Thorne was staring out the window, his normally dark skin gone gray.
‘No, he’s not all right, but I’ll get him safely to you.’ She checked the side mirror. JD had stopped behind them, but he hadn’t approached yet, which she’d expected him to do. Instead he was sitting gazing straight ahead. ‘What else has happened, Jamie?’
‘Stevie was shot at again. She’s okay, but the bullet grazed her arm. It was her cane arm and she lost her balance and went down. No more bullets were fired, even though she was a sitting duck at that point. She said the shooter was either incredibly skilled or incredibly clumsy.’
Thorne had grown deathly pale. Gwyn unsnapped her seat belt and twisted to her knees, reaching for his chin. ‘Thorne. Thorne!’
He stared down at her, devastated anew. ‘He’s taking it all apart. Piece by piece. My family, my friends, the club, the firm. Phil. Stevie.’ He seemed to age before her eyes. ‘You.’ He pushed her from her knees back to sitting, then kept pushing until she lay sideways, her head on the console. All the while his hands were gentle, but shaking. She allowed it, allowed him to get her out of view of the windows, not reminding him that Joseph’s SUV was nearly bulletproof because she didn’t think he would even hear her words.
‘I’m okay, Thorne,’ she said instead, keeping her voice calm. ‘Stevie’s okay. Phil is okay. We are all okay.’
‘He could be out there. Anywhere. I should have shipped you off somewhere safe. Why didn’t I send you somewhere safe? Why didn’t I . . . I should have . . .’ His voice broke. ‘But it wouldn’t have helped,’ he whispered, sounding so damn vulnerable.
Fear skittered through her. This wasn’t Thorne. This wasn’t her Thorne. ‘What wouldn’t have helped?’ she asked quietly.
‘Thorne.’ Jamie’s voice cracked through the phone, filled with the same fear.
But Thorne didn’t answer. Gwyn grabbed a handful of his tie and yanked with all her strength. She tipped her head up, fixing her gaze on him. ‘What wouldn’t have helped? Offering yourself?’ she demanded when he continued to say nothing.
He nodded. ‘He doesn’t want me to die. He doesn’t want me to physically suffer. He knows this is worse.’ He swallowed. ‘So much worse.’
She tugged his tie, bringing him closer until his face was inches from hers. ‘We aren’t going to let him win.’ She glanced at the phone. ‘Right, Jamie?’
‘Right,’ Jamie said grimly. ‘Meet me at Clay and Stevie’s. We’ll figure out what to do.’
As soon as she ended the call, JD’s face appeared at the window, looking even more haggard than Thorne. New fear grabbed her throat, because JD was pale and shaking. Lucy. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No, no, no.’
JD tapped on the window and Thorne seemed to wilt, his whole body shaking now as he popped the lock and opened his door. JD gripped the frame, his shoulders sagging.
‘She’s alive,’ JD rasped. ‘Lucy. And the kids. But our house is on fire. She got them out in time. They’re okay.’
Thorne turned in his seat, facing JD. ‘I’m . . .’ He didn’t say the word ‘sorry’. He just grabbed JD and pulled him into an embrace, taking the other man’s weight and holding him as he shook. Gwyn slid over the console, draping her body over Thorne’s back and holding them both. They clung that way until JD got hold of himself and pulled away, wiping at his wet cheeks.
‘Oh God,’ JD murmured. ‘This sucks.’
Gwyn snorted a surprised laugh, wiping away her own tears. ‘Yeah, it does. Where is Lucy now?’
‘On her way to the airport with Joseph,’ JD said.
‘Airport?’ she asked cautiously. ‘That was fast.’
‘Yeah.’ JD’s lips twisted. ‘She kept her head. Called Joseph first because she knew that once she called me, she’d have to stay on the phone to keep me from losing my shit. Joseph picked her and the kids up and took them straight to Martin State.’
The small airport served private jets, Gwyn knew. A few of the higher-priced bands that had played Sheidalin had flown into Martin State. ‘Does Joseph have his own plane?’ Joseph was rich, but she didn’t know he was that rich.
‘His father does. Joseph’s sent cars for Paige and Stevie too, to take them to the airport.’
‘And Julie?’ Gwyn asked, thinking of Frederick.
JD nodded, still shaky. ‘Yes. She’s still at Stevie’s. Joseph was pissed off at me for not telling him about the plan to drive them all to Chicago. He’s taking them there himself. He insists flying is safer.’ He ran his hands through his hair. ‘I need to get to the airport. I need to see them before they go.’
Gwyn took a long look at Thorne. Giving JD comfort had seemed to bring him back from his own abyss. The haunted look was gone, replaced with the grim determination she’d come to rely on. ‘JD isn’t safe to drive,’ she murmured.
‘But I am. You take JD. I’ll follow.’ He kissed her, hard and fast. ‘I’ve got your back.’
‘I know you do.’
Annapolis, Maryland,
Wednesday 15 June, 4.40 P.M.
He rewound the video and played it again, smiling as he thought of the way the former homicide detective had gone down with just one small bullet graze. His body camera had caught it all, so beautifully it was as if he’d hired a movie director. Stevie Mazzetti-Maynard had hit the ground without so much as a yelp, though, and for that he reluctantly admired her.
When she’d realized what had happened, she’d been more pissed off than hurt or even afraid. By the time she’d crawled across the pavement to get her cell phone, then crawled closer to the big black SUV she’d been driving, he’d had his rifle disassembled and in its case. By the time she’d called the police, he was in his own vehicle.
And by the time sirens could be heard, he was driving the other way.
He wished he could see Thorne’s face when he learned of the latest shooting. The last time, he’d trusted Patton with the job, because he was to have intentionally missed, which Patton had done. This time, though, it had required a little more finesse. He didn’t want to kill Stevie Mazzetti-Maynard. He just wanted Thorne to know that he could. He’d hit her just enough to cause pain, but not enough to cause serious injury.
And he could do it at any time to any of them. And he would. Tomorrow they were planning to leave. At least some of them. The most vulnerable. They were sending their women and children away in vans. Driving them to ‘safety’.
He didn’t plan to kill them. Not yet. But he would show them that they couldn’t escape him. Though if after he shot at their tires they crashed into a tree and suffered all kinds of injuries . . . that would be just fine.
He hoped they planned to properly secure the children in car seats.
He paused the video at the sound of a light knock on his office door. ‘Come in.’
Margo stuck her head in. She did not look happy. In fact, she appeared nervous. ‘Hi, Papa.’
He waved her in and pointed to the chair. ‘Is it Benny?’
‘No, he’s fine. Just teething and drooling.’ She glanced down at her blouse. ‘I changed twice before I left the house this morning.’ Squaring her shoulders, she folded her hands in her lap. ‘I have bad news for you. They’ve already gone.’
He froze. ‘Who?’
‘The women and children. They were flown out by private plane. About an hour ago.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You knew nothing of this?’
She moistened her lips. ‘No. I didn’t make any of the reservations. It was handled by the FBI. The shot you fired on the ex-cop this morning, followed by Patton’s arson at the Fitzpatrick home, prompted them to fast action.’
Rage flared within him, but he put it aside. They were protecting their most vulnerable. ‘Where will they go?’
‘I’m trying to get my hands on the flight plans. I can tell you that the plane is owned by Agent Joseph Carter’s father. The Carter family owns several pieces of property all over the country as well as abroad. I assume they’d go to one of those places.’