He waggled the gun, gesturing for her to rise. "The doorbell will be ringing any—"
The back door opened. "Mom? Dad? Everything okay? I tried to call."
Dread pierced her more effectively than any bullet. In seeking to protect one child, now she had another just as precious in danger.
Mr. Narcissist jerked to look—the perfect chance to jump him. Except now he had his gun pointed at Chris, her son standing pale-eyed and swaying in the archway from the kitchen to the hall, with Bo stunned to a stop a few steps behind him.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
"Chris, get back," she shouted.
"Don't move, pal." Gun level, the man reached down and jerked Rena to her feet. Her hands still tied slackly, she stumbled up, her knees protesting after so long folded. "I'll put a bullet right through your mother."
"Mr. Haugen?" Chris gasped.
Chris's boss? Hadn't that guy already been questioned in regards to the Miranda Casale issue?
And likely released. Hell and damn. Their hope of getting out alive evaporated now that they had a name for their attacker. He couldn't let them live. And obviously everyone would know that.
An exasperated sigh slid through the mask right before he peeled it off, sandy-colored hair standing on end. "You never could learn when to keep your mouth shut, could you, pal?"
Kurt Haugen pitched aside the mask, grabbing her arm again before she could inch more than a whisper away. The barrel of the gun cut into her side. She didn't dare risk more movement even with his attention focused on Chris and Bo.
She stole a quick check on J.T. in the closet. His eyes opened, not much but enough for her to know he was awake and plotting. He stared straight at her, two fingers flicking. She frowned. He repeated the flicking gesture until she understood.
He wanted her to lead the man away, keep him occupied. Give J.T. a chance to slip out and catch him unaware.
At least that's what she hoped he meant.
They had a single edge. Haugen didn't know J.T. was awake and untied—an edge that wouldn't last long once Haugen regrouped.
She prayed Chris wouldn't ask about his father and remind the man. "Hon, I'm okay. Everything will be fine as long as we stay calm. And now that Bo's here, maybe he can help Mr. Haugen with the information he needs. Is your flight bag in the kitchen or the Jeep?"
"Whoa. Hold on a minute" Haugen interrupted with an easygoing smile, as if doing nothing more than asking friends to wait up for him on the golf course. "Nobody goes anywhere unless I say so. And I say we go to the kitchen and figure out what the hell's going on."
He jerked her forward—without sparing so much as a backward glance at J.T.—and ushered them all into the kitchen.
"I had a good thing going, pal," Haugen tsked at Chris, "until you opened your mouth." Frowning, he glanced back over his shoulder.
J.T.
She had to keep this guy talking. Narcissists loved to talk about themselves, right? "What do you mean, a good thing?"
"The drug running, of course. Well, until your kid got weirded out by moving a little money for us. Geez, we would have paid him well. The two military dudes were more than happy to figure out a way to pay their maxed credit cards."
"Why not leave the country? Why take a chance breaking into our house, holding us this way? It sounds like you're smarter than that." Keep talking. Cover noises.
"Because I can't just run off, even if there was somewhere to hide from my boss. I'm accountable to people, people who expect something from me on this end—which I will have once I have the flight schedule. The feds are getting a little too snoopy after those surveillance flights. Once I have the schedule in hand, we can reroute our guys' paths and times accordingly for a final big payoff. Then the family will relocate me."
Like a kaleidoscope, his words and images jumped in her mind—drugs, family, threats, emblems…
Her gaze dropped back to his belt buckle. Finally she remembered why it had seemed so familiar painted on the brick. "Ohmigod."
The red circle, black triangle inside.
Revulsion shuddered through her. She knew exactly where she'd spotted those markings before, symbols that were well-kept secrets known only to those on the inside. This insignia represented one of the most powerful Mob families.
A perverted coat of arms she'd seen as a child while peeking through the banister rails at her father's "business" guests.