Jamie wanted to vomit. There was no scenario in her head where this ended well.

“What woman?” Michael shouted at his uncle.

“No woman.”

Jamie felt the governor’s arm tighten across her chest. She wanted to do something. Kick him or elbow his gut. Do something! She was a strong woman, but he was a large, fit man, and she’d spent the last several hours locked in a trunk with her limbs bound. She was lucky to be upright.

“You said he saw everything!” the Ghostman shouted. His pale face flushed with an odd luminescence, like his blood was lighter in color than anyone’s. Brian was holding steady. He watched everyone with his wide, dark eyes, not missing a thing. He sniffled occasionally, but Jamie was proud of her nephew. He was keeping his head.

Chris looked near the end of his rope. His feet were spread, his weight evenly balanced, and his gaze often locked with his son’s. When he looked at the Ghostman, Jamie saw death rise in his eyes.

How can he handle seeing Brian with that man?

“I’m going to get you out of here, son,” Chris said softly to Brian, ignoring the shouts of the other men. Brian tried to nod at his father and winced as the gun jammed farther under his jaw.

“Chris.” Jamie spoke. She wanted to warn him to hold still, not be a hero. But how do you say that to a man whose son is being held hostage by a killer? Instead, she just looked at him. Chris met her eyes and gave an imperceptible nod, his gaze going back to his son and the Ghostman.

He understood what she’d wanted to say.

“Shut up!” the governor yelled at the Ghostman. His body felt hot and damp through the back of Jamie’s shirt.

“You fucked up, not me. You started this whole mess.”

“You’d be sitting in prison for murder for the last twenty years if it wasn’t for me!” The governor’s voice shot up an octave on the last word. “You owe me!”

“I paid my dues. I got rid of that kid!”

“No, you fucking didn’t! He’s right there!”

What had Chris seen?

Her brother listened intently. “You’re talking about the trip, aren’t you? The trip where we went to the capitol building. I showed up at your office, and there was a woman on the floor. You said you were trying to help her! You thought I’d seen you strangle her? Is that what you thought?”

The governor sputtered.

“I saw nothing! I saw a woman who needed help, and I thought you were doing that!” Chris’s gun wavered. “You had all those kids killed because you thought I saw you kill someone? And I didn’t!” Tears poured down Chris’s cheeks. “I saw nothing! Do you hear me? You ordered your own nephew killed, and I saw nothing!” Chris wiped at his face with one hand, the other keeping the gun on the Ghost. “Ah, fuck me. All this…all this for nothing!”

Michael couldn’t breathe. Tiny spots sprouted at the edge of his vision.

Uncle Phil did this. He did it to all of us.

“Let Jamie go, Uncle Phil.” His uncle’s name burned on his tongue, but he said it on purpose, reminding the man who was in the room. His family. “Things can’t get better if something happens to Jamie or Brian. There’s no way to spin this to get the public’s support. This is over.”

His uncle clenched his jaw, and Jamie winced. Michael focused on her face, blinking, trying to clear his head of the mess he’d just learned. All that mattered now was getting her out safely. Before loss of blood had him dropping his gun.

“Put down the knife, Uncle Phil.”

“No. This isn’t my fault.”

He sounded like a defiant child.

“I’ve done valuable things for this state. Just think what might not have been achieved if I wasn’t governor. Or during my years as a representative. I am important.”

He’s nuts. A new spike of fear rose in Michael’s chest.

“That woman was nobody. The type of person who wanted to use me to better herself. Two fucking dates, and she tells me she’s pregnant? And it’s mine? I couldn’t risk it.” His uncle tightened his grip on Jamie, his pupils huge.

Something moved in Michael’s peripheral vision.

Phillip’s body slammed forward, and his head whipped back as he was tackled from behind. The momentum knocked him and Jamie to the floor, and she cried out as Michael’s father landed on top of them. The knife vanished between the wrestling brothers. Michael crawled across the floor to the group, his right arm collapsing under his weight. A gunshot thundered from behind him in the room, but his focus stayed on Jamie. He pulled up, lunged, and grabbed Phillip’s ankle. The man kicked, his heel catching Michael in the mouth. He tasted blood and spit.

The Senator straddled his brother’s back and slugged him in the right ear. Phillip thrashed, nearly throwing Maxwell Brody off to the side. Jamie twisted and shoved and pushed at the two men, trying to escape from underneath.

The knife appeared in Phillip’s hand, and he frantically stabbed backward at his brother’s thigh. Michael’s father shouted and grabbed at the knife, the blade slicing his hand. Blood quickly covered the floor and group.

Michael grabbed Jamie’s hand and tried to haul her out from under the men. His right arm screamed at the effort. His left hand held the gun, useless in his untrained hand, but he was unwilling to set it down. She rolled onto her back and kicked at both men, who fought each other on top of her covered legs.

Michael’s gaze locked on his father’s thigh. The blood wasn’t seeping; it was spurting in time to a heartbeat. Phillip had sliced the artery, and Maxwell’s heart would force the blood out of his body until it was gone.