“Hold on a second,” I hear Pip say into his phone. “I still can’t hear you.”
His voice fades.
Everything is too quiet here, an unsettling hush that makes me think of a funeral. I listen to the reassuring sounds of Ben’s slow, even breathing.
I’m beginning to see why Dee hates hospitals now.
Finding nothing interesting in the magazine, I get up and go to the nightstand for another.
There’s a soft click of the door shutting.
“Everything okay, Dee?” I put the magazine down, bending for another. “Did you find what you needed?”
“Don’t move,” a man’s voice growls softly behind me.
I jerk upright instinctively.
The cool barrel of a gun presses to my temple. My heart jumps into my throat.
Instantly, I picture a man who works for this unknown Adamson pointing a pistol at my head. That, or one of the Satan’s Bastards. I remain perfectly still, not even daring to breathe.
“Don’t move, and don’t make a sound.” The voice is rough and ragged and hushed.
My ears rush with the sound of blood pounding in them. I swallow hard, groping for a way to buy time, hoping Ben or Penny wake up. Hoping they don’t, so that they won’t become targets.
“Step away from the bed,” the same voice orders. The gun’s barrel slowly moves away from my temple as he backs up to give me room.
As I take two small steps tentatively backward, the instinct to look at the owner of that voice is impossible to ignore. I turn my head to the side, expecting to see a man with a mask, like Adamson’s goon wore, or a biker in a cut. Instead, he’s wearing the same Chicago Bulls hoodie he wore in the hall. His hood is still up, but this time I take notice of his face.
My eyes go huge, and my stomach gives a horrible lurch.
The man is pointing a gun at my head, but it isn’t one of Adamson’s men and it isn’t a member of the Satan’s Bastards. I’d know that scruffy face and those intense, dark eyes anywhere, even if I’ve only ever seen them once, on the cover of a newspaper.
“Don’t do anything stupid. Move and I’ll blow your fucking head off, bitch,” Gary Jamison orders.
17
Wind of Change
I stand there, for the second time in three days, with a man pointing a gun at me. Two realizations hit me at once, whirling through my head in a dark tangle.
First, Ben’s father—the man who put Penny in a hospital bed less than five feet from me—is now standing within two steps of the boy and his mother while they sleep, both unaware of the danger.
And second, Pip and Dee are both gone, who knows how far away, with the door to the room closed behind Gary. Even if they came back now, they might not know anything is wrong. They might think Penny had the door shut for some reason. If I cry out for help, not only might I get myself shot, but I could get Ben or Penny killed, too.
Out of some instinct to keep the man as calm as possible, I raise my hands slowly where he can see them.
Gary Jamison nods, his expression a sneer. “Smart girl. Step away from the bed.” He jerks the gun to my right.
He wants me out of reach of his son and the wife he almost killed.
Before I can move, a small, sleepy groan reaches my ears. I close my eyes in silent prayer, my fear for Ben doubling.
“I gotta pee,” Ben says.
I look at the bed out of the corner of my eye. Ben is sitting up, rubbing his eyes, looking at the bathroom across from the foot of the bed. He hasn’t seen his father yet.
I signal for him to remain where he is, my fingers stretched out at my side.
Ben’s head jerks to me. A small gasp leaves him, and he jerks back on the bed as if electrocuted. “Daddy…” His voice is small and raspy with fear.
Gary takes a half a step toward him. His eyes focus on Ben, but he keeps the gun pointed at me. “Hey, little buddy.” His voice is an attempt at friendliness and warmth, but it’s a notch off pitch, making the fatherliness in it sound forced and wild. “Come here, pal.” Still aiming the pistol at my head, he gestures to Ben.
I look at the boy in time to see him shake his head jerkily.
“It’s okay, Benny. I’m not going to hurt you.” He gestures again, his