Simon signaled Henry to stay back as a lookout while he tried the door. It was locked. “My partner is on the second floor. I’ll assist there. You locate Alex. Fighting was heard on the third floor, so start there.”
Simon kicked the lock on the door, but the door didn’t give. This wasn’t the time to wait for backup. Henry grabbed a patio chair and smashed it through the full-length window in the door. Raking the rough edges with the chair, he stepped in, gun drawn and ready. Simon followed behind.
The bottom of the house was dark, except for a few lights left illuminating a path to the kitchen and the front foyer. They crossed a large family room. A creak from the right sent them diving in different directions, avoiding a bullet aimed at one of them. He heard Simon shuffle against a wall.
They couldn’t waste time down here. They needed to find Alex.
When the bastard with the gun started firing a haphazard spray of bullets and moved farther into the room, Simon fired a single bullet toward the sound. His shot ripped through a window in the dining room. Damn, he’d never been a straight shot. The gunman fired back. Neighbors would be calling the police soon. They didn’t have much time.
Henry took aim, a position as natural as holding a book, and hit the assailant midforehead. The man dropped with a thud.
He’d let his conscience rip him apart later, after Alex was safe and in his arms.
Staying low, he crossed to the dead assailant and took his gun. He acknowledged Simon with a nod and crept out of the room.
Chapter Thirty
Henry hadn’t killed anyone since leaving the service. Death still wrenched his gut and ripped out a piece of his soul, but the urgency to find Alex took priority. He climbed the stairs two at a time until he hit the second-floor landing. A quick glance to the left and right revealed long hallways of doors. The enormous house must have forty rooms in it.
Simon would be heading to his partner as soon as he picked his arse up off the floor. Henry continued up the stairs to the third-floor landing. He needed more information. The only sound came from something shuffling around on the second floor. Probably Simon.
A stream of light flowed out from under a door farther down the hall. Henry took off toward the light and paused. Not hearing anything inside, he pushed the door open, keeping his gun raised. His stomach roiled as he braced himself for whatever his instinct told him was behind the door.
“Alex?” He spoke in a loud whisper.
The opulent bedroom had a crackling fire in the fireplace filling the room with a smoky scent. By the fireplace, the room’s only occupant sat in a chair with his legs crossed, pointing a gun toward Henry.
Luc.
“If it isn’t cousin John. Nice to meet you again.” A long, bloody laceration marked his face, and his clothes appeared disheveled and stained. His serenity, amid such a violent appearance, failed to cover his malevolent soul. He’d kill Henry without a moment’s hesitation. Henry approached with caution.
“Where’s Alex?” He glanced around the room with his gun trained on Luc’s head. He’d have killed him immediately, but he didn’t kill arbitrarily. He might require information.
“My wife? She was sleeping soundly last I saw her. Dead to the world as the saying goes.” His arm stretched across the armrest, his aim steady and directed at Henry. “Should I be calling the police about a break-in? I’d hate to kill you, but I’m within my rights to use deadly force to protect my family.”
Henry glared at the manky prat who’d ripped apart Alex’s life. “Let me take her out of here, and I won’t be forced to kill you.” Cocky language might hold Luc back if he had the slightest hesitation to kill. He didn’t.
Luc’s gun went off and struck one of Henry’s knuckles in his right hand. As the pain exploded across his fingers, he lost hold of the gun. A second round went over his head and he dived out the door, reached into his waistband with his left hand, and pulled out the Glock 19 he’d taken from the corpse near the back entrance.
Breathing heavily, he heard Luc throwing more wood into the fireplace. He turned back into the room. Luc was pushing burning firewood into the middle of the throw rug. The son of a bitch was going to burn the place down with Alex inside. The edges of the rug had already caught fire. Henry stayed low, catching his breath, the hatred for Luc pushing away his panic for Alex’s safety.
A low growl came from Henry’s throat as he aimed with his left hand and fired. His shot nicked Luc in the shoulder. Luc dived to the ground and returned the volley, missing twice, but hitting Henry on the side of his chest the third time. The force knocked him to the floor and pushed the air from his lungs. He shook the pain off and silently thanked Simon for the loan of the Kevlar vest. It still hurt like hell, but he was alive. He needed to move his position to avoid being vulnerable to a final shot in the head.
“Good-bye, Mr. West. Good luck finding your cousin in time to escape.”
Luc clicked on an empty cartridge, paused, and then swung the butt of his gun toward Henry’s face. Quick reflexes had the gun in Henry’s tight grip before being pistol-whipped. He tried to pull Luc off balance, but Luc kicked his chest while pulling the gun out of his hand.
Flames had already spread up the heavy drapes. Noxious gases billowed throughout the room. Henry roused himself before the smoke and fire overtook him. By the time he pushed himself to a standing position, Luc had run.