The shadowy figure of the woman passed in front of the kitchen.
Hayley? He unzipped his dive boots and took them off to decrease any noise he might make. He pulled out his .45 and skulked toward the figure he’d seen. He watched her go up the first flight of stairs. He counted to ten and then followed. He stopped on the landing and darted into the hallway that led to the second-floor bedrooms. He’d barely attained cover before the fit young black woman turned on the staircase and studied the space he’d occupied seconds before. She continued to the third floor.
Not Hayley.
But it appeared Logan had at least one bodyguard on site.
He waited in the shadows, thinking about his next step. Was the bodyguard securing Hayley in the room? Or would she take Hayley somewhere safer?
At the sound of the door creaking open, his pulse jumped.
The bodyguard crept down the stairs and behind her, the woman who could ruin his life. He fell back deeper into the darkness of the narrow hallway. He waited until he saw the black woman stopped on the landing to do a perimeter check. As her head swiveled toward the hallway, he held his breath.
He didn’t know if he’d inadvertently given himself away or if she was just being thorough, but she raised the gun and moved toward his location. Fuck this. He lifted the .45 and squeezed the trigger. The flash of the gun firing gave him a second’s view of the woman’s shocked expression.
The bullet slammed into her, and she flew backward, managing to fire her gun once before she tumbled down the stairs. The thud onto the floor below confirmed she was a goner. Unfortunately, her bullet grazed his shoulder. The impact made him stagger.
He heard Hayley’s feet hit the stairs and the slam of a door. Gritting as his arm started to throb, Santos pushed away from the wall and followed his prey.
When Logan woke, confusion reigned. It took a moment to figure out where he was. His head hurt like a bitch.
What the hell was he doing on the floor of the shed? He slowly sat up, touching the back of his skull. Ow. The flashlight’s beam pointed at the wall. He reached over and picked it up. The light glinted off the huge wrench. Then the beam caught his fingers, and he saw his own blood smeared on his hand.
Realization dawned. Hayley! Cold terror shuddered through him. He rolled to his feet and bolted out of the shed.
The locked door was no match for a .45. Santos shot through the wood near the knob and kicked hard below the lock. The wood cracked and the door flung open. Santos stalked inside, his gaze bouncing around the darkness. Thunder bellowed and then lightning jabbed, illuminating the room briefly.
Hayley crouched near a dresser, her eyes wide with terror.
“You bitch.”
She stood up and tried to run past him. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her to a stop. She screeched in pain as he forced her to her knees. He pressed the gun against her temple then changed his mind. He pushed the barrel against her lips, forcing her mouth open.
“Sometimes people survive if the bullet ricochets,” he said, fascinated by the growing fear in her eyes. “It might travel to your brain and kill you instantly.” He tilted her head back, pressing the tip of his .45 against the roof of her mouth. “Or it might just blow out the back of your neck. You’d be paralyzed then. Unable to speak. Unable to move. You’d spend the rest of your days with someone else wiping your ass for you. Feeding you through a tube.” He tapped her forehead. “All the while, your mind is as sharp as ever.”
He smiled as her whole body began to tremble.
Logan tore through the kitchen and into the lobby. He immediately saw Claire crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. He hurried across the lobby and squatted down, pressing two fingers against her carotid pulse. It was strong. Relief flowed through him. Then he noticed the sticky substance.
Blood.
He wasn’t going to panic. Hayley was somewhere. Safe. She had to be safe. Claire would’ve protected her.
Claire moaned as her eyes fluttered open. “Shit,” she said. “That hurt.”
“You okay?”
“I will be. I just need to patch myself up.” Her eyes widened. She struggled to sit up. “Oh, my God, Logan. Hayley’s alone. And Santos is in here!”
Jolted, he stared at his friend. “Where?”
Hayley’s scream broke through the storm’s noise, the noise echoing down the staircase. Logan jumped to his feet.
“Go,” yelled Claire. “Go!”
Facing the man she feared the most, Hayley was instantly transported back to that awful night Santos murdered his wife. Maria had been too terrified to fight for her own life. She thought she knew Santos. She believed that she could soothe him, placate him. But you couldn’t bargain with a soulless, conscienceless psycho.