Broken Bonds (Lizzie Grace 3)

He nodded and headed into the rear storage area, where the staff lockers were. I picked up the bag and headed out the back.

Only to open the door and find a double-barrel shotgun suddenly stuck in my face.

Chapter Twelve

My heart stuttered and for several seconds I couldn’t breathe. All I could see was the two metal cylinders that, at any moment, could blow my brains to smithereens.

“Don’t scream.” The voice was flat. Deadly. “And don’t try any of your funny stuff. This thing has a hair trigger—the minute I even suspect you’re trying to spell me, I’ll spread your brains far and wide. Is that clear?”

I swallowed heavily and nodded. I couldn’t do anything else. I could barely even think.

All I could see was the goddamn gun.

What the fuck? came Belle’s mental scream. What gun? What the hell is happening back there?

No time now. Explain later.

“Right then,” the stranger continued, “give me that bag.”

I promptly released it. The gun shifted slightly as he tossed the bag behind him, and my pulse jumped several notches. My heart was now racing so hard it felt like it was going to rip through my chest at any moment.

The rubbish bag hit the ground with a clatter, and I couldn’t help but hope the noise would drag someone outside to see what was happening. It didn’t. The area remained empty, and the plastic bag—which had split on impact—was now leaking its contents onto the concrete. It was a somewhat visual reminder of what would happen to my brains if I wasn’t very careful.

“Raise your hands, step back into the hallway, and then stop,” the stranger ordered.

I obeyed. He followed me inside and kicked the door shut. The sound echoed through the empty silence.

Only it wasn’t empty, I realized.

Frank was still here.

I mentally crossed fingers, toes, and everything else I could think of that he didn’t come out of the storeroom unexpectedly, that he’d heard what was going on and was now plotting some means of help. Whether that was texting the rangers or doing something himself, I didn’t really know or care.

I just knew that, while I didn’t want him to get hurt, I desperately needed some help. And Belle was too far away.

But I can call in help via the damn phone.

Do it. And tell them to hurry.

“What do you want?” I raised my voice a little so that Frank would hear me. “If you’re hoping to grab the cash from the till, you’re out of luck—it’s already been banked.”

“I don’t want your stinking cash,” the gunman growled. “I want my goddamn brother out of jail. And I want revenge on the bastard who shot my youngest brother.”

His words had my gaze moving beyond the end of the shotgun, and for the first time I actually looked at him. Though he had neither long brown hair nor a thick bushy beard, this was very definitely Shaun Browning, the man who’d looked without concern into the security camera, and who was the oldest of the three brothers. He’d obviously been using some sort of basic glamor at the witch’s place, though why he’d been so confident the spell would fully protect his identity when it hadn’t actually altered his facial structure or eyes, I couldn’t say.

I swallowed heavily. “The rangers aren’t likely to release your brother. Not after three kills.”

“Oh, I think you’re very wrong,” he replied. “Especially given I now have the head ranger’s girlfriend as a hostage.”

“I’m not his girlfriend. We’re merely—”

“I don’t care if your situation is deep and meaningful or you’re simply fuck

buddies,” he growled. “I’ve learned enough about Aiden O’Connor to know he won’t risk your life.”

“A prisoner exchange won’t get you out of this reservation, though.” My voice remained loud. There was no movement, no sound, coming from the storeroom, and I had no idea if that meant Frank had left without me hearing him or if he was simply waiting for the right opportunity to help.

I hoped it was the latter. I now feared it was the former.