Teresa must have grabbed the boy and jerked him out of Brannon’s grasp, because suddenly Brannon was fighting Riley with both hands. Riley clutched the other man’s wrist, struggling to keep the gun pointed upward. Brannon was bigger, but their strength seemed to be about equally matched.
At least Riley hoped so.
The gun went off, so loud in Riley’s ear that the sound seemed to echo inside his skull. An oddly detached part of his mind seemed to observe the details of the desperate scene in the little entryway—the screams from Teresa and Mark, the rain of plaster from the broken ceiling, his and Brannon’s grunts and growls as they fought for control of the weapon. And then the crash of the front door opening.
He hoped that sound meant Teresa was getting her son outside to safety, and he prayed Maggie was hiding somewhere equally safe. And that his own strength would hold out until help arrived.
Other hands joined unexpectedly with his, overpowering Brannon. Riley was suddenly surrounded by people.
Still shaken and disoriented by the events of the past few minutes, it took an effort on his part to identify everyone. Dan was there, holding Brannon facedown on the floor while he cuffed his hands behind his back. And Bud and R.L., standing on either side of Riley to support him when he swayed, his limbs shaking from exertion and fear.
He shook them off. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded of his uncle.
“I’ll tell you everything,” Bud promised. “As soon as things settle down.”
Teresa and Mark were there suddenly, both of them determined to make sure Riley was unharmed. “I can’t believe you threw yourself at him like that,” Teresa scolded, her face still unnaturally colorless. “You could have been killed.”
“I had to do something.” Riley wrapped his arms around Mark as the boy hid his face in Riley’s chest. He felt the heavy shudders going through the little body, and he held him closer, his eyes meeting Teresa’s over Mark’s head. “Find Maggie.”
She was already moving toward the stairs, calling her daughter’s name.
The sound of sirens—something not often heard in this usually quite little cul-de-sac—grew louder as Dan’s officers arrived to take Brannon away. Through the open door, Riley could see curious neighbors gathering on the sidewalk. Lindsey would be here soon, and Cameron and Serena and Marjorie, most likely. He could have used a few minutes to sit quietly and recuperate—preferably with Teresa—but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to have that luxury for a while.
Teresa returned with Maggie, who also threw herself at Riley, so that he had two trembling children clinging to him. Maybe he should have felt trapped, suffocated. But all he could seem to do was hold them more tightly, his eyes locked with their mother’s.
“Your mouth is bleeding,” Bud said, staring intently at his nephew’s face.
Riley could feel the throbbing of a split lip. He must have been too numb from shock to feel it earlier. He remembered Brannon getting in a couple of wild blows while they had wrestled for the gun. “I’m okay.”
“And what the hell is that? An earring?” Bud demanded, taking a step closer. “What possessed you to—”
“Riley would probably like to sit down, Bud.” Teresa interceded quickly, placing a hand on the older man’s arm. “Let’s get him into the kitchen where I can put some ice on his poor mouth.”
“All right. But I still want to hear about that earring,” Bud added darkly.
It was going to be a very long day, Riley decided in resignation. And heaven only knew when he was going to be alone with Teresa again. He had a few things to tell her when that opportunity finally arrived.
It seemed to Teresa that there was a great mob of people in her little kitchen. She could hardly move without bumping into someone. The six wooden kitchen chairs were all filled. Riley sat in one, holding an ice bag to his mouth and talking to Dan, who sat in the chair on his left side, taking notes. R.L. and Bud took up two of the other chairs, Bud holding Maggie in his lap while Mark, still unnaturally quiet from his ordeal, leaned against his side. Marjorie and Serena, who had just arrived after being called by someone, occupied the final two chairs, Marjorie on Riley’s right.
Cameron North leaned against a counter, sipping coffee and quietly watching the proceedings. Lindsey Meadows, who’d been working at the newspaper office and had hurried over as soon as she’d heard what was happening, stayed close enough to her husband to hear what he and Riley were saying but was careful not to interrupt as she scribbled in her reporter’s notebook.
Teresa had refused to sit, needing to stay busy to calm herself. She’d made coffee and sandwiches and filled plates with cookies and chips. No one seemed to be eating, but that didn’t matter. Setting out the food gave her something to do with her hands. The others must have sensed what she needed, because no one tried to discourage her actions.
Riley had already told Dan everything that had happened after Carl Brannon arrived at the door. Now he wanted to know the rest of the story, as did Teresa. “I want details,” he said, addressing the comment equally to Bud, R.L. and Dan.
“Your uncle and R.L. and I were on our way to meet here when I got the call that Maggie had called nine-one-one,” Dan explained.
Teresa felt her eyes go wide. She turned from the counter to stare at her daughter. “You called nine-one-one?”
Maggie nodded. “When that man grabbed Mark and you sent me upstairs, I knew I’d better call the police,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Good thinking,” Riley complimented her. “You really kept your head.”
“I was scared,” Maggie admitted. “But I didn’t know how else to help.”
“You did exactly the right thing,” Bud assured her, tightening his arm around her. “That’s my brave, smart girl.”
She beamed under his approval, responding to him as the surrogate grandfather Bud had become to Teresa’s children despite her efforts to keep them from getting too involved with Riley and his uncle.