She Can Kill (She Can Series) (21 page)

She balanced the phone between her face and shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Please, just do it. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes and explain everything.”

“All right.” She shuffled her purse to her left hand to retrieve her keys when Troy stepped out from around the corner of the house, the gun in his hand pointed straight at her. “Hello, Sarah.”

He’d given up his guns for visitation rights, but she knew it had been an empty gesture. The sporting goods store was stocked with weapons. An avid hunter, Troy had used rifles, bows, and handguns since his boyhood. If he fired that gun at her, he wouldn’t miss.

His eyes were cool and calculated. He wasn’t consumed in a fit of anger. Troy had planned this ambush. Sarah had never seen him this unemotional. Her fear amplified.

“Troy.” Her purse and phone fell to the grass. Terror gripped her voice.

Thank God the girls weren’t with her.

Troy walked closer and shoved her toward the house. She tripped, her feet suddenly uncoordinated.

“Fucking move, bitch.” Troy shoved the gun into his waistband. His hand slid around her bicep as he maneuvered her toward the house. On the front walk, he slipped an arm around her neck. His forearm pressed on her windpipe, and she gagged.

No! She had to resist. Being alone with him would be the worst-case scenario. But what could she do? He had a gun.

The techniques she’d learned in self-defense class came to her in a jumble. Brooke’s voice sounded in her mind.
Protect your airway!
Sarah turned her chin toward the crook of Troy’s elbow, alleviating the pressure on her windpipe. Then she tucked her chin to her chest to keep him from getting his arm under her jaw again. Her breathing eased. But that wasn’t enough. She had to get away from him. She’d seen him angry on many occasions, but this time seemed different. This wasn’t a drunken outburst of violence. Troy was thinking and planning. Fed by his damaged ego, the violence inside him had grown. He wanted to hurt her with a deep and nourished hatred.

He dragged her up the front steps.

She brought both hands up to grab his wrist and elbow, pinning his arm across her collarbone and giving her another millimeter of space to breathe. Cristan was on his way. How long would it take for him to reach her? No one had been outside when she’d parked, but in case a neighbor was within earshot, she drew in a deep breath and yelled, “Help!”

“Shut up!” Troy screamed in her ear as his hand fumbled in her pocket. He pulled out her keys and the alarm fob. Unlocking the door, he hauled her over the threshold. The security system panel emitted a steady stream of beeps. Troy pressed the button on the fob. The beeping ceased.

“That stunt you pulled this morning was a big mistake.” Troy tossed her keys and fob on the table next to the door.

Sarah released his arm with one hand, made a fist, and jabbed Troy in the ribs with her elbow. He sucked wind and dropped her. With the sudden release, she fell forward. Her knees hit the floor, and pain jolted through her legs. She got her feet under her body and dove toward the door.

But Troy was faster. His hand closed over her ankle. He yanked her toward him, and she fell to her belly on the carpet. He adjusted his grip on her foot. One hand closed over her toes; the other cupped her heel. With a twist of his hands—and her ankle—he flipped her onto her back, then stepped over her. She tried to roll away, but his short jab connected with her jaw. Pain exploded in her face as his high school ring hit her jawbone. Her head snapped back, and she slumped to the floor. Adrenaline pumped through her, numbing everything.

Troy loomed over her. He was dressed for hunting, from his hiking boots to his camouflage pants and shirt, to the smears of brown and green paint on his face. The white of his eyes shone crazy-bright from under his brown cap.

With a feral smile, he dragged her by the foot into the small kitchen. Stopping in front of the stove, he turned on all four burners and snapped off the knobs. The hiss of gas sent a fresh burst of terror shooting through her veins.

“Troy, stop,” she pleaded, knowing her words would have no effect. Sarah had seen him lose his temper many times, but this was different. Fear seeped cold into her belly. Troy had gone beyond anger. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to get even or make her pay for what she’d done.

He wanted her dead, and he was willing to kill himself in the process.

