there was emotion in his voice. Pure, raw anger.
“Please, don’t,” Clayton managed to say to her.
Clayton tried to get closer to her so he could shield her with his body, but Quentin just adjusted the strobe so that the jabs of light came right at Clayton. It was more effective than gunfire in neutralizing him. Worse, the pain was affecting his vision. Everything was a blur. He had to be able to see Quentin so he could take him out.
“Clayton, we got a problem,” he heard Declan shout out. “A big one.”
That was not what Clayton wanted to hear. Before he’d barreled into the guest room to try to save Lenora, he had left Declan standing guard in the entry at the bottom of the stairs. With the security system off, Clayton hadn’t wanted anyone else to sneak in. Cutter was with Stella, Kirby and Wyatt while they regained consciousness from what was probably a stun gun attack. Clayton prayed that Quentin hadn’t sent a henchman to hurt any of them, but obviously something had gone wrong.
“Go ahead, Marshal. Tell Clayton what the problem is,” Quentin called out to Declan, and he sounded very pleased with himself. “I think your brother will want to hear just what kind of help I brought with me.”
Quentin was actually enjoying this, and Clayton wished he could beat the man to a pulp for being so cavalier about putting so many lives in danger.
“With all the gunfire, I didn’t hear them come in until it was too late,” Declan said. Unlike Quentin, there was nothing but concern in his brother’s voice. “Three men. One is holding a gun on me, and the other has a gun aimed at the ceiling.”
“Not just any ordinary gun, either,” Quentin volunteered. “It’s a high-powered automatic loaded with armor-piercing bullets.”
From the sound of it, Clayton figured it was a machine gun. Definitely not something he wanted in the mix of this battle with Quentin.
“Oh, and the triggerman doesn’t have it aimed at just any ceiling,” Quentin added. “He has it pointed right at the bathroom floor where Lenora is standing.”
Hell. And with armor-piercing bullets, the shots would tear through the floor and hit her.
Lenora shifted her position, obviously getting ready to move.
“I wouldn’t advise that, Lynnie,” Quentin told her. “My triggerman and I are wearing communicators, so he can hear every word I say. And here’s what I’m telling him. If he hears another shot or any kind of movement, he’s to start firing. You’d be dead before you could draw your next breath.”
Chapter Seventeen
Lenora froze. She glanced down at the floor where she was standing. It wasn’t hard for her to picture Quentin’s lackey beneath her, his gun ready to blow her to bits.
She wanted to curse Quentin and put an end to this, but she couldn’t risk firing a shot, because it could get both Clayton and her killed. Especially since that blasted light had essentially disarmed Clayton. God knew how much pain he was in, and all because of Quentin.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked Quentin. But she didn’t really care why. She just wanted to figure out a way to get Clayton and his family out of this.
“I thought that was obvious. Revenge. No way could I let you get away with what you did to me. Spying on me. Giving that SOB Agent Britt all the dirty little details of my life.”
Quentin adjusted the light, and even though she couldn’t see Clayton, she supposed Quentin was doing that to torment him. Without the gunfire, Lenora could hear Clayton’s muffled sounds of pain.
“What I did to you?” she repeated. “You were breaking the law, and you were using me to do it.”
“You knew exactly what you were doing,” Quentin fired back.
But she hadn’t known about the criminal activity until James had shown up at her home and told her. Of course, in Quentin’s crazed mind, maybe blaming her was what he needed to do to justify his own guilt.
“Okay, here’s how this is going to work,” Quentin continued. He also continued slashing that light at Clayton. “You’re both going to put down your weapons. Carefully, and keeping your hands where I can see them. And then Lynnie’s going to step out and come with me.”
Oh, God. He was planning to kidnap her. Or maybe that was just a ruse to get her to leave cover. Quentin could just shoot and kill her first chance he got.
“Oh, and if you don’t drop your guns,” he