“He’s in Texas,” I cried as blood poured from my broken nose.
38
Mila
I breathed as deeply as I could through my nose and then let it out through my mouth, counting the seconds as I tried to slow my heartbeat. If today was the day I’d die, I wouldn’t give Marshall Fucking Livingston the satisfaction of showing fear or begging for my life.
Listening to the two men argue, I got a clear picture of what had happened with Sybil. My father didn’t kill Sybil; Marshall Livingston had when she refused to hand over the flash drive with the documents he’d paid her to steal from Knighthawk. Instead, my sister ran from the same house where we all were now. Marshall had gone after her, firing into the darkness, but lost her. Until Adler told him he was on his way to Texas with me, Marshall believed she’d gotten away.
He’d sneered when he told my father that, instead, his son told him that I was with the medical examiner, identifying my sister’s body.
“You killed your own flesh and blood,” my father yelled at him.
“How is that different than you abandoning yours?”
“Tell me this, Marshall,” I heard my father say. “Did you rape my wife?”
The man holding the gun to my head laughed. At that moment, I wanted to kill him more than I ever had before. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. His cackle gave both me and my father the answer.
I studied my father’s face, watching the emotions play out on it. I saw both pain and fear, but then, I saw something else.
My father’s eyes flashed as though he’d seen something, or someone, in the direction of the barn. Seconds later, I saw him slowly lower and then raise his head. It was a fraction of an inch, but I saw it. Was it a signal of some kind? Was someone else here? Was it Decker?
“What’s it going to be Livingston? You kill her and you won’t get a goddamn penny, and that’s if you live long enough to see the inside of a prison cell. Let her go and we’ll negotiate.”
39
Decker
While I listened to Judd try to negotiate with Marshall, I sent a message to Rile, telling him that Mila was being held at gunpoint and that he should communicate with me through the headset.
“Understood,” I heard Rile respond through my earpiece.
“Where are the records being stored?” I heard Marshall yell at Judd.
“In a safe location.”
“Tell me where, you goddamn mother fucker!”
I peered around the corner and saw Livingston tighten his grip on Mila.
I was running out of time. There was no clear path for resolution here. Even if Judd told him where the files were, Marshall wouldn’t let either of them just walk away. If only I had a way to tell Judd to give Marshall something, even if it was a lie. At least then the man would attempt some kind of move. While there was a fifty-fifty chance Livingston would shoot Mila first, my gut told me the man would shoot Judd.
“We have eyes on the scene,” I heard Rile say.
“I have a clean shot from the south,” Edge added.
I was on the north side of the house, and the gun Marshall held on Mila was in his right hand. If I fired, there was a chance Livingston might jerk, causing his gun to go off.
“Take it,” I responded at the exact same moment Livingston lowered his arm and fired at Judd. Edge’s shot went off a split-second later, hitting Marshall in the head. I surged forward as both men fell to the ground and caught Mila in my arms.
“You’re safe. Everything is okay,” I muttered, repeating myself as I walked her away from the scene.
Her skin was cold and clammy, breathing shallow, and her heart rate had to be skyrocketing based on what I could feel when I rested my fingers on her pulse. When I felt her legs give out, I caught her a second time and held her in my arms.
“Shh,” I whispered. “Everything is okay. You’re safe.” I carried her over to the Bummer, set her in the front seat, and then raced around to the driver’s side.
As I drove back to the ranch, I glanced over at Mila every few seconds. Her back was ramrod straight as she stared out the front window.