She needed to get away from him—and the gas that was filling the house. She kicked off his grip and shuffled backward like a crab through the doorway into the living room. Troy was on her in an instant. He lifted a foot, and Sarah curled on her side, raising her arms to protect her head from the imminent boot. But instead of kicking her, he planted a boot on her hip to pin her in place. Then he pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it at her face.

CHAPTER THIRTY

The scream sounded tinny and helpless over the Bluetooth speaker in the car.

“Sarah?” Cristan pressed the gas pedal to the floor, roaring down the middle of Main Street. Horns and shouts protested his sudden acceleration. Then he dialed Mike and explained what he’d heard.

“On the way,” the police chief said.

Cristan ended the call. In two minutes, he screeched to a stop two houses away from hers. He’d heard Sarah say her ex-husband’s name. The bastard must have been waiting for her. Troy mustn’t know he was here. He took his gun from under the driver’s seat and slipped from the car. He pocketed the weapon. To stay out of sight, he crossed the neighbor’s front lawn.

Sarah’s minivan sat empty in the driveway. The front door
was closed, as were the blinds over the windows. His gaze fell
on
the cell phone and packages lying on the grass. A movement in the narrow sidelight caught his attention. He ran for the front
of the house and crouched behind a shrub. In a tiny sliver of
space between the blinds and the window frame, he saw Troy
pointing a gun at Sarah.

There was no time to wait for the police.

His vow against committing violence evaporated. He wanted to kill Troy Mitchell with every fiber of his being. But he needed to get into the house without Troy seeing him. Cristan jogged around the building. He crouched next to the garage window. Hoping the alarm wasn’t set, he slid his arm out of his jacket, wrapped the fabric around the butt of his gun, and punched it through the window. The glass broke with a muffled sound. He unlocked the window and climbed into the garage. He skirted stacks of boxes and eased the door to the house open. He’d lost one woman to violence because he wasn’t there to protect her. He couldn’t let that happen again.

“What did you think you were doing?” Troy yelled. A fleshy smacking sound sent rage boiling through Cristan’s veins. If Troy hurt her . . .

He crept through the laundry room to the doorway that led to a combination living room and dining area. Peering around the doorframe, he saw Troy and Sarah in the doorway to the kitchen. Sarah was on the floor. One hand clutched her jaw. A thin line of blood trickled from her lip. Troy stood over her. The gun in his hand pointed directly at her face.

“This is the end of all our problems, Sarah,” Troy said in a calm voice that set Cristan’s instincts on alert. Instead of red and distorted with rage, Troy’s face was eerily relaxed, almost devoid of expression.

A familiar coolness washed over Cristan, chilling his anger and steadying his hands. He pulled his gun from his pocket and aimed it at Troy’s chest. Cristan’s finger curled around the trigger. He wanted to shoot the bastard with a desire that nearly overwhelmed him. But a thick, rotten odor hit his nostrils, and he froze.

Gas.

If he fired his weapon, the house would explode.

The continued hiss of gas gave Sarah new strength. Would he shoot her? Was there enough gas in the room to ignite if Troy pulled the trigger? Didn’t matter. She was dead if she stayed.

She kicked at his hand. Her foot struck his fingers and he let go, only to catch her foot again almost immediately. Dropping to the floor, he straddled her. The gun was inches from her nose, but instead of shooting her, he wrapped his fingers around her throat and squeezed.

Her vision blurred.

“Just give up, Sarah,” he said. “Admit it. I’ve won. You belong to me.”

He wanted them both to die, but he wanted to go out a winner.

Her lungs burned. She clutched at his hand, trying to grab one of his fingers to bend backward, but she couldn’t get a grip.

“I supported you. I put a roof over your head and food on your table, and you repay me by screwing another man. How long have you been fucking him, Sarah? Is it the money? You’re like every other bitch, for sale to the highest bidder. What do you have to say for yourself?” He loosened his fingers.

“No,” Sarah wheezed.

“Don’t lie to me. I saw you together. If you think you can trade me in for a rich older dude, you’re wrong.” He shifted his position, pressing his knee into her sternum and cutting off her air again. Sarah gasped, her lungs unable to inflate. Tiny dots swam before her eyes. Unable to speak or move, she floundered.

