Truman stepped on his hurt knee and the shrieks hurt his eardrums. “Shut up,” he ordered. “Or I’ll silence you myself.”
Broken Nose scooted over to press his back against the other man’s. Truman quickly bound their wrists together behind their backs with the rope from Cade’s hands. It wasn’t a foolproof job, but he figured the knee injuries would slow them down more than anything, and they were too far away for anyone to hear their shouts for help.
“Where’s the police?” Cade asked in a weak voice. He breathed hard through his mouth. The blood on his face looked black, and Truman realized he had one eye swollen shut.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Where’s the police?” Cade repeated.
“It’s just me,” said Truman.
Dear Lord. There’s no one else.
Mercy.
He turned away, stumbling a few steps, and dry heaved in the dark.
If Mercy breathed wrong, the entire room might explode.
Tempers were short and anger hung heavy in the air of the mess hall. Everywhere she looked, fury and impatience were written on the faces of McDonald’s followers. There was also an eagerness, a need to see something dreadful shining in their eyes, reminiscent of the look of rabid fans watching a car race, hoping to see a crash. The tension had escalated as Cade left the room, and now their focus had returned to her.
A situation near boiling. A millimeter away from a trigger pull.
She breathed slowly and evenly, her mind considering and rejecting plans to safely escape.
Owen held up his hands to the audience. “Quiet down!” A hush fell over the crowd, and the abrupt silence did little to calm Mercy’s nerves. Don’t let them see I’m scared.
She briefly met Owen’s gaze before he turned it on Tom McDonald. Something was different about her brother. When McDonald had called on him to defend Cade, there’d been a calm in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. A different attitude. And just now she swore she’d seen a need to stop McDonald in his gaze. Had he finally seen the light?
“Did you just order Cade’s murder?” he hissed at McDonald.
Anger flitted across the large man’s face. “You’re out of line, Kilpatrick.”
They stared at each other as the rapt audience watched, and Mercy worried for her brother’s life. Be careful!
Owen turned to the men. “Is this who you want for a leader? Someone who orders another man to be killed because he thinks he’s a threat? Did we ever hear any concrete evidence against Cade Pruitt?” Conviction rocked his words as he made eye contact with several McDonald men. “That was no trial! That was an injustice. Another murder ordered by a man with too much power.”
Restless murmurs sounded in the crowd.
Mercy saw eyes flicker and nervous feet shuffle.
“Stand down, Kilpatrick!” shouted a voice from the crowd. “We didn’t sign on to follow you. We’re with McDonald! The boy had it coming!”
Several voices chorused in agreement.
“Did Joshua Pence have it coming?” Owen asked.
Heads bobbed in agreement. “He didn’t follow orders,” said a man in the front row. “He could have brought the entire state’s police forces down on our heads.”
“Fucking pigs!” shouted a man from the back.
Mercy winced, feeling the room’s anger refocus on her. She kept her head up, watching Owen and judging the temper of the crowd. They were a hair’s breadth away from erupting.
“Did Jack Howell have it coming?” Owen asked. He pointed at one of the men. “You dealt with the Realtor in the past. Did he deserve to be shot in the head at McDonald’s whim?”
Mercy caught her breath. That’s what happened to the Realtor?
The room went silent, confusion crossing several faces.
McDonald gestured at Owen. “Get him out of here!” McDonald’s face was the dark red of new bricks, and sweat beaded his temples. His chest heaved with each breath. “You’re lying, Kilpatrick!”
A few men stepped forward to follow McDonald’s orders, but hesitated to grab her brother.
“He shot Jack Howell right in front of me,” Owen continued. “And then ordered me to take care of the body. I can see by your faces that you didn’t—”
“Shut up!” McDonald roared. “Howell got sloppy and was about to ruin all our plans.” He looked to the group. “Was I to let one man put asunder all that we’ve worked for?” His face darkened to a deeper shade. “Get Kilpatrick out of here before he does the same thing!”
Determination crossed the faces of the men who’d come forward to handle Owen. Two men grabbed his arms, and another removed her brother’s gun, shoving it in the back of his jeans. “I’m not tearing this group apart,” Owen yelled, attempting to jerk his arms away. “You’re letting McDonald do it for you.” His guards held firm and looked to McDonald for their next orders.
“No! This isn’t right! He could do the same to any of us!” shouted a man Mercy recognized from her first visit to the ranch. “He’s written off Cade and now Owen because they dared to have a different opinion!”
“That’s not what we want in a leader,” argued a second voice. Several men nodded emphatically.
The mob turned on one another, slowly dividing into two groups as they argued. Mercy held her breath, eyeing the high number of weapons on hips.
This could turn ugly very fast.
And then it did.
A man tried to pull away one of Owen’s guards and got a fist in the jaw for his effort. Owen landed a blow on the mouth of his guard and the room erupted. Shoving, hitting, pulling, shouting. Mercy slowly stood and, with her wrists still bound, backed toward a door.
A hand grabbed her arm.
McDonald. His face was no longer red; it was gray, and sweat ran down both sides of his face. He looked ready to vomit.
“I’ll get you out,” he said in an unsteady voice, shocking her with his offer. “This way.” He headed for the same door, towing her behind him. Mercy stumbled, trying to reverse direction.
I’m not going anywhere with him.
He held tight to her arm. “Mercy! This way!”
“Forget it,” she grunted as she tried to jerk out of his grip. Her arm came loose and she planted her feet to regain her balance, planning to kick him in the groin.
An elbow from the brawl behind her nailed her in the back and she lurched forward. Back into McDonald’s grasp.
Noooo!
He grabbed her upper arms and shook them, making her look at him. “Listen to me!”
“Like hell!” She twisted, trying to wrench out of his tight hold.
He swayed and grabbed at his chest with one hand and then fell to a knee, panting for breath, nearly pulling her to the floor. He looked up at her, his eyes terrified and his face radiating pain. Mercy suddenly understood.
“He’s having a heart attack!” she yelled, scanning for anyone who would help. The melee was in full force, and her shout was swallowed up in the sounds of the fighting. McDonald yanked heavily on her arm as he fell completely to the floor, and she was forced to her knees beside him. “He needs CPR!”