Her head shouted at her to do something.
Turn and run back down the hallway.
Lift the gun in her hand and squeeze the trigger.
Instead, she stood glued to the spot until Nesbitt reached the first floor.
His eyes locked with hers, shock clear on his face to see even in the dim light. Shock turned to anger only to quickly be replaced by fear as his gaze dropped to the gun in her hand.
Before Kyla could blink, Nesbitt turned and ran toward the back of the house. Even though she knew it was stupid, Kyla followed.
Nesbitt raced through the kitchen and out the back door onto a stone patio area. Ornate lamps lined the edges of the space, bathing everything in a soft glow. In addition to a fire pit, there was a bar and fancy stainless grill, but Kyla was so focused on Nesbitt she barely noticed any of it. Rage that had been building all day consumed her, the thought of him getting away now too much to even contemplate.
“Stop or I swear I’ll shoot you right now!” she shouted.
Kyla doubted the threat would stop him, so she was surprised when he halted and turned around, raising his hands in the universal sign of surrender.
“Don’t kill me,” Nesbitt said, his voice pleading, his eyes full of fear.
For some reason, the idea of him looking at her like she was the bad guy here pissed her off more than she already was. Bringing the gun up, she pointed it straight at the center of his chest, her finger wrapping around the trigger. A little voice in the back of her head repeated the warning from the old man who’d sold her the pistol about not pointing it at anyone you weren’t ready to kill. She ignored the reminder and took a step closer to Nesbitt.
“Why shouldn’t I kill you like you killed my father?” she demanded.
Nesbitt shook his head, his gaze flicking back and forth between her face and the barrel of the gun. “I didn’t kill your father,” he said softly, like he was afraid anything louder would make her even more furious. “I wasn’t even in San Diego that night.”
“It doesn’t matter. We both know whoever pulled the trigger was doing it on your orders.” She moved another step closer, her finger tightening on the trigger of its own accord, making the barrel quiver. “You paid Nestor Stavros to murder him.”
Nesbitt took a step back, trying to put more distance between them, but the fancy stone and wood railing around the patio kept him from getting very far. “It wasn’t like that. Yes, I hired Stavros. But he was only supposed to scare your father into changing the results of his investigation. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”
That sounded like complete and utter BS to her, but before she could tell Nesbitt that, he continued.
“I swear it’s true. Stavros set me up for your father’s death.”
“Why would he do something like that?”
“I don’t know, but it’s the only thing that explains why he’d kill your father with a weapon registered to me then put it back into the safe in my office.” Nesbitt sighed. “That’s why I’ve had my lawyers dragging the trial out for months even though I had an alibi. I was trying to find out why a man who was supposed to be working for me was instead trying to have me put in prison for life.”
There was a part of Kyla that half believed Nesbitt, but then she remembered he made a living out of looking people straight in the eye and lying his ass off. Just like he was doing now.
“Do you think really I’m stupid enough to believe any of that?” Kyla asked softly. Somewhere between pointing the gun at Nesbitt and now, a calm had taken hold of her. She was ready to do what she’d came here for. “You can spin this anyway you want, but regardless of what you say, at the end of the day, you had a hand in my father’s death. And if the legal system won’t make you pay, then I will.”
Moving nearer, she steadied the gun with both hands and started pulling the trigger.
“You don’t want to do that,” a soft voice said from behind her, and Kyla knew without looking who it belonged to.
“They’ll be no way to cover it up and you’ll be the one who goes to prison, not him,” Wes added. “Is that what you really want?”
Grip tight on the gun, Kyla moved a little to right so she could see Wes out of the corner of her eye while still keeping most of her attention on Nesbitt. She had no idea how Wes knew she was there, but him showing up wasn’t going to change anything. She couldn’t let it.
“If I go to prison, it will be worth it.” She glanced at Wes, the worried look on his face almost enough to make her rethink what she was doing. But she firmed her resolve. “You should leave. I don’t want you to get involved in this.”
But instead of leaving, he moved closer, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Please don’t do this. I know you think it’ll help you feel better, but I promise you it won’t. Afterward, you’ll be stuck living with the consequences. Your father will still be dead and you’ll miss him just as much, except now, you’ll be in prison and your mother will have lost both of you.”
Of all the stuff Wes had said, the part about her mother was the one thing that hurt the most. She hadn’t given a single thought to what all this would do to her mom.
Hands trembling, she took her finger off the trigger and slowly lowered the gun. Then Wes was there, carefully taking the weapon from her. A few feet away, Nesbitt was regarding her with something that might be compassion in his eyes.
“I’ll testify against Stavros,” he said.
Wes looked at him sharply. “Why would you be willing to do something like that now when you wouldn’t before?”
“I wasn’t lying when I said Stavros killed her father and set me up to take the fall.”
Nesbitt opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out. A moment later, he stumbled backward. Kyla stared in confusion as blood ran down his face and along the side of his nose. That’s when she saw the bullet hole in his forehead.
Before she could even wonder who shot him, Wes’s arms were around her and he was hustling her toward one of the stone stanchions that supported the railing. A split second later, a bullet slammed into the stonework near her head. Chips of rock peppered them and she let out a little scream as another bullet hit the big picture window behind them, shattering it.
Cursing, Wes urged her closer to the stone stanchion. Gun in hand, he went up on one knee, firing out into the darkness.
Everything slowed as Kyla glanced over at Nesbitt. He was lying on the patio, staring at her with lifeless eyes as blood still trickled from the bullet wound. She shuddered. Was that how her father looked right after Stavros killed him?
“Do you have another magazine?” Wes asked.
She flinched as another bullet hit the concrete near them and skipped off into the back of the house. “Another what?”
“Do you have more ammo?” He fired toward the wood line beyond the patio again. “I’m almost out.”
When she shook her head, Wes frowned. “We can’t stay here. Once I’m out of ammo, we’re dead. On my say, we’re hauling ass for the house. You go first. I’ll cover you.”
Meaning that any bullet coming her way would have to get through Wes first. She didn’t like that idea at all.
“On three,” he said when she opened her mouth to argue. “One…”