“Don’t,” he warned in a low but menacing tone.
While her initial kidnapping and the danger to Nicholas had shocked and chilled her to the bone, Penelope had since had time to stew on the situation, and anger simmered just beneath the surface. How dare these punks put her son in danger? How dare her father be so callous as to sign off on her execution for his own selfish gain?
But watching Reid—a man who’d gone out of his way to help her, a man who’d given years to the Dallas PD to protect and serve...a man she loved—slammed against the wall and held at gunpoint made her see red.
Gritting her teeth, she snarled at Greg, “Get your hands off me.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Shut up.”
“You’ll pay for this. There’s no way you walk away from this free and clear.”
His expression faltered for a split second, then hardened. His grip tightened on her arm, and pain slithered down her arm and to her shoulder. “Shut. The hell. Up.”
“Do as he says, Pen,” Reid said, and stunned at his defeatist suggestion, she angled a look across the room. But the look he gave her was anything but defeated. He might be shoved up to the wall with a gun at his head, but she knew Reid was far from finished with these thugs.
*
“On your knees, rich boy,” the jerk behind Reid growled.
“Bite me,” he returned. No way in hell would he bend to these SOBs. He would spend his last breath fighting to save Pen and Nicholas.
The retort earned him a smack to the side of the head, and Penelope gasped her outrage.
Reid shook off the ear-ringing blow and waited. At any time, an opportunity, a distraction, a split second shift in advantage could come, and he intended to be ready.
Thanks to Pen’s comment about checking on Nicholas, he knew the little boy was in the room down the hall. But that could change if Nicholas woke up and wandered into the living room looking for his mother. The sooner they ended this standoff the better.
From his peripheral view, he registered where his dropped weapon had landed. If he could get free...
“What did my father promise you? How much is he paying you for my murder?” Pen asked, her tone full of hurt and bitterness.
“Sit down, and shut up,” the man holding Pen’s arm grated.
“Pen,” Reid said, her name a warning not to push the man to rash action.
And then an orange blur at the edge of his vision caught his attention. The kitten. He’d almost forgotten the furball Pen had rescued. Not that a kitten could save them from two gunmen bent on killing them.
And then...
Lucky trotted closer to Reid and the gunman. The kitten jumped and latched onto the thug’s leg with twenty razor claws.
“Ow!” The gunman flinched. “What the hell?”
And Reid seized his chance.
With an elbow in the gunman’s gut and a quick twist, he freed himself from the thug’s grip. He wrapped both hands around the man’s gun hand and shoved the weapon into the air. He fought for possession of the handgun, bending the man’s wrist to an unnatural angle. But the man fought on. He seemed to have a countermove for every tactic Reid tried. The man was well trained.
A stinging blow landed on Reid’s jaw, and he stumbled back a step, his vision blurring. Reid regained his balance, lowered his head...and charged.
*
When Greg’s attention shifted to the struggle between Reid and Lenny, Pen acted. Just as Andrew had taught her, she smashed her forehead into Greg’s nose, followed immediately by a hard knee to his groin.
Her guard doubled over, groaning, and she snatched up the stone horse sculpture from the coffee table and swung it down on Greg’s head. He crumpled on the floor. His hand went limp around his gun, and Pen wrested it away.
Spinning toward Reid and Lenny, she aimed the weapon at Lenny and shouted, “Freeze, you bastard!”
But he didn’t freeze. Instead, Lenny made a move for the gun Reid had knocked from his grip.
Penelope fired. Lenny collapsed, and blood bloomed on the man’s shirt. Hearing a grunt and scuffle behind her, she spun back to Greg and fired again.
Greg gave a shout of pain and dropped to the ground, clutching his thigh. He spat invectives that sounded hollow against the ringing in her ears from the gun blasts, the buzz of adrenaline...and the frightened crying of her son from down the hall.
She stood shaking, numb with shock, and stuttered, “N-Nicholas.”
Reid appeared at her side, and he eased the gun from her hands. “Well done.”
She hiccuped a nervous laugh. “T-told you I could shoot.”
He kissed her temple, and hitched his head toward the hall. “Go take care of our boy. I’ll secure these SOBs until backup arrives.”
Chapter 20
An hour later, after Reid and Pen had given preliminary statements to the police, they were allowed to leave the scene to take Nicholas to the emergency room. The three gunmen, in varying states of injury and under guard, were taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital. Pen and Reid opted to go to a different urgent-care center, one where Pen’s pediatrician could meet them and treat her son’s infected ear and ruptured eardrum.
Reid’s cell phone rang as they sped down the highway. He had Pen answer and put it on speakerphone.
“It’s Zane,” his half brother said. “We went to Barrington’s, but we were too late. The staff said he was there long enough to clean out his safe and throw a few things in a suitcase before he took off again. My guess is he’s headed for the airport.”
“Damn it.” Reid thought a moment. “DFW is too public. Too slow. My guess is he’ll have a plane waiting at a private airstrip.”
“Yeah. But which one? There are more than a few of those within 100 miles,” Zane said.
After a bit of discussion, Zane and T.C. were dispatched to different small airports deemed likely candidates, and Reid promised to check a third after dropping Pen and Nicholas at the urgent-care center.