It was then Slate realized the guy was under the influence of some sort of drug. It was going to be very hard to reason with him. And it made the weapon he was brandishing all the more threatening. Aiden was obviously desperate and not thinking clearly.
“Shit!” he seethed, not lowering the weapon. “This is not going the way I’d planned!”
“Knew that text wasn’t from Ashlyn,” Slate said, wanting to keep the man talking. He had to give Mustang and his team time to get there. “It was a good attempt, but I know my woman. She never uses abbreviations in her texts.”
“Whatever. Get away from her! Go sit over there on the couch,” Aiden ordered.
“No.”
Aiden frowned. “What?”
“No. I’m staying here with Ashlyn,” Slate said. What he really wanted to do was push Ashlyn into the kitchen and tell her to run, but even though they weren’t that far from the entrance, the route was still in the direct line of fire. He’d have to keep her behind him for the time being.
“Damn it!” Aiden exclaimed. “I’m the one with the gun! Do as I say!” He was seriously agitated.
“Are you looking for James’s money?” Slate asked. “Maybe we can help you search. The sooner you find it, the sooner you can leave.”
Aiden looked confused for a second, then he sneered. “Sure, right, you’ll help me look. I’m not an idiot! The second my back is turned you’re gonna jump me. I know who you are. The old man talked about you all the time. You’re a fuckin’ bigshot Navy SEAL. I’m not taking my eyes off you for a second!”
“If you know who I am, you know this isn’t going to end well for you,” Slate said in a deadly tone.
“You’re wrong!” The words came out shrill.
“There is no money,” Ashlyn told Aiden softly.
“Hush, Ash,” Slate said, a little more harshly than he’d intended.
“No, don’t fucking hush! What do you mean? I was with James when he cashed that check a couple days ago. And I know for a fact he’s got bills all over this fucking house,” Aiden said, waving the gun around as he spoke.
“He saw you spying on him,” Ashlyn told him. “He realized you were stealing. He gathered all his cash and gave it to me for safekeeping. You looked at my texts. You had to have seen one of the last ones I sent to Slate. I deposited it in the bank this morning. There’s nothing here to find.”
Slate tensed as he saw Aiden’s eyes widen in disbelief. “No…” he whispered.
“I’m sorry,” Ashlyn said, and she truly sounded as if she regretted there being no money in the house for Aiden to steal. “Your best bet at this point is to leave. Just go out the door and get the hell out of here.”
“I need that money! I have to have it,” Aiden said, sounding seconds away from breaking into tears.
Slate subtly pushed Ashlyn more firmly behind him, preparing to rush Aiden, when the other man said, “Then I’ll just have to take you with me. We’ll go to the bank and get it back. Once I have it, I’ll drop you off somewhere and we’ll both go about our business.”
He was seriously delusional. There was no way Slate was going to let him leave the house with Ashlyn. And there was no way any of them believed he’d just drop her off somewhere, safe and sound.
“Go, Aiden. It’s over. You’ll have a head start before we call the police,” Ashlyn urged. “You can be far from here by the time they arrive.”
“No!” Aiden yelled. “No, no, no! You don’t understand!”
Slate understood that time was running out. Aiden was quickly becoming unhinged. He couldn’t wait for his team to get there. He thought about James lying still on his bed. It was possible he wasn’t sleeping, that Aiden had killed him, and the thought gutted him.
This needed to end. Now.
He shifted, getting ready to make his move—
A crash sounded from the back of the house…from the direction of the bedroom.
Aiden turned automatically to look toward the sound, the hand holding the gun dropped slightly—and Slate lunged.
Aiden reflexively pulled the trigger, shooting wildly in different directions as Slate charged, tackling him around the waist.
They both went flying backward, slamming into a bookshelf against the wall with their combined weight. The crack of Aiden’s head hitting the edge of a shelf was loud, despite the ringing in Slate’s ears from the gunshots. He could also hear Ashlyn yelling behind him, but his concentration was on mitigating the threat.
They crashed to the floor amid piles of books. When they were on down, Slate grabbed Aiden’s wrist but the gun was no longer in his hand. Looking around, he saw it lying nearby.
Aiden wasn’t even fighting him, but Slate wasn’t taking any chances. His adrenaline pumping through his veins, he lurched sideways and shoved the weapon out of arm’s reach. Then he reached for Aiden’s other wrist and pinned the man as he tried to catch his breath.
“Slate! Oh my God, you’re bleeding!” Ashlyn cried.
It wasn’t until that moment that Slate realized his arm was on fire. Looking down, he saw a dark red stain on the upper sleeve of his shirt and felt the blood begin to run down his biceps.
“Shit!” he exclaimed, flexing his arm. It hurt like hell, but the blood wasn’t spurting out, which was a good sign. “Lift my sleeve, Ashlyn. I don’t want to let go of him to look at it.”
Ashlyn stepped toward them, her face white as a sheet, and gingerly pulled up the sleeve of his T-shirt as he’d asked. There was a strip of flesh missing from his upper arm. It was painful and messy, but not life threatening.
“Is he…” Ashlyn’s words tapered off as she looked down at the unmoving man beneath him.
Slate finally realized that Aiden still wasn’t struggling. A pool of blood under his head was growing at an alarming rate.
“Fuck,” Slate said. He slowly let go of the man’s wrists and scooted back until he was sitting on his heels. Aiden remained still, exactly as he’d landed. His eyes were closed, and when Slate studied him closer, he couldn’t see his chest moving up and down.
“Not much we can do for him,” Slate said. “You want to go check on James?” He wanted her out of this room. Didn’t want her to have to look at Aiden’s dead body any longer than she already had.
When Slate turned to look at Ashlyn, he was alarmed to find her swaying on her feet. He didn’t think it was possible, but her face looked even more ashen now than it had a moment ago.
“Um…I don’t feel good,” she whispered.
Slate was moving even before her legs collapsed under her.
“Ash!” he cried as he caught her and lowered her to the floor. He put her on her back and ran his hands over her body frantically, trying to figure out what was wrong. When he brushed the left side of her chest, she let out a small moan.
She wore a black shirt, and he couldn’t see any blood, but he didn’t hesitate to lift the cotton to find the source of her pain.
For a second, Slate had a hard time wrapping his mind around what he was seeing.
There was a small hole in her chest, just below her breast.
Way too fucking close to her heart.