“After all she did to you?” Chuck asked.
“Yes.” Until now, Danielle hadn’t known that about herself. “She’s still my mother.”
Lance grabbed the novel. “We’ll only use it if we have to.”
“We’ll take care of her, guys,” Michael said. “Go.”
Lance and Chuck bolted out the door.
Anxious and unable to just sit and wait, Danielle got one of the outfits she’d brought with her out of the closet. “Can you turn around?”
“Sure.” Michael’s face was more serious than she’d ever remembered seeing it.
Slipping on her clothes, she heard two gunshots. She gasped.
Michael pulled her to his side. “Quiet.”
They listened for any other sound, but heard nothing.
“I’m going to check on Harry. You go get in the closet. Text Lance and Chuck. I’ll be right back.”
Her pulse raced in her veins. She crouched down in the closet, leaving the door open just a crack so she could see out. “Michael, my gun is in my purse. Take it with you.”
He nodded, turning to the nightstand.
She sent a text. 911 – Miguel tricked us. Come back. Gunshots.
She looked up from her cell and saw Michael reaching into her purse just as Miguel appeared at the door.
He fired his gun at Michael, who fell to the ground with a thud.
Oh God. Not again.
She placed her hands over her mouth, praying the monster wouldn’t hear her or see her. Through the sliver of the door and its frame, she saw the man she’d feared her entire life. His jeans were covered in blood. Apparently Harry had shot him. What about Harry?
Miguel bent down over Michael. “Motherfucker, where is Danielle? You’re hiding her. Tell me where she is.”
“Never,” Michael choked out, holding his shoulder.
“Too bad, asshole.” The bastard placed the barrel of his gun to Michael’s head.
The image of Miguel standing over Pauline with the lamp all those years ago burned fresh in her mind. She couldn’t let Michael suffer for her mistake. Time to stop running.
“Stop!” She opened the door. “I’m here.”
Miguel twisted around and faced her. “Just like your fucking mother. A goddamn bitch.”
“Take what you want and get out of my house.” Michael glared at the man. The bullet had hit his shoulder, and she could see the dark stain of blood expanding on his shirt. He needed to see a doctor as soon as possible.
Miguel kicked him in the head. “Shut your fucking mouth, queer. Yes, I heard who you were at the diner. They love you in this town. I don’t. One more word and I will put a bullet between your eyes.”
“You want that book, Miguel?” She shoved her fear down as best she could. Their lives depended on her keeping her head. “You better back off.”
“Where’s my fucking book, bitch?”
“Let us go and I will give it to you.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate, Danielle,” Miguel’s tone softened. He limped forward one step. The wound Harry had given him in his leg continued to bleed.