“Get safe, Justice.”
“I have to get it to him,” I finished, pulling out my keys.
I dropped the phone from my ear, dimly hearing Chace call my name. I focused, not about to waste time like I did, freaked out when I was strangled, dropping keys, chasing them around.
I found the key to my house, a master that opened all the locks, and slid it in. I unlocked it, pulled it open and rushed inside.
I tossed my phone to the bed. Pulled the strap of my purse over my shoulder, threw it that way too and darted to Deke’s side of the bed.
I yanked open the drawer to his nightstand, where he kept his gun at the back.
Always close.
Just in case anything threatened his gypsy.
I nabbed it and pulled it out, hearing sinister murmurings in the other room.
I sprinted first to the panic button, not that I didn’t think Chace didn’t have cruisers heading our way about ten seconds after he lost me, just to make sure they knew the situation continued to be critical.
Then I sprinted to the bedroom door and stopped on the wet heel of my boot, sliding a few inches, halting with my hand thrown out to catch the jamb, taking time to pull my shit together.
One breath.
Two.
Get the gun to Deke.
They were armed. He was not.
That was what I had to do.
Get the gun to Deke.
I shoved the gun in my back waistband and bent, tugging off my boots as quickly but as carefully as I could so I didn’t make any noise doing it.
When they were off, I grabbed the gun and slid out on my stocking feet, moving surely but cautiously. I didn’t have a plan. There was no light coming from the great room but moonlight. Maybe I could use shadows. I knew where the rugs were, muffle my footfalls, the furniture, crouch behind it, find my way to Deke, get him his gun.
Or use it if needed.
As the case may be.
Time.
Just time.
That’s all we needed.
The cops would be there soon. They were probably halfway there already.
We just needed time.
My heart racing, I walked into the hall, through the doorway to the great room. Hunkering in a shadow, I stopped dead.
The moon on the snow coming in my window illuminated the scene.
Boxes on the floor, the headstocks and necks of guitars sticking out the top.
A bundle on the floor, halfway from collection room to front door, a human one, not moving.
And my fucking cousin Rudy, standing inside the doors to where now only half of my dad’s collection still stood displayed.
He had a gun aimed at Deke.
And then there was Deke, not far from the human bundle on the floor.
And even in the moonlight, I saw the red stain of blood marring the right upper chest of his white tee.
“Down, man, on your stomach,” Rudy ordered, his voice thin, strained, weak.
The same could be said for his body.
He was strung out.
Wasted.
Half a man, reduced to that through addiction.
Thoughts quickly chased their way through my head.
The last time I saw him, he didn’t look as bad, but I knew by his eyes that he was gone. Lost to that world. Lost to his need.
The last time I talked to him, the last four times, actually, all phone calls, asking me for money, eventually begging for it.
The last time I was there when his name was uttered around my Aunt Tammy, the grief in her eyes, like he was already dead.
My cousin Rudy.
Here to steal. Steal from me. Take a Lonesome legacy so he could smoke it, inject it, whatever the fuck he did to feed his need.
Here to steal.
Steal my father from me.
“Like I said, I’m not lettin’ you take that from her, bud,” Deke returned.
At that, I knew. I knew why Deke looked into my house and didn’t take us right back to his truck, get away, call the cops.
He saw they were taking my dad from me.
So he pushed me to safety and he went in.
God.
Deke.
“Just get on your fuckin’ stomach!” Rudy suddenly shrieked.
I shoved the gun up under my jacket and in the back waistband of my jeans.
“Rudy,” I called softly, lifting up from my crouch and moving into the room carefully.
Rudy’s attention, and the barrel of his gun, swung to me.
Having a gun pointed at me sent surges of adrenaline screaming through me and it did not feel good.
“Jussy,” he whispered.
“Justice, get in the safe room,” Deke growled. “Now.”
Rudy swung the gun back to Deke because he’d started moving toward me.
Having the gun aimed at Deke felt worse.
Deke stopped.
“Rudy,” I called again, wanting his attention on me.
He was fucked up, wasted by a life he shouldn’t have lived, brought low not realizing when the time was right to give up the dream and try for a new one.
But he’d never hurt me.
Steal from me, sure.
But we were Lonesomes.
We got it.
We were family.
No way he’d hurt me.
“Jussy, goddammit,” Deke bit off.
“How’d you get in, honey?” I asked Rudy.
“Not hard, Jus, code was your dad’s birthday,” he said.