CHAPTER 23

Kennedy’s mind processed the danger before her body had a chance to fully respond. She slapped Anthony’s hand away when he reached out. He lunged and grabbed a handful of her hair. She barely managed to break his hold.

Scampering backward, she made it to the wall before he seized her collar and yanked her to her feet.

All those videos her dad made her watch on self-defense were a complete waste of time. How could she be prepared for something like this? How could she fight back when she only felt like throwing up or curling into a ball and trying to disappear into the air?

He tightened his hold, and her collar cut into her throat. She tried to swing herself around. He was too strong. She aimed a clumsy kick at his shin that did nothing to loosen his grip.

“You think fighting’s going to get you anywhere?”

She choked back her scream and pictured Jodie’s unconscious body being carried out of their prison. She would get the medical attention she needed. At least she wasn’t here to witness her uncle’s brutality.

White spots floated in Kennedy’s field of vision. She tried to reach back and claw at his face, but his hold was too tight. Would she pass out now, too?

She thought about the knife in her pocket. Did she dare use it? Could she ever find the intestinal fortitude? She glanced down at the blood clots on the floor. Bile rose in her throat.

“Let go of me.” She scratched at his forearm and felt like a schnauzer fighting off a grizzly.

“You should have never gotten involved in any of this.”

She tried to turn her face away from his nauseating breath.

“It was never your business to poke around in,” he snarled.

Kennedy’s head felt like it was about to float up like a helium balloon. She clutched at the front of her shirt, trying to give herself some breathing room. She could hardly think straight. The battle was lost. It had been lost the minute Anthony entered the room.

He turned his neck and bellowed out the door. “Dustin. Get over here. Now.”

The younger man appeared seconds later. “Yeah?”

“Once we clean up here, you’re going to Vermont. Take care of that Arab boy.”

Dustin nodded. Kennedy was terrified to see him leave. She would have rather faced a hundred Dustins instead of one angry Anthony.

“Jodie said they were never really together.” The words squeaked out of Kennedy’s mouth.

She felt Anthony shrug behind her. “She lied.”

Was Dustin going to go kill him, then? No, there was no way these men planned to let her live. She knew too much. She had seen too much. She thought of her parents, how devastated they would be. How long until they learned the truth? She wondered if Reuben or Willow would really grieve, or if it would only weird them out to have known the victim of a brutal murder. Her only consolation was that Jodie had made it out safely.

“Why?” Kennedy croaked. She had to get him talking more. She had to keep his mind on anything but her. She had to breathe. “Why are you doing any of this?”

Anthony’s laugh fell flat in the room. “Jodie is my niece. I love her like she was my own flesh and blood.”

There was something in his tone — something almost possessive — that made Kennedy shiver. Should she expect any less from a beast like this? It didn’t matter. As long as he kept babbling, she could inhale. As long as he kept babbling, his attention and his wrath weren’t focused solely on her.

“You know if this gets out, it’s going to hurt her dad’s campaign even more than the pregnancy would have.”

He sniggered. “You think I’m doing this to help my brother?” His words dripped with cruelty. Did men like this really exist outside of horror novels? Did men like this have souls, or were they empty shells possessed by fiends and demons, intent on wreaking havoc on anyone and anything unfortunate enough to get in their way?

“Come on. Get moving.” He nudged her forward without releasing his hold.

Kennedy glanced down and took a careful step around the bloody sea on the floor. What was going to happen now? It was like waking up from one nightmare only to fall back to sleep and dream something horrifically worse.

Anthony’s voice held a hint of malicious humor. “You know, you shouldn’t ask so many questions. One day you might learn something that ...”

His boot skidded in the puddle of blood. His arms flailed out. One foot slipped out from under him. He crashed to the messy ground, knocking Kennedy over with him. Her reflexes were quicker than his, and she jumped out of his way before he could get up.

“Don’t move.” The force in her own voice startled her. The knife was out of her pocket, out of its sheath before she could change her mind. She held it out with a shaking hand and backed another step closer to the door.

He made a move to stand, but she tightened her grip on the weapon.

“I said don’t move.”

Anthony’s eyes widened, and then he let out a laugh that rang out and echoed eerily against the walls. “Or what?”

Kennedy felt the blood drain from her face. Why had she brought a weapon into this deadly scenario? How many seconds would it take him to seize it and use it against her? Would she bleed more or less than Jodie when he was done?

Anthony narrowed his eyes angrily. “What are you going to do, girlie? Stab me to death?” Another laugh, like two pieces of silverware scraping against each other, setting her teeth on edge.

What should she do now? What could she do? She was about to risk an impossible dash out the bathroom when she heard the door by the stairs crash open.

“FBI!”A whole army of voices burst out at once. They shouted, made loud demands as a horde of boots stampeded down the stairs. How many were there? A dozen? A hundred?

“Drop your weapon!”

Two single pops sounded, and Kennedy let the knife clatter to the floor. Instinct told her to fall to the ground, but she wanted to stay as far away from Anthony as she could. She sucked in her breath and pressed against the wall.

Everything after that happened all at once. There was no slowing down the perception of time like she read about in books. First, Anthony swiped the knife and sprang to his feet. He spun around behind Kennedy and held the blade to her throat.

A second later, at least half a dozen men in dark gas masks materialized in the doorway, aiming assault rifles at them both.