Eddie gasped and went for his own throat, like he'd been grabbed through the hole from behind. As he tipped backward, his head and shoulders started to fall through the opening and Marie-Terese lunged for him—only to get dragged along with him.
“The…knife…” Eddie gasped.
Everything went slow-motion as she called out over her shoulder. Thank God, Jim was already on it, racing in from the hall and going for the crystal knife that had been left on the bed. The instant the weapon got palmed, Eddie went to work, wrenching around and stabbing at something that was outside of the window.
Marie-Terese locked onto one of Eddie's legs as Jim bear-hugged the guy around the waist. While they worked together, Vin went for his gun on the dresser and spun around, pointing it at the tangle. She had faith he wasn't going to shoot unless he—
On the far side of the bedroom, through the open door, she caught sight of a man coming up the stairs. He was mounting them in silence and moving with relentless focus. As he turned his head, their eyes met..
Saul…from the prayer group. What was he doing—
The gun in his hand swung up and then around, pointing at her. “Beloved,” he said with reverence. “Mine now and always.”
The automatic weapon went off.
Vin shouted something, just as Jim threw his body in the way of the bullet: With the grace of an athlete, he sprang up into the air, putting his chest in the path of what was intended for her, his arms spread wide, his torso flat to the shooter so that he offered the greatest possible surface area to protect her.
As the sharp, loud sound echoed, Eddie fell through the window, tumbling from the room. And then a second shot rang out.
Chapter 40
Vin threw off his lethargy the moment it became clear there was trouble over at the window. He'd been halfway into his pants when he heard the scrambling, and his first thought was for Marie-Terese—except she wasn't the one who appeared to be getting strangled. Jim was quick to respond, though, getting Eddie that crystal knife and then hanging on with every ounce of muscle he had. And Marie-Terese was right there to help, doing what she could to keep the man from being pulled out by God only knew what.
Vin's first thought was to go for the gun he'd left with his clothes and he followed up on it fast. Licking the safety off with his thumb, he leveled the muzzle at the mess of bodies at the window. He had no clue what the hell he could shoot at, so he held steady—
And then the expression on Marie-Terese's face abruptly changed from one of determination to shock as she focused on the doorway.
Someone else was in the house.
Vin pivoted on his bare feet and saw the vision he'd been given in his trance play out: A man with thinning blond hair was turning the corner at the head of the stairs and lifting a gun to point it straight into the bedroom. Yes…this was it. The trigger was going to be pulled and the bullet was going to travel through the air in the blink of an eye…and Marie-Terese was going to be struck.
“No!” Vin screamed as the shot went off.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Jim leap in front of her, the man's body blocking the lead that was meant for her by taking it in the chest, the impact carrying him back and knocking her down.
Vin's instinct was to go to her, but that was not the right move. Wheeling around with his gun, he knew that he had to make sure the intruder didn't get a second shot—it was the only thing he could do to improve the chance of people surviving.
Although he had the cold, deadly suspicion that Jim was down for count permanently.
Holding his weapon steady, Vin stepped into the doorway—and directly into the face of a man who was a good three inches shorter than he was.
It was a question of who pulled their trig first, and surprise worked in Vin's favor—the shooter had naively assumed that there were only three people in the room.
Vin didn't hesitate to squeeze out a round, right into the guy's heart, and the impact kicked the man's aim off and tightened his index finger at the same time. Which meant Vin took a slug in the shoulder.
Fortunately it was the left one.
As the intruder went down flat on his back and his weapon scattered away, Vin squared his muzzle off and pumped another round and another round and another round into the guy so there was no chance the fucker was going to be able to blink, much less lift a gun.
With each shot, the man jerked, arms and legs flopping like a puppet.
“Marie-Terese, are you hit?” Vin called out as the din faded.
“No…but oh, God…Jim's barely breathing and Eddie fell out of the window.”
Blood dripped off Vin's free hand and onto the intruder's jeans as he stepped over the guy and kicked that gun all the way down the stairs. He still wasn't about to trust that the bastard was dead, though, so he trained his weapon on the paling face before him as he listened hard for more footsteps downstairs.
“Get your phone,” Vin said to Marie-Terese. “Call nine-one-one.”
“Already dialing,” she replied.
He wanted to look over his shoulder and check her with his own eyes, but he wasn't taking any chances. There was no telling who else had come into the house, and there was still a shallow movement in the intruder's chest.
As seconds drifted into minutes, Vin totally approved of the way the color was leaving the unremarkable features of the man's face, but Christ…who was he? What was he?
Although if a bullet could stop him, he probably was just a human. Marie-Terese's voice drifted across the room. “Yes, there's been a shooting at One-sixteen Crestwood Avenue. There are two men—three down…We need an ambulance right away. Marie-Terese Boudreau. Yes…yes. Yes…no, it's not my residence—”
The lids of the intruder suddenly flipped open and Vin found himself staring into a pair of pale browns that were fixated on something other than whatever was in front of him. With a stiff twitch, those graying lips started to move.
“Noooooo…” The word was extended for the length of a horrified exhale, as if whatever he was seeing made nightmares seem like sitcoms.
With a gasp and a shudder, the guy passed into the hereafter, an expression of terror freezing on his face as a line of blood oozed out of the corner of his mouth.
Vin kicked those loose legs a couple of times and then he listened hard. He could hear wind whistling up the stairs, but there were no other sounds anywhere else.
He backed up slowly, gun swinging from left to right in case somebody came up from down below or popped out of any of the doorways.
Inside the bedroom, he held his arm wide and Marie-Terese came forward for a hard hug. She was shaking, but she held on strong for the split second they were together.
“Can you do CPR on Jim?” he asked. “Or do you want to hold this gun on—”
“No, I'll take care of him.” She went over to the man, knelt down and put her ear next to Jim's mouth. “He's still breathing, but it's not by much.”
Whipping off her fleece, she wadded it up and put it to the bleeding wound on the front of the chest and pushed down while she took his pulse. “So faint…but it's beating so I can't do chest compressions. The ambulance is due in five minutes.”
Which was forever in a situation like this.
“Don't shoot,” came a groggy voice from downstairs. “It's just me.”
“Eddie?” Vin called out. “Jim's hit!”
When Eddie appeared at the top of the stairs, he looked like roadkill, and as he limped forward, he glanced down at the intruder. “That's really dead. How's Jim?”
“Good,” Marie-Terese whispered as she stroked the man's face. “Right, Jim? You're good and you're going to
