Close Range Christmas by Nicole Helm (ebook reader for laptop TXT) 📗

He had to die for me to reach my full potential. They all did.”

Sarah tried to blink away the tears, but they were falling too fast. “I don’t. My baby doesn’t have to die. I’ll help you with whatever you need, Anth.”

“That’s exactly what she said. Our mother. Exactly the way she said it. You look just like her.” Anth raised the gun, his face marred with a horrible sneer.

There was no humanity there. No hope of reaching something in his heart. If he’d ever had any compassion or sense of right or wrong, it had long since been twisted into this.

“I killed her,” Anth said. “I had Ace killed. Killing you would be full circle, wouldn’t it?” He glanced at her stomach again. “But there is the baby to consider. I know you’re having a boy, Sarah. A boy who shares his blood with me. He could be mine.”

“You need me alive to get him.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

Sarah knew she had seconds at best. She wouldn’t be able to get a shot off, but with the right leverage she could smack him in the face with the gun. She’d have to be quick—really quick before the contraction consumed her completely.

“Did you hear that?” she whispered, looking toward the kitchen.

He didn’t lower the gun, didn’t look toward the kitchen, but his eyebrows drew together. “No.”

“Oh. Well then. Good.” Sarah tried a fake smile. The contraction was tightening, tightening.

And slowly, oh so slowly, Anth inclined his head toward the kitchen ever so slightly. On a deep breath, Sarah used all her strength to lift the gun, blanket and all, and ram it into his face.

There was a sickening crunch, a scream of pain, but her own pain was overpowering. She lost her grip on the gun and it clattered to the floor.

DEV HAD CRAWLED his way across the snow toward the house. It was pitch black, so Anth must have cut the power. He made it to the back door, knowing he didn’t have the strength to fight Anth—and didn’t have a gun to shoot him with. He was shaking—both from being cold and wet and likely from blood loss.

But if he could get inside, there were guns. There was help. Surely the women inside could fight off one man. Had he really only been one man?

A man who was deluded enough to think he could take them down single-handedly. He couldn’t. Couldn’t.

Dev heard something, a scuffle or breath expelled. Something...odd. Off. He climbed for the stairs of the porch leading to the mudroom, leading to Sarah.

But he felt something in the snow. A body. “God.” He reached out and felt what he could in the dark.

There was a low guttural swear.

“Brady?”

“Knocked us out,” Brady rasped, then swore again. “Tied us together. Sarah’s in labor. You don’t have time to untie us. Go.”

It felt all wrong to leave Brady tied up in the snow, but Sarah was in labor and there was no way to get them out of their bonds in the dark. He felt the body next to Brady and found what he’d hoped. Liza’s cell phone.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asked Brady.

“I don’t know, but I am, so that’s a good sign.”

Dev placed the phone in Brady’s hands. “If you can get some kind of SOS message—”

“I’ll see what I can do. Go!”

Dev didn’t hesitate. He moved for the house. Every ounce of his body hurt. He was so cold he wasn’t sure he’d survive this. But he couldn’t die until he knew Sarah and the baby were safe.

In labor. Labor. Too much of a distraction. Too easy for Anth to infiltrate. Dev managed to make it to the mudroom door. Based on what he could feel in the dark it had been kicked open, splintered.

Dev felt his way through the mudroom, then the door to the kitchen, which had been given the same kicked-in treatment.

He could hear the sound of voices. Sarah’s and... Anth’s. If she kept him talking, and Dev had enough strength, he could maybe sneak into the living room and tackle Dev. He probably wouldn’t win, but maybe he’d give everyone in the house a chance to help.

There was a scream of pain—a man’s scream of pain. Followed by a woman’s keening moan. Dev stumbled forward into the living room. There was a beam of light barely illuminating the far corner of the living room.

Anth was holding his face, screaming, and Sarah was writhing on the couch.

Anth turned toward Dev. Blood was gushing out of his nose—which was pointed in the wrong direction. His hand shook as he aimed the gun at Dev. But as long as he was aiming it at Dev again, he wasn’t focusing on Sarah.

“I survived, Anth,” Dev said. His vision was blurring and he wasn’t sure his legs could hold him up much longer. But if he could talk, maybe Anth wouldn’t shoot. “Isn’t that a sign? Ace would have said I was meant for more to survive getting shot. To get back here.”

“Ace was a fool,” Anth said. He spit blood on the floor, then got to his feet. “You’re a fool.”

“You should have listened to Ace. You needed a lot more than just you to take us down. You can shoot me, Anth, but you won’t make it out alive.”

“You could have been better. You could have been—”

A gunshot exploded from behind Dev. Dev couldn’t see who’d done it in the dark shadows, but Anth went down with a thud without another word.

Dev rushed forward. “Sarah.”

She was crying and she grabbed on to him. “You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay. The baby’s coming. Is he dead?”

“I think so. We need to get you to the hospital.”

“Ambulance coming. But it’s snowy and...” Sarah wiped her nose with her sleeve then frowned at him. “Dev, you’re bleeding.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I have to go get Brady and Liza. I have to... Who shot Anth?”

“I did.” It was Grandma Pauline’s voice. Frail and faraway-sounding. Dev jumped