“Fair trial, my ass!” Ranger exploded. “They’ll let him off with a slap on the wrist, like they always do, because of who his parents are. No, not this time . . . this time he has to pay. He’s been pissing all over The Academy for years. He almost ruined this whole damned mission by running off with the goods.” Ranger jerked his thumb to his chest, flashing a gold insignia patch on his shoulder—nearly subdued by the stain of Pete’s blood. “Think what that would’ve done to my career! He doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself and this”—he waved the gun at me—“country bimbo.”
I took my cue again: “Just let him go! I’ll voluntarily go with you! Please. It’s enough to appease The Academy. Just please let my brothers and Pete go, and-and . . . I’ll do anything you want!”
Ranger stared into my pleading eyes, his lips nursing a smirk. And after taking in my bare legs and torn shirt, he cocked an eyebrow. “Anything?”
“Anything,” I ground out.
A flicker of something unexpected flashed in Ranger’s eyes—softness maybe, but I couldn’t tell because it came and went in an instant. “Well I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I can do anything I want with you anyway. And you don’t really have a say in the matter.”
Pete spoke up again. I knew he would, but I fervently wished he wouldn’t. I sensed anything he said would only make our plight worse. “Ranger, I swear to God, if you touch one hair on her head, I’ll personally kill you.”
Ranger roared with laughter, slapping his knees like he was at a Hootin Annie. “Oh Lordy! Did you hear that one, Slater?” He swiped at his eyes, then walked over to where I was sitting on the floor with Mikey, leaned over, and ceremoniously plucked a few hairs from my head.
Oh crap. I looked at Pete. He no longer looked impassive. I’d never seen him look so livid. I wished he’d take all that boiling anger and tae-kwon-do himself out the open window already. I stared very hard at him, trying to convey this very thing.
When Ranger spoke again it was to start barking orders to his sidekick. “Get the flex cuffs and secure the premises.”
I scrunched up my eyes, rocking a limp Mikey, trying hard to decide what, if anything, we could do to save ourselves. The last instinctual thing I’d done was open the window. So far the only thing that accomplished was to let in a cool breeze. Please.Please.Please, God! And then inspiration hit.
“Run, Andrew! Ruuuuuun!” I hollered with as much conviction as this life and death moment warranted. “Run for help now! Ruuu—” My voice screeched to a halt.
Ranger looked like he wanted to slap me again. “What the . . . ?”
We heard little footsteps charging through the house—Bang!—out the front door.
“Dammit! Whatareyouwaitin’for? Go after the little bastard!” Ranger ordered.
I was prepared. Right as Slater lifted his boot, I latched onto it with both hands. He kind of stumbled around and tripped over me, and was just in the process of kicking me in the head, when both Ranger and Pete came to my defense simultaneously.
“Don’t do it, Slater!” yelled Pete, lurching for him a split second before Ranger shoved Slater then Pete back. I knew it—they really did want me delivered as undamaged goods.
“Not in the head, asshole! She just had a concussion. You wanna give her brain damage?” And just when I thought there might be some good in Ranger, he followed that up with: “What good is she to us then?”
Pete had moved positions when Ranger was preoccupied. Ranger called him on it immediately, firming up his grip and repositioning the gun straight at his temple. “Give me a reason, Davenport.”
Meanwhile, Slater had peeled me off as easily as a bandage and took off after the runner. But I wasn’t worried: they’d also underestimated Andrew— not just a pretty face. He’d be so far ahead by now there was no way for anyone to catch him. I slammed the shattered slab of plywood, locking it again.
Ranger tssked me. “You’re already on my bad side, Connelly. Why are you making it so much harder on yourself?”
“I wasn’t aware you had a good side,” Pete quipped, as though unable to help himself.
Ignoring Ranger, I walked straight to Pete and stood in front of him. I stared one last time into those shining, dark eyes I loved so much, willing him to understand. “Pete, leave right now out that window. If you care for me in any capacity, you’ll go now before Slater gets back.”
“Uh . . . ‘scuse me.” Ranger waved his arms around. “I hate to break up this Hallmark moment, but there’s a big, scary man wielding a gun here.”
I whirled around to face him. “Yeah, but you won’t shoot me.” I backed up to Pete, wrapping my arms around his waist as a human shield.
“Kate, don’t do this,” Pete urged. “It’s not over.”
I began backward-walking us towards the window. “Pete, you told me to trust my God-given instincts. So I’m goin’ with my gut . . . it hasn’t led me wrong. Trust me like you asked me to trust you.”
Pete hesitated. “Kate . . .”
“That open window’s for you—your escape to freedom. It’s all over for you if you don’t go right now!” I shoved him backwards, but he didn’t move. “Please!” I begged. “If you don’t go, they win . . . everything.” My voice cracked.
“Okay, cut the crap, Kitty-Kat . . . or whatever the hell your name is. Enough of the Romeo and Juliet drama. If you don’t think I’ll shoot you, you’re sorely mistaken.” Ranger waved me back with his gun. So sure of himself. Hubris—his Achilles heel.
I faced Ranger with a face devoid of fear. Pete’s back was against the windowsill now. “Go now, Pete!” I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.
“Kate . . . ” Pete whispered my name one more time, enveloping me in a survivor’s embrace.
“Please!” My voice was gut-wrenching even to my own ears.
“If you don’t think I’ll shoot her, Davenport than you—”
I felt the briefest kiss brush the back of my head. And then Pete hopped out the window. “I’ll come back for you,” I thought he said, but it was hard to tell, because Ranger was screaming . . . and charging at me, like a bull.
“Gahdammit!—you bitch!”
But what Torro didn’t know was that the guest star was making another appearance—Pete just handed me that jagged piece of lamp he’d squirreled away in his back pocket. I whipped it from behind my back just in time for it to do its job—Ranger screeched to a stop when he saw what my hand was wielding.
He yelled several expletives, pointed the gun at my foot. “You might be the first lame PGC ever accepted into The Academy.”
“I doubt Weston will be too pleased to see you managed to mangle the merchandise after all,” I said, wondering who in the world Weston was, but taking a shot in the dark.
A sick smile grudged its way onto half his mouth, winking a dimple at me. “You’re gonna pay for this, little girl.”
I just smirked back at him (which my gut told me not to do, but I ignored).
“You think you’re pretty smart? . . .” Stalking over to the armchair, Ranger picked up the dart gun, aimed, and without further ado—shot. It emitted a loud poofing sound before piercing me, right over the heart. Stunned, I stared, slack jawed, at blazing-blue eyes before I quickly thought to remove it. Even so, I felt the effects immediately as tranquilizer-laced poison pushed into my bloodstream.