When You Dare - Lori Foster [152]
His body quickened with surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“You thought I didn’t know? I recognized you right off.” Dare shook his head. “You are so fucking dead,” he told him and started walking again.
George lifted the gun higher. “Stop, goddamn it!”
Dare stopped, but only to say, “What do you want with her?”
Feeling in control again, George laughed. “It’s just a game. No one’s going to kill her.”
“So you’re playing with her? Why?”
George shrugged. “More like detaining her.”
“In Mexico?”
“Out of sight, out of mind.”
Knowing Molly was probably listening, but seeing no help for it, Dare nodded. “I see. So it is Kathi, huh?”
Both men went still.
Idiots. Bishop had suspected his wife after her ridiculous scene in the library. No, he hadn’t named her, but Dare had suspected her, too. Knowing Bishop likely had his own agenda, Dare hadn’t ruled out other possibilities.
But then he’d seen that most recent hateful letter from the post office. No return address, but the postmark showed it was mailed from within the same town.
“Fess up now,” Dare told them, “and I’ll let you go.” To give the lie credence, he showed his teeth in a semblance of a smile. “Otherwise, I turn you over to the feds.”
“Bullshit.” Though it was falling apart around him, George tried to bluster his way through. “You can’t do anything.”
“You know better than to believe that.”
He aimed the gun at Dare’s chest. “No one wants the woman killed. But you, you’re plenty fucking expendable.”
Dare’s expression didn’t change. “You’re already too late, you know.”
The man with George got antsy, taking his attention back and forth between George and Dare. “What’s he talking about?”
“Shut up,” George told his accomplice. He took a step off the porch toward Dare. “He doesn’t mean anything.”
“That’s not precisely true. The minute you fucked with my security, a report went out. Cops will be here any minute. On top of that, I knew all along that you were following me. When I stopped at that restaurant? That was just to give my friend a chance to follow you.” Dare looked beyond them and, as if he saw someone, said, “Right on time.”
The second man jerked around to face the new threat—and Chris shot him in the back of his shoulder. The impact of the bullet propelled him forward and into the back wall. He sank down to the ground.
George looked over at his buddy for only a second, and Dare charged him. George jerked up in time to get off a single shot, but the bullet only grazed Dare’s arm.
No way in hell would that slow him down.
As if they’d timed it, the skies opened up in a torrential downpour. Dare tackled the guard, and they both went down hard onto the porch. George’s head gave a satisfying thud against the concrete. The gun skittered out of his limp hand.
Another shot sounded, and Dare glanced over to see Chris standing there, soaked to the skin, the rain mingling with the blood to trail down his face. Though he wavered on his feet, he held the gun secure in both hands.
He’d shot the other man again to ensure he wouldn’t be a threat, just as Dare had always instructed him to do.
Using his elbow, Dare struck George in the jaw and felt the tension in his body slacken. Grabbing him by the shirtfront, he hauled him up to punch him hard, once, twice.
He wanted to kill the son of a bitch. The need to kill clawed inside him.
But he had promised Molly. And she needed the whole truth, every word of it. He couldn’t get that from a dead man.
With an effort, Dare pulled back.
George was utterly limp.
With his twisted sense of humor, Chris asked, “You done?”
“No.” Dare grabbed the hood and yanked it off of George’s bloodied and battered face. His nose was broken, his jaw already turning purple. “I’m just getting started.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DARE PUSHED TO HIS feet and looked at Chris. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” He curled his lip. “But it’s not like I’d complain about a bump on the head or this freezing rain, not with you standing there all macho, a damn bullet in your arm.”
“Shit, I forgot about that.” Dare