. He snuggled the fruit back in the crate and reached for her hand. Maybe he shouldn’t have led with the peach.
“Simone okay?”
“She’s scared Nate will come after her again.” Even with the balmy comfort of a small-town Texas night wrapped around her, Anna shivered.
He wished he could make it all go away—make Anna and Simone feel safe again. But there was no running from the truth. Nate Carlisle was a cold-blooded killer, and the only way to keep his wife and child safe was to make sure he went to prison for the rest of his days. “I’m sure the DA will move fast on this one—just as soon as Nate’s able to stand trial.”
“He tracked Simone to the lake house by her phone, you know.”
“I kinda figured.” He traced his thumb along the silken underside of Anna’s forearm. They’d talked of little else apart from Nate and Simone for the past forty-eight hours, but right now, with Anna sitting mere inches away from him, with the smell of her skin calling up a near holographic memory of her body moving beneath him, the future of a different couple was weighing heavily on his heart.
“Nate lied to us when he said Simone left her phone behind.” Anna’s chin dropped to her chest, and the fireflies momentarily scattered.
Gently, he tucked his index finger between her chin and her chest and nudged her face up until her eyes met his. “Nate lied about a lot of things, but I don’t want to talk about him anymore tonight if that’s okay. I don’t want to allow him to steal one more moment of happiness away from us.”