Pure gut instinct took over. Fight or flight. Fowler chose fight.
He launched himself across Hugh’s desk, hands outstretched. He heard the click as Hugh tried to shoot, but the gun didn’t fire. An empty chamber or an unloaded weapon?
No time to find out. He grabbed at Hugh’s wrists, trying to shove his hands up.
“Mr. Barrington!” the secretary screeched from the office door.
“Call the cops!” Fowler barked. He blocked Hugh’s arm when he tried to angle the gun in his direction.
An earsplitting blast jarred Fowler. He froze for a split second. The chemical tang of gunpowder filled his nose. A numb ringing muted his hearing. And then he felt the pain.
*
Penelope sat with her back rigid, fear tensing all her muscles. She listened with her heart in her throat as the men discussed their next move.
“I say just take her into the woods and finish ’em both. Leave ’em for the animals to eat.” The man to her left, who had bad teeth and a tattoo of a fist on his neck, gave her an evil grin. “Crows gotta eat same as worms.”
Her stomach rolled at the morbid line she recognized from a Clint Eastwood movie she’d watched with Andrew. No doubt Tattoo Neck thought he was clever, quoting the line.
“Not yet. We still need Colton,” the man in the front seat countered. “Barrington said to use her as bait for Colton, then get rid of them both.”
A shiver chased up her spine hearing her father’s name, having this confirmation that her own father was behind the kidnapping and her impending murder. Rage and hurt seethed in her belly, a toxic brew that left her nauseated and heartsick.
“So then we’re going back to Lenny’s to wait?” the driver asked.
“Hell no! We can’t risk my neighbors hearing anything or seeing her,” Tattoo growled.
“So where do we go with her until we have Colton?” the driver asked.
“Back to Colton’s hideout.” The man with the buzz cut in the front passenger seat tapped the screen of his phone. To the driver, he said, “We picked up the first signal about two miles from here. At the lake.”
Penelope’s heart scampered, but she fought the panic. She had only a few minutes to make a plan. Her only advantage was knowledge of the house layout. How long would it be before Reid showed up? Could she signal him in some way, warn him?
Tattoo jabbed his gun toward Nicholas, who continued crying pitifully. “Shut that kid up, or I’ll pop him now!”
She recoiled, ice sluicing through her as she angled her body to shield her son. “He’s scared! And sick! We were headed to the doctor when you stopped us.”
Tattoo scowled, then jerked his head toward Nicholas. “What’s that on his neck?”
When Penelope cast a glance down at her baby, she spotted a blood-stained fluid dripping from his ear.
*
White-hot pain stole Fowler’s breath. The sonofabitch had shot him! Disbelief and horror rode shotgun to the burning ache that paralyzed him momentarily. When he was finally able to suck in a gurgling breath, he clutch at the hole in his side and lifted his palm to stare numbly at the red staining his hand.
Barrington took advantage of Fowler’s incapacitation, shoving at him to free his legs. And roll away.
Fowler fumbled to grab at Barrington’s pant leg as the lawyer untangled himself and staggered to his feet.
“Stop...him!” he rasped to the secretary, gaping at them from the door.
To which Hugh, waving his weapon, countered, “Out of my way, woman!”
Yelping, the secretary stumbled backward as Barrington plowed through the door.
Fowler struggled to his knees. The burning sensation arcing through his midsection was enough to make his head spin and nausea swirl in his gut.
Was this what it felt like to die? He thought of Tiffany and the life they might not get a chance to build together. But most, he thought of his failure today. He’d handled the situation with Barrington all wrong. He’d flown off the handle, letting his damn impatience and need for vengeance push a dangerous man into a corner. Who did he think he was? He wasn’t a cop like Reid or a trained secret agent like Jake McCord.
He could hear the frantic sobbing voice of Hugh’s secretary on the phone calling an ambulance and asking for police assistance.
Fowler closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He needed to get off the floor. With a groan of agony, he struggled to his knees. He might have blown this encounter, but he could warn Reid about Barrington’s hit men. With a hand slippery from blood, he fumbled his cell phone from the floor where it had fallen in the tussle and tapped the screen, leaving red fingerprints as he dialed.
Reid didn’t answer. Instead, the call went straight to voice mail. “Damn it, Reid!” he groused, then with a labored breath he blurted, “Barrington shot me...and...men have Penelope. Orders to...kill her! Hugh’s...running.”
Then his peripheral vision blurred, and his head felt thick and heavy. He saw a fuzzy image of Hugh’s secretary running toward him...and then the world went black.
*
Pen’s heart seized. She was too late. Nicholas’s eardrum had burst and was seeping the built-up effusion. She gave a whimper of dismay. “Please,” she begged, tears filling her eyes, “his eardrum ruptured. We have to get him to the doctor! He could have hearing loss or a worse infection if a doctor doesn’t—”
“Shut. Up!” Tattoo waved the gun in her face again. “His ear ain’t gonna be a problem once he’s dead!”
Bitter tears pooled in her eyes. “You’re foul. A monster!”
*
“So what are you going to do, now that you know the truth?” Eldridge asked, leveling a defeated stare at Reid.
“I won’t stay quiet, if that’s what you’re asking. Whitney deserves to know you are alive. I won’t be party to your deception. Hell, the whole family has suffered unnecessarily because of this stunt of yours.”