Troy eased the weight off his knee. “Say it, Sarah. Say it and it’ll all be over. No more pain. You and me. We’ll go together.”

Sarah inhaled, oxygen hitting her lungs in a rush. “The kids. Think of the girls.”

“Why? They ruined everything. The day you got pregnant was the beginning of the end. No more fun for us. You didn’t want to go out anymore. You were always tired. ‘The girls have to be in bed early,
’
” he mimicked her voice. “
They
became the most important things in your life, and
I
got kicked to the curb.”

She couldn’t respond. He’d been jealous of his own children?

“The gas, Troy. You’re going to blow us both up.” She’d never see her girls again. A tear slipped from her eye. “You don’t want to die,” she croaked.

“Don’t tell me what I want.” Hostility glittered briefly in his eyes before they went cold again. His fingers tightened on her throat. Tiny lights danced in front of Sarah’s eyes. She grabbed his wrist with both hands in a desperate attempt to loosen his grip.

Please, no.

“I don’t have anything to live for. You’ve seen to that. No wife, no family, my father is in jail, and the business is going bankrupt. You ruined everything. You ruined me. Now you think you can move on?” He leaned closer. “I won’t let you.”

Sarah’s vision darkened. Her grip on his wrist weakened, and his fingers around her throat tightened, cutting off her air.

He pressed the gun against her cheek. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

Sorrow slid over her. This was the end. She was going to die. Troy had won.

A body hit him hard, knocking him off Sarah.

She gasped. Coughing, she rolled to her side to see Cristan and Troy locked in a brawl. Cristan had come. Relief was nearly as shocking as the flood of oxygen into her lungs.

The smell of gas intensified, choking her.

They had to get out of the house.

Sarah looked toward the door. Could she make it? No. She couldn’t leave Cristan inside with Troy. Unable to stand, Sarah crawled into the kitchen toward the stove. Heaving to her knees, she tried to shut off the burners, but Troy had broken off the knobs. She needed a pair of pliers. A coughing fit seized her lungs. Dizzy, she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled out of the kitchen.

A lamp crashed to the floor as the men rolled across the carpet and bumped into an end table. Landing on top, Cristan grabbed Troy’s wrist and banged it onto the floor until he dropped the gun. Then he plowed a fist into Troy’s face. Troy bucked and threw Cristan off. Troy scrambled to his feet, lurched past the oak table in the adjoining dining area, and went out the sliding glass door. Pausing, he pointed at Sarah then Cristan. “I’m going to kill you both.” He closed the door behind him and ran for the side of the house.

Cristan launched his body toward the door and jerked it open. Fresh air poured into the house. He hesitated, clearly wanting to go after Troy. But Cristan returned to Sarah, scooped her off the floor, and carried her out the front door. She rested her face on his chest and gave in to the solid feel of his arms around her. Her brain and body felt disconnected, as if she was unable to process what had just happened. She watched in a detached daze as Mike’s SUV parked at the curb.

He jumped out of the vehicle. “Where’s Troy?”

“Troy ran out the back door.” Cristan inclined his head toward the rear of the property. “I opened the back door, but the gas is on. I wouldn’t want a spark anywhere near the house.”

Panic jolted her. She stirred, but Cristan held tight. “The girls. I have to get the girls.”

“Where are they?” Mike asked.

“Em is with Mrs. Holloway,” Sarah said. “Alex is at daycare.”

“Call daycare and Mrs. Holloway and tell them Sean will pick up the girls.” Grim, Mike talked on his cell phone as he jogged around the back of the house.

She made the calls. Hearing that both of the girls were fine allowed Sarah to breathe. Even though she knew the children would be safer with Sean than with her, her panic wouldn’t fade until she saw them with her own eyes.

“Are you all right?” Cristan asked, frowning as he scanned her face. He moved her hair aside to inspect her throat.

Sarah lifted her head from his chest. “Thanks to you, yes.” Her voice was raspy.

