“Here. Look.” He handed off the field glasses to his brother and turned to Nicholas and nodded. “This is it. We gotta cover them. If she passes off those weapons to Drae—”
“She will,” Trevor said, seemingly confident.
There wasn’t time to question him. He seemed cocksure of himself and considering what Nicholas knew about her, he would probably agree with Trevor on this one. She would pass off those guns without a second thought.
“She’s doing it,” Harley announced. “Get ready, boys.”
Nicholas turned to the others on the left side of the gate and nodded. They would await the first shot and then hell would rise and blood would shed.
Little did they know, hell had a specific name—Sable Samms, formerly known as Sable McCoy.
* * * *
“Stop right where you are, Sable!” Tabor McCoy’s decrepit voice filled the air. While Sable had once loved him like a father, she recognized the sinister tone in his pitch, the loathing now evident behind his chopped syllables. She easily recognized his newfound hatred because she’d once been on the inside of the McCoy’s coveted and guarded circle.
She’d witnessed enough brutality, seen death in its many forms. She’d also witnessed the torture. In many ways, Tony had made her witness the torturing of others in order to inflict pain on her as well.
Yes, indeed. Sable knew the McCoy way.
Only steps away from Draegan now, she ran her hands down her denim-clad thighs and stretched her fingers wide, wiggling them as if to prepare them for the exercise to come, only this was no exercise. This wasn’t a game.
The forthcoming minutes were crucial and blood would be shed there. That, too, was the McCoy way.
She locked eyes with Draegan as he kept walking toward her. She knew how Tabor operated and while her appearance there had temporarily stopped the count, they still had every intention of killing Draegan.
“They’re gonna kill you,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I know.” He seemed at peace with that fact.
All the more disturbing, Sable mused, grabbing two pistols from her belt and tossing them his way. “Get down!”
Draegan looked shocked as hell, but he grabbed the guns, rolled to the left, and started firing. Behind them and in front of them, bullets ricocheted all over the place. Sable kept her head covered until there was a break for threats. Once the threats started, she reached for the two pieces shoved down in her boots.
She remained flat against the ground, thankful for the limited coverage the shrubs provided.
“Sable!” Tabor’s outcry ran shivers up her spine. “I taught you this way. You hear me! I taught you, but I didn’t teach you everything, doll! I didn’t teach you how to take out an army or how to slap away the hand that fed you without any guilt. You hear me, girl? I didn’t teach you the things you’re gonna need most out here! You can’t win this war, Sable. I won’t let ya!”
Sable kept her head down. He was right. She agreed with him there. She couldn’t win here. People like her, born to poverty and sold for riches, couldn’t find vindication with a gun in their hand.
“I know you’re still out there, daughter!” he screamed. “Be woman enough to show yourself and take the punishment you’ve earned! Do you hear me?”
“And is that punishment death?” She slowly rose to her feet, deciding if she had to hide for the rest of her life then there wasn’t a point in trying to make it out of there alive.
“You ungrateful little bitch!” Tabor crept away from the shadows. His humped back and slight limp gave him away. The long tailored coat he wore was nothing more than a costume. Underneath that trench coat was a powerful rifle and he would use it and fight to his death.
Sable swung both her arms forward, aware of additional coverage from an intercom post. Approximately seven feet high and five feet wide, the post probably would protect her for the time being, assuming Tabor didn’t take more than five or six steps.
She glanced across the way. Draegan crawled to the posting station on the other side of the road. She couldn’t tell if he was injured.
Behind her, a mix of voices screamed out to her. “Get back! Damn it, Sable! Let us handle this! Get the hell out of the way!”
“You’re not going anywhere. Are you, Sable?” Tabor’s evil laugh resonated in her ears, thrumming like a worn-out drum as he inched closer.
“Hold your fire!” Mac screamed, likely concerned someone would become trigger-happy once she stepped beyond the shadows.
And she would step. She would come out of hiding with her guns cocked and ready. And she would fire. She would shoot the man who had taught her how to use these guns because, as he’d once told her, “A pretty face can easily be disfigured if a shooter isn’t willing to pull that trigger. If you pull a gun, Sable, you’d better know how to use it.”
“You know I’ll shoot,” Sable said, aware of her weary voice. “Please, Tabor. Please turn and go back.”