Ephraim snarled. ‘Get down, Sokolov. On your stomach. Face to the ground. I’ve had enough of you.’
Mercy tensed, every fiber of her existence screaming at Rafe for leaving the shield of the SUV.
Rafe went down on one knee slowly, his hand sliding down his cane to grip it in the middle, which she hadn’t seen him do before.
Ephraim’s features twisted with rage. ‘I said face to the ground.’
‘I’m slow,’ Rafe said. ‘I’m on disability leave, you know. Which should humiliate you, because I took you out in the airport from a wheelchair using only my cane.’
A muscle twitched in Ephraim’s taut jaw. ‘Face. To. The. Ground.’ Keeping the pistol pressed into Farrah’s temple, he straightened the arm across her throat, aiming the revolver at Rafe. ‘I am so going to love killing you.’
Panic began to swirl and Mercy had no idea what was happening. Until Rafe offered her his cane, his expression one of broken devastation.
‘Give it back to my dad, okay?’ he said thickly. ‘It belonged to my grandfather.’
‘But . . .’ Oh. It hadn’t belonged to his grandfather. Karl had made it for him only three days ago. Rafe was faking it. He had a plan.
She drew a shuddering breath. ‘Don’t do this,’ she whispered, not faking her fear.
Rafe continued to slowly lower himself to the ground. ‘Tell Gideon that I’ll always owe him for saving us that night.’
Mercy’s eyes filled with tears and she bent over, trying to pull him back up. ‘Please, Rafe, don’t do this.’ She tried to make him take back the cane, but he kept pushing it back into her hand.
‘Keep it,’ he finally snapped. ‘You might need it someday.’
And that was when she saw movement behind Ephraim. Gideon had come out of the woods and was soundlessly approaching Ephraim. Then she understood.
With Ephraim pointing his revolver at Rafe, that was one less gun pointed at Farrah. But he still had the pistol pressed against Farrah’s temple, his finger still on the trigger. If I can make Ephraim angry enough, he might point the second gun at me. Then Gideon could make his shot and Farrah would be free.
But goddammit. That was still one gun pointed at Rafe. Panic began to swell in her mind and she dug her nails into her palm again. Think. Think. Be ready for whatever happens. At least Rafe’s wearing tactical gear. Farrah has none.
‘Take off that damn helmet,’ Ephraim ordered.
Fucking hell.
One side of Rafe’s mouth lifted. ‘Somehow I thought you’d say that.’ Resting his weight on one knee, Rafe tugged at the strap holding the tactical helmet in place. ‘Anything else?’
Gideon was two feet behind Ephraim now, weapon in one hand, his other outstretched toward Ephraim’s pistol. Ephraim didn’t notice, too focused on Rafe, the revolver in his hand steady. And pointed at Rafe’s head. Rafe’s gun was out of reach and all Mercy had was his damn cane.
Keep it. You might need it someday.
I took you out from a wheelchair, using only my cane.
Oh my God. Really? She wanted to scream. This was Rafe’s plan? For her to hit Ephraim with the damn cane while Gideon wrested the revolver away from Farrah’s head?
Apparently so.
Gripping the cane in both hands, Mercy was shaking, but chanced a glance at Farrah. Her best friend’s eyes were narrowed, aware that something was going down.
‘Say goodbye, Mercy,’ Ephraim said, smiling. ‘But make it quick.’
But his smile vanished when Gideon reached for Ephraim’s wrist and bent it at an odd angle that had Ephraim howling in pain and his hand opening completely. The revolver went off as they’d feared, but it was no longer aimed at Farrah. The bullet hit the road, sending asphalt chips flying. Farrah immediately dropped to the ground and Mercy brought Rafe’s cane down on Ephraim’s other wrist, hearing a cry that sounded agonized and feral and . . .
And was coming from her own mouth as she swung the cane at Ephraim’s head, at his face, at his chest. She kept swinging and swinging.
Dunsmuir, California
Wednesday, 19 April, 5.20 P.M.
Rafe twisted back up to his knee and yanked the revolver from Burton’s now limp fingers. It had all happened in less than two seconds, but it wasn’t over yet.
Mercy was screaming at the top of her lungs. Screaming and swinging Rafe’s cane and striking Burton wherever she could. Again and again, with a viciousness that could only come from the sudden release of emotions damaged through horrific abuse.
Gideon stood frozen, his gaze locked on his sister, who swung the cane in a mad frenzy. Rafe shouted his friend’s name, but Gideon’s mind was in another place. In another time.
Oh. Oh no. Too late, Rafe realized that Gideon was coming face-to-face with the man who’d beaten him near to death the night of his thirteenth birthday. The man who’d brutally raped his mother and his sister. Oh, Gid. I’m sorry. Gideon had thought he could handle this, but . . . Who could?
Part of Rafe wanted to let Mercy beat Burton to death, but he knew she would regret that later. Other people deserved to see Burton punished. The bastard needed to face his many victims, which couldn’t happen if Mercy killed him.
‘Mercy!’ Rafe lunged for her, but couldn’t reach her from his knees.
Farrah reached for Mercy’s arm but she couldn’t extend her hands high enough with her wrists being bound with tape. She was flung backward when Mercy swung the cane again, too deep in her rage to know whose hands were on her.
‘Help me up,’ Rafe gritted to Farrah. Offering her shoulder, she gave him something to grab on to as she helped heft him to his feet. Catching the cane midswing, he handed it to Farrah, who laid it on the road and backed away as if it were a live snake. Farrah sank to her knees, trembling head to toe as the reality of being safe finally sank in.
But for the moment, Rafe was focused on Mercy, turning her in his arms. Balancing on one foot, he wrapped his arms around her and rocked her slowly. He took off her helmet and stroked her hair, pressing her face into his neck and murmuring that it would be all right. That they’d done it. They’d stopped him.
That she’d stopped him.
But he didn’t think she heard a word he said. She was sobbing uncontrollably, her legs abruptly folding, taking them both to the cold ground.
Behind him, Rafe could hear the click of handcuffs and Gideon’s hoarse voice commanding Burton to his knees, then informing the man of his rights. Seeing Mercy collapse must have been the jolt he’d needed to come back to himself.
It was over. They’d done it. Turning on his ass so that he could see Gideon, Rafe pulled Mercy into his lap, unwilling to let her go. Burton was on his knees, hands cuffed behind him. His face was bleeding and . . . Rafe swallowed. His eye had fallen out under Mercy’s well-deserved assault.