His arms tightened for a second, and she expected him to put her down. Instead, he walked to the back of Mike’s SUV and sat on the bumper, holding her on his lap.

Mike returned. “I turned off the gas supply to the house. The fire department and gas company are on the way. No sign of Troy.” He focused on Sarah. “Are you hurt? Should I call an ambulance?”

Sarah stirred, testing her body. As her adrenaline rush ebbed, small aches and pains came to life. Her throat throbbed. “I’m all right. I need to see the girls.”

“Sean is on his way.” Mike nodded. “We’re notifying state, county, and local law enforcement. Everyone will be looking for Troy.”

“I didn’t see his truck near the house. I would have noticed.” Suddenly realizing she was still sitting on Cristan’s lap, Sarah pushed away from his chest and slid off of him. She regretted the move immediately. The vehicle bumper was cold under her butt, and the muscles in her arms and legs quivered. Though she still wore her jacket, she was suddenly freezing.

A police cruiser parked next to Mike’s SUV and a fire truck rolled down the street. A gas company truck followed. Men emerged from vehicles and swarmed the front lawn.

“Ethan,” Mike called. “Take Cristan’s statement.”

Cristan moved away.

Crouching, Mike lifted Sarah’s chin and studied her neck. “You’re sure you’re all right? Your throat could swell.”

“Some cold water and an ice pack should be enough.”

“Tell me what happened.” Someone wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, but her body seemed to be generating cold from the inside out.

“I left the courthouse and stopped at the inn.” Sarah’s voice cracked as she summed up the morning. The events gained clarity as the words left her lips. She’d lost her job to obtain a restraining order, which was completely worthless. No piece of paper would keep Troy away.

“Come home with me,” Mike said. “You and the girls can stay with us until Troy is caught.”

“No.” Her relationship with Cristan had put him in danger. She couldn’t risk anyone else. “I won’t put Rachel in danger. You won’t even be home. You’ll be out looking for Troy.”

Mike’s mouth thinned. “What about Sean’s place?”

“No.” Sarah shook her head. “I won’t put his wife or children at risk either.” She gulped air. “Troy is suicidal, Mike. You’re not dealing with a rational man anymore. He was going to blow up the house to kill me, and he didn’t care who else he hurt in the process.”

“What about the girls?” Mike’s voice rose.

Sarah’s chest tightened. She wouldn’t endanger another person for her own safety, but her girls were a different matter. She’d mentioned the kids to Troy several times. He hadn’t reacted.

“Troy has no interest in them.” She never thought she’d be happy about his inattentiveness, but now she was nothing short of grateful. The thought of being separated from her kids filled her with panic, but they would be safer without her. “Would Sean take them for a few days?”

“Of course he will.” Mike rested a fist on his hip, frustration and determination stiffening his posture. He would not give up easily. “You’ll come back to the station with me, and we’ll discuss this again.”

Cristan approached. “Sarah will come home with me.”

“No!” Sarah objected. She couldn’t let her mistakes put Cristan in any more danger. Lucia needed a father, and he’d already risked his life for her.

Cristan held up a hand. “Troy has already declared me a target. It makes no difference whether you’re with me or not.”

“Your house is secure?” Mike asked.

“I’ve taken precautions against much more formidable opponents than Troy Mitchell,” Cristan said. “I’m on alert anyway.” He produced his cell phone and showed Mike the e-mail with the animation.

“Do you think that was Troy?” Mike asked.

“I doubt it, but it’s not impossible,” Cristan said. “The animation is crude enough, but the sender went to some trouble to encrypt the message and hide their location. Troy Mitchell seemed less than rational today.”

Mike paced. “I’d like to put you all in a safe place, but we don’t have safe houses here in Westbury. How about a hotel?”

“My house is more secure,” Cristan insisted. “Troy won’t get past my defenses.” But his face was dark. “But I fear I could endanger Sarah more. Whoever is after me might come calling.”

“I’ll put a man outside your house,” Mike said. “It’ll be easier to watch you both at once.”

Sarah sipped some water, the cool liquid soothing her throat. She wanted to protest, but what were her options? Going off on her own would be foolish.