A flush rushed to her cheeks. “I just assumed—”
“I don’t want you to get hurt, but I know damned well you’d just follow me there. Now are you ready?”
She nodded.
Dylan made it to Marcus’s house in record time. If there’d been a cop on the road, he’d have definitely been pulled over, but someone was looking out for him. He pulled to a stop by the curb. The huge house Marcus had bought after he’d signed his big contract loomed in front of them.
Dylan grasped Olivia’s hand in his, holding on tight as he led the way. The front door was ajar, and when a noise sounded from inside, Dylan shoved the door open farther and stepped into the dimly lit foyer, Olivia by his side.
“Marcus?” Dylan called.
Without warning, the lights flicked on, nearly blinding him with their intensity, and he blinked to adjust his sight. And, without warning, Olivia screamed as her hand pulled out of his.
* * *
One minute Olivia’s hand was warm and secure in Dylan’s, the next, she was pulled against a hard body.
She jerked away, but whoever had her held on tight.
“Don’t move,” Wendell said, shoving a gun into her side. Behind her, his wiry frame was hot and sweaty. Olivia’s mouth ran dry, and fear rushed through her.
“You son of a bitch,” Dylan said, facing Wendell, who Olivia had thought was in an Arizona jail for illegal possession of a handgun and holding Olivia against her will, among other things.
“Where is Marcus?” she asked, hoping the other man was okay and could somehow help them.
“In the kitchen. I asked him to call and get you here, and he did.”
Marcus had set them up? Olivia thought she might get sick.
“He’s a good little cousin—or he was until you got in the way.” Marcus prodded her harder with the weapon.
She winced and Dylan took a step forward.
“Stay back! I’ve got the bitch and the gun.”
Dylan came to an immediate halt, his hands raised.
Olivia tried to think if she could get herself out of this without anyone being hurt. Drop to the floor? He’d shoot Dylan. Kick into him? Again, he had the gun. Frustration along with dread washed over her again.
“Wendell, put the gun down,” Dylan said in a deceptively calm voice. “You don’t want to get yourself in more trouble with the cops.”
“I won’t get in any trouble. Marcus will. He called her. He got you both here. Drugged and at gunpoint. But nobody knows that except me.”
Olivia breathed out a relieved sigh that Marcus hadn’t deliberately led them here. “Where is he?”
“I put something in his drink, and he’s passed out cold. So when they find you two shot, nobody will question who did it.”
Dylan sucked in a breath. “Why would you frame your family member?” he asked in an obvious attempt, at least to Olivia, to keep the man talking.
“What family? Marcus stopped treating me like family. He cut me off and told me to go home. I shoulda been the one to make it big. I was a better player than he ever was till I got hurt. It shoulda been me!”
A familiar refrain. Marcus had obviously heard it enough to believe it. She wondered if Wendell had ever taken responsibility for anything that had gone wrong in his life.
“And it’s all her fault. She put him in those classes. She thinks he can make his own decisions. I’m sick and tired of hearing about what Miss Olivia said,” Wendell muttered, his tone biting. “She and Marcus are both gonna pay. And since you’re here, so are you,” he spat at Dylan.
The gun dug into her ribs painfully, but she held her reaction in, not wanting Dylan to lose his temper and end up being the one hurt.
“I’m sure Marcus would still help you with money, even if you couldn’t be here with him in person,” Olivia said, trying to reason with Wendell.