They picked their way through the debris to the basement stairs that led to the house. As they crept upward, Kieran said, “I already know that door is unlocked-broken. Now I just hope it doesn’t creak.”
He pushed it open with Devon hovering behind him, her breath hot on his back. The hinges protested, but only mildly.
Kieran stuck his head into the hallway that divided the kitchen from the curving staircase. He put a finger to his lips and closed his eyes, blocking out the sounds of his own breathing and his thundering heart, blocking out Devon’s labored breathing behind him.
He listened to the house.
And then he heard it. Voices. Low, conspiratorial, hushed, harsh.
He tilted his head back, his nose in the air like a bloodhound on the scent. His nostrils flared. His muscles coiled. Every one of his senses clicked into high alert.
He pulled his weapon from his waistband and prowled forward on the balls of his feet.
He moved silently toward the voices coming from the library-that scorched testament to another man’s lunacy. He held his arm out behind him to keep Devon back, but she knocked it away.
They both crouched outside the open door to the library, and Kieran pressed the side of his face against the wall. They must be inside the burned-out secret room. The voices continued, now within hearing range.
“Are you sure the doctor broad was telling you the truth?” A gruff voice, roughened by cigarettes and by hard time…and not Sammy Pelicano’s.
Pelicano answered, “You told me yourself, the old lady said something about giving it to the kid and Elena verified that. I think he has it. I warned you not to hurt him, but you had to pull that stunt with the bathroom.”
“What can I say? He saw me off Johnny Del’s old lady, and then escaped up that shaft in the wall.”
“The kid obviously hadn’t told anyone what he saw. He never even told his therapist, although he did tell her about the money. And we need him alive to find that money.”
“Well, wake him up then. The sooner we’re out of here, the better. His hot mama along with that dangerous- looking dude with the eye patch will be coming back from the city any time now.”
“No reason to think they’ll come looking here. Especially since you shot at her the other night.”
“I already told you, Sammy. I didn’t shoot at her. I’m not dumb enough to leave any bullets that can be traced.”
“No, just dumb enough to throw a Molotov cocktail through the window of a public bathroom.”
The older man grumbled. “Wake up the kid already.”
Kieran allowed one drop of relief to settle in his belly, but he didn’t allow it to ease the tension that had seized his body, the tension he’d need to take out two enemies.
He couldn’t see Michael from his position against the wall, couldn’t see Pelicano and Mrs. Del Vecchio’s killer.
But he didn’t need to see.
“Wake up, kid.”
Kieran’s blood boiled when he heard the slap, and Devon stiffened beside him. He’d been so focused on the action in the hidden room, he’d almost forgotten Devon holding up the wall beside him. He wanted her far away from here, but wrenching her away from Michael would be an impossible task.
“Wake up.”
Michael murmured and cried out.
Devon shifted beside Kieran, and he put a steadying hand on her twitching shoulder.
“Where’s the bag with the money, kid?”
Sammy’s partner cleared his throat and coughed. “We know the old lady gave it to you.”
Michael started sniffling and rage poured through Kieran’s system. His finger tightened on the trigger of his weapon. His other hand curled into a fist.
Michael’s high, clear voice rang out. “It’s outside.”
Devon sagged against the wall, and Kieran’s lips tightened into a grimace. Was Michael telling the truth? Did he ever have any money?
He slipped a sidelong glance at Devon, who had one hand clamped over her mouth. Could it be true? Devon would’ve told him.
The older man snorted. “Outside? We’re supposed to believe that?”
Michael’s voice, steadier now, continued. “Outside with the shells. I left it there ’cuz I didn’t want it anymore. Granny Del put it in my Thomas backpack.”
Kieran’s mind clicked back to his rescue of Michael from the rocks-a small figure weighed down by a colorful backpack, a backpack he claimed he’d lost.
He licked his lips. Could Michael convince these two to walk out of this room? Their greed should be enough of an incentive.
“What shells? What are you talking about? It’s on the beach?”
“On the wooden thing outside with chairs. My daddy sat in those chairs.”
The balcony. Had Michael left his backpack on the balcony that first day Kieran had revealed himself? A backpack full of money?
“His daddy?” Johnny Del’s old partner growled. “I thought he didn’t have a daddy.”
“It’s the guy with the patch, who’s probably on his way back from the city while we’re standing here wasting time. Take us there, kid, and we’ll let you go and won’t bother your mommy anymore.”
Kieran clenched his jaw. They had no intention of letting Michael go. Just like his captors hadn’t had any intention of letting him go. Sometimes a man had to take extreme measures.
The shuffling in the room sent Kieran behind one of the dust covers, where he pulled Devon in beside him. He crouched on his haunches, peering through a slit in the white cover, every muscle in his body coiled.
Sammy came through the door first, a gun dangling from his hand, shoving Michael in front of him. An older man followed, his face craggy with the lines of a misspent youth.
Kieran touched Devon on the shoulder and mouthed, “Michael.”
She nodded, and he knew he could count on her to keep their son out of danger. She’d done a helluva job for the first four years of Michael’s life…with no help from him.
As the group passed in front of the table, Kieran lunged for Sammy’s legs. He hit him in the knees with a crack, ripping him from Michael’s side.
Devon shot out like a flash and yanked Michael toward the desk covered with the white sheet.
Sammy screamed. “Go after the kid.” Then he raised his gun and Kieran smacked his arm toward the ceiling. A shot rang out and plaster rained down on them.
The older man moved in on the desk where Devon was clawing at the dust cover and trying to reach for Michael at the same time. Kieran used his body to block them from the man’s approach and then reached back and shoved Michael into Devon’s arms. “Grab him.”
As the older man barreled forward, fists first, a shot rang out.
Something skimmed Kieran’s arm, but he took no notice. Fury pumped through his system, but he’d learned to focus after four years in captivity.
He swept his arm upward, cracking Sammy’s elbow, driving the barrel of the gun toward the ceiling again. At the same time, Kieran swung his body around and landed a kick to the older man’s midsection. The man doubled over and staggered back.
Sammy squeezed a third shot off at the ceiling and then leveled the gun at Kieran. Grabbing his wrist, Kieran shoved Sammy against the table with Devon and Michael crouched beneath.
The gun felt hot between their bodies, and Sammy still had his finger curled around the trigger. Kieran’s nails bit into Sammy’s forearm until his grip slackened and a life-and-death struggle ensued over the direction of the weapon.
Devon yelled, “Look out, Kieran!”
The older man lunged at Kieran’s back, slicing his shoulder with a blade. Kieran drove his other shoulder into Sammy’s chest and the gun blasted between them.
Sammy’s blood soaked Kieran’s shirt. He spun around and ducked another plunge of the knife grasped in the old man’s hands. He grabbed one of his arms and twisted it behind him. Then in one quick movement, he stepped behind him and wrapped an arm around his throat. The man clawed at his arm with one hand, choking. Then he
