bump in the road. I’m going to get through this mess and come out the other side a rich man.”
“But people will die—”
“Not my problem.” He’d reached Carol’s bedroom door, and glanced over his shoulder into the room. What did he see, what was going on in there? Was Meredith still holding the vase? Carol would still be in bed, and frantic, because they would all have heard what Dietrich had said. What was Olivia doing? Olivia was the wild card, and she’d been involved in the gunfight at the store. She might try to jump Dietrich from behind. But, thank God, after looking inside the bedroom Dietrich began edging away again, back toward where Sela stood in the middle of the room.
“Jeremy,” he said, grinning at Sela, “take care of the ladies in the bedroom.”
Jeremy steered well clear of Sela as he circled around, walked to the door, and looked into Carol’s room. “You mean, tie ’em up?”
“No, that is not what I mean,” Lawrence said sharply. “When you stage a coup you wipe out the previous administration. Take care of it.”
“But—”
“Gut ’em or shoot ’em. Your choice.”
Horror filled her at his words. Jeremy paled, and it wasn’t her imagination. She knew nothing about him other than he was Lawrence’s brother, and she wouldn’t have known that much if not for Ted. Was he the kind of man who would do as his brother ordered, no matter what?
She had to do something, anything. She tensed, nothing on her mind except blindly rushing Lawrence and taking her chances with that rifle. If she could distract both men for just a little while, not even a minute, maybe the others could escape, maybe they could barricade the door—anything.
Jeremy let his arm drop to his side. He was still holding his rifle, but he wasn’t aiming it at anyone. “I’m not killing a bunch of old women and a kid.”
Lawrence erupted in fury, spinning toward his brother. “Damn it, you always were a pussy. I’ll do it myself!”
Planning required calculation, and she didn’t have time for that. She simply leaped, driven by desperation. She tackled Lawrence from behind, driving her shoulder into his hips. He staggered but didn’t go down; she grabbed at his legs and jerked, lost her own balance, and sprawled hard on the floor. Her face was nauseatingly close to the blood-splattered boots. He stumbled again, recovered again, and still didn’t fall. She grabbed one of his ankles and jerked, then drew her legs up and kicked as hard as she could, catching him behind the knee.
He grunted and stumbled forward again, but the son of a bitch still didn’t go down. Sobbing, desperate, she tried to scramble to her feet.
Lawrence turned around and pushed her, hard; she landed on her back, the breath knocked out of her. He kicked her in the side, on the thigh, cursing at her with each blow. The pain was excruciating, paralyzing. Dimly she thought she should fight through it, but at the moment all she could do was curl up and cover her head with her arms.
Jeremy backed away from the bedroom door, hands up in a way that indicated he wasn’t getting involved. Over Lawrence’s shoulder Sela glimpsed a blur of movement. Meredith rushed forward with the vase in her hand, while Barb—Barb!—was swinging one of Carol’s crutches. Olivia had the other one.
Sela rolled away, somehow finding the strength, desperately hoping Lawrence’s attention would stay on her and he wouldn’t notice the poorly armed women. She came to a stop against the couch and could go no farther. Lawrence came toward her like a demon, his expression twisted with rage. She closed her eyes, waiting for the gunshot that would end her, or another savage kick. Maybe she hadn’t been able to save herself, but maybe the others could make it out, somehow. Ben. His name echoed in her mind.
The sound of the blast was deafening.
She didn’t feel anything. What—?
She opened one eye and saw Lawrence in a boneless, awkward heap a couple of yards away. Weakly she struggled to her knees, not understanding and wanting nothing more than to get away while she could. Then there was a blur of movement and Ben dropped down to wrap his arms around her, hugging her tightly to him.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice raw and close, so wonderfully close.
“I thought he was going to kill me,” she said numbly, still dazed and not with the program at all.