Coffee dripped down Gerald’s face. The heat had stung at first, but shock had replaced the pain. Michael Brody had surprised the shit out of him in the kitchen. How the fuck did he get from Eastern Oregon so fast? Gerald had assumed he was still moping around the town looking for his girlfriend. Now he was oozing blood on the governor’s floor, looking ready to pass out.

He’d seen the recognition on Brody’s face as he spotted his tattoos. In the past, Brody hadn’t spared him a second glance. An occasional greeting, that was about it. Gerald had always been careful to keep his arms covered as much as possible. The governor had felt his tattoos were unprofessional, even for someone who worked security, and he urged him to wear driving gloves and long sleeves, especially around other politicians.

The woman must have reported that he had ink. She could have gotten a glimpse.

“Where’s Jamie?” Michael panted.

Gerald laughed.

“Where is she? What did you do to her?”

He smiled back at Brody.

“If you’ve hurt her, I will kill you.”

“Then I better keep my mouth shut for now.”

“You’re a fucking sick asshole.” Brody spit the words. “You killed all those kids.”

Gerald raised one eyebrow and sighted his weapon again. Center of mass. Brody’s right arm drooped an inch.

“I heard about the pictures.”

“What pictures?”

“The police have Polaroids of you…and the kids…”

Those pictures. “Big fucking deal.”

“What did you do with Jamie?” Brody’s gun quivered.

One side of Gerald’s mouth turned up. He saw no need to answer questions.

“Is she dead? Did you kill her, you fucker?” Brody’s arms shook violently with his question. “Where is she?”

Gerald wanted to just shoot the asshole again and be done with it. But part of his brain knew the governor would be livid. Livid at the political scandal. Right now everything that had just happened could be written off as an accident.

He needed to get Brody out of the house. Blood pooled near his knee. He could wait and Brody would be unconscious in minutes.

“What I want to know is why that bus of kids?” A different voice spoke from Gerald’s right. From the corner of his eye, he saw a man step into the dining room with a gun pointed at him. What the fuck? Gerald didn’t take his eyes off Brody.

“I’ll kill him! I’ll shoot him right now!” Gerald yelled at the newcomer. “Shoot me and I’ll have a bullet in Brody’s heart a split second later.” He had a solid wall four feet behind him. The other man couldn’t move behind him for an advantage.

“Chris. Don’t shoot.” Brody breathed hard. “He needs to tell me where Jamie is.”

“Jamie’s downstairs. She’s fine.”

Chris Jacobs? Gerald grinned. “You boys got together? You must have a lot in common.” Gerald saw Brody’s gun waver the slightest bit, relief touching his eyes.

“More than you know,” snarled Brody. “Put your gun down.”

“No, fucker! Why don’t you?” Gerald kept his gaze on Brody.

“Go back downstairs,” Brody ordered Chris. “I need to be the one to do this.”

“No, I’m going to put a bullet in his brain,” Chris insisted. “I will make him pay for what he did to me and my friends. Do you know how often I wished I was dead? While I was in that bunker and after? I’ve been looking over my shoulder all my life for this guy! And now he’s right in front of me.”

A new voice spoke. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Gerald smiled at the sound of his boss.

Thank God. Michael exhaled. Uncle Phillip had spoken from his left.

Now Gerald would back down.

Michael’s rigid stance made his muscles shake, and his right side burned like a red-hot bitch. But he wouldn’t remove his focus from Gerald. He couldn’t.

“No!” Jamie’s voice rang from Uncle Phillip’s direction.

“Here’s something for you, Gerald! Look what I found in the garage,” Phillip said. Brian shot into the dining room, tripping over his feet and sprawling in front of Gerald. “This is the shit that happens when you don’t follow orders!”

Chris leaped forward but was too late. Gerald had already snatched the boy, scrambled to his feet, and held his gun at Brian’s temple. Michael glanced at Chris, who had his gaze locked on his son and his gun locked on Gerald’s head. Chris looked stricken. His son was in the hands of his nightmare.

“Brian.” Chris choked out the name.

Michael realized Phillip had shoved the boy into the room and now had a long blade at Jamie’s neck. Her furious green gaze met Michael’s.

He stared from Jamie to his uncle. “She’s okay, Uncle Phil, she’s with me.”

Phillip had Jamie as a shield. Her eyes were bloodshot, her usually sleek hair raggedy, and she rocked on her feet like she could barely stand. Phillip met his gaze and shook his head.

Michael couldn’t breathe; his lungs had no function. No, Uncle Phil…why? He swung his gun toward his uncle and faltered. “Uncle Phil…” His uncle didn’t let go.

Michael swayed. “Let her go. It’s Gerald, Uncle Phil. Gerald is the one—”

His uncle looked at Gerald. “I can’t believe you fired a gun in my home!”