Gerald blinked. “Accident.”

“There are no fucking accidents. Look where you’ve put us!” Phillip’s face darkened.

Michael’s vision narrowed, and events snapped neatly into place as his stomach heaved. “You knew,” he accused his uncle, his gun shaking. “You knew what Gerald did!” Michael looked at Jamie. “I’m gonna get you out of here, princess.”

Her gaze held his, and she silently moved her lips. Don’t call me princess.

God damn. He blinked rapidly, realizing he would do anything for her. Give up any possession, any job, any friends to simply spend the rest of his life in her presence and have her smile at him with those eyes.

“Now, Michael,” Phillip said with a patient voice. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but barging into my home with a gun is uncalled for.” His uncle wore his politician’s smile, but his usually lively eyes were dead. The up and down of his emotions was unnatural.

“Uncalled for?” Michael’s head buzzed, and his limbs quivered. “This isn’t a political debate! A killer is your head of security. A killer who murdered children, stole children. My brother and Jamie’s! Your nephew! Why didn’t you do something?”

“Don’t make me hurt your beautiful woman, Michael. We can work this out.”

Michael swung his gun back to Gerald. Skin bulged where the muzzle of the gun dug into Brian’s temple. Red fury hazed Michael’s vision, and he heard Chris suck in a hoarse breath.

Brian was silent. His gaze darting between his father and Michael.

“Shoot me and he’ll slice the woman,” Gerald threatened.

Both Michael and Chris shifted their aim to the governor, who pressed the blade against Jamie’s neck. A drop of blood ran down to her collarbone. His uncle stared back at him, his eyes cold. Why does he still protect Gerald? Over his own nephew? Chris’s gun swung back to Gerald.

Michael’s mind raced. If he shot at his uncle, he could miss and hit Jamie. Either way, Gerald would shoot Brian.

If he or Chris shot at Gerald, the tattooed man’s gun could go off and shoot Brian. Phillip would slice Jamie’s neck.

There was no winning situation.

He met Chris’s eyes. A deathly fury shone in his brother’s gaze, but no answer of what to do.

For the first time in his life, Michael couldn’t take a chance. His gut wasn’t telling him what to do. There was too much at stake. It wasn’t just his life; it was Jamie’s, Brian’s, and Chris’s lives. Sweat ran down his spine, and he winced trying to clear his eyes. Fog started at the edges of his sight. He had to make a decision.

“Oh my God.” Phillip’s voice was ragged. Michael moved his gun in his direction and saw his uncle staring at Chris, his mouth slightly open. “Daniel.”

“What?” Gerald frowned and studied Chris. His eyes widened. “Jesus Christ. Where is Chris Jacobs?”

Jamie let out a breathy sob. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Michael’s heart split in pain for her.

“Chris didn’t make it,” she whispered.

“God damn it! You told me Daniel was dead!” Phillip shouted at Gerald.

The room went deathly silent. Chris met Michael’s gaze, and he knew they had the same thought. Why did Phillip care if Daniel was dead?

Both men swung their weapons toward their uncle.

“It was you,” Michael stated quietly, locking eyes with his uncle. “You ordered Daniel killed. And all those other children got caught in the middle. You had Gerald do it. He was acting under your orders.”

Phillip said nothing, and the blade bit deeper in Jamie’s flesh. She gasped. Anger flushed his face.

“Why? Why? What did I do?” Chris screamed at his uncle.

Phillip said nothing, and Chris’s finger trembled on the trigger. Brian sniffled in the silence. Chris swerved his weapon at Gerald again.

“You’re a ghost,” Chris spat at Gerald. “You’re the Ghostman who killed my friends and ruined my life. My life and my family’s lives…both of my families.”

The Ghostman gave Chris a slow smile and moved his gun under Brian’s neck, pointing it up into the child’s soft skin. “I was just following orders.”

“Gerald!” the governor roared.

“You ordered it!” the Ghostman shouted back, veins popping on his neck. “You wanted the boy dead. You said he saw you strangle that woman.”

Jamie sucked in a loud breath, and Michael stared at his uncle.

Jamie felt another drop of blood run down her neck. The bite of the blade stung, and the man behind her frequently trembled. She smelled his sour sweat under the fresh scent of soap. He’d showered recently, but it wasn’t enough. The tension sucked the oxygen from the room, and she quietly gulped for air.

The governor had found her and Brian in Michael’s vehicle. She’d been telling Brian stories, talking quietly, trying to distract the boy and massage some feeling back into her feet at the same time. Brian’s gaze had shot over her shoulder an instant before she lost her balance and fell backward out of the vehicle as the governor yanked the door open. Her hands had grabbed frantically at the SUV, but her head hit the concrete floor, and she’d stared up at an angry man.

Now she watched Michael sprawl on his knees in the huge dining room. His arms were taut as his weapon weaved between his two targets. Chris did the same gun choreography as the men shouted and threatened each other. Michael looked ready to collapse. The pool of blood by his knees slowly expanding. His entire right side was drenched in red. How badly was he hurt? Every few seconds, his arms quivered.