“Let’s go.” Her hand hurt like a bitch, thanks to Thad, but she kept a good grip on her Glock as she ran for the staircase.
A door from downstairs crashed open. “That shot came from upstairs,” said a familiar male voice.
A gasp flew out of Yvonne. “Ezra,” she whispered shakily.
Yes, Ezra. Looked like he’d come, after all. He’d probably taken advantage of the moment when Zander and the others had hurried out of the house to face the trespassers.
“We have to keep moving,” Gwen said.
She and Yvonne raced up the stairs to the third floor. They arrived on the landing just as Gerard came skidding out of the room near the smaller staircase that led to the attic, pistol in hand. Raising her Glock, Gwen squeezed the trigger twice, wincing as the flexing of her finger sent pain radiating through her hand and wrist. She’d aimed for his head, but the bullets collided with his arm and shoulder. Dammit. Still, the pistol slipped out of his fingers and fell to the floor—that helped.
Hearing footsteps stomping up the stairs behind them, Gwen dragged Yvonne toward the smaller staircase. She dragged too hard. Yvonne stumbled, falling to one knee on the first step.
Something wrapped around Gwen’s ankle, and she looked down to see that Gerrard had crawled toward her. He tugged hard, but she gripped Yvonne’s shoulder to steady herself and pulled the trigger. She’d aimed for his head again, but the bullet hit him in the throat. That would do. “Go, go, go.” They climbed two steps when a series of bullets thudded into the wall and the painting above their heads.
“Don’t move if you want to live!”
Gwen didn’t freeze—she was too hyped on adrenaline to do anything except run. But then the bullet-ridden painting fell off the wall and crashed on top of her and Yvonne. Glass sliced into her face, and the Glock went flying out of her hand as she and Yvonne ungracefully crumpled to the floor and, of course, went rolling down the stairs. Fuck, that hurt. Sprawled on her back, she instinctively looked for the gun and spotted it a few feet away.
“Don’t even think about making a dive for it,” warned the same voice that had ordered her to freeze. Rowan’s father, she realized. “Stay exactly where you are,” he barked.
“Now that’s unfair, Nelson,” said another voice she recognized. “You can at least let them move that painting out of their way.”
With an inward hiss, Gwen watched as Ezra climbed the last few stairs at a leisurely pace, wearing that slimy smile. Shoving the painting aside, Gwen spoke without moving her gaze from him. “You okay, Yvonne?”
Yvonne’s chuckle was short and a little hysterical. “I’ve been better, sweetheart,” she replied as she and Gwen slowly got to their feet.
Itching to act, Gwen spared her Glock the briefest glance, fingers flexing.
“Don’t be stupid now, Gwen,” Ezra cautioned.
Coming up behind him, Moira snorted. “I’m not sure she can help it.”
Awkwardly walking beside Moira, using crutches, a massively bruised Brandt scowled at Gwen. Damn, he looked bad. Black eye, broken nose, split lip, swollen jaw, bruised cheekbone, a bandage around his head.
If he were anyone else, she’d have felt at least a little sorry for him.
Ignoring them both, Gwen spoke to Ezra. “How the hell did you get a bunch of shifters to fight for you?”
Still smiling, Ezra said, “I didn’t. Our new friend Rory did.”
Rory? Son of a bitch.
“He saw his brother haul Aidan out of Half ’n’ Half and made it his business to find out who Aidan was,” Ezra continued. “It became apparent that me, Aidan, and Rory have some common enemies, so Aidan passed Rory’s contact details on to me. He and I had a very nice chat and came to an agreement that would be beneficial for us both. Rory hired the shifter mercenaries using my money. All he wanted in exchange was a shot at his brother . . . and for his brother’s female to be killed.”
Moira glared at her, eyes fairly sparkling with hate. “We’re more than happy to see you dead.”
Ezra nodded, chest puffing up. “Then justice will have been done.”
Gwen couldn’t help snickering. “Justice? You don’t even know what that is.”
“Look at what they did to me!” spat Brandt. “You think this is bad? They beat me and then healed me . . . just so they could do it all again. Over and over. The last time, they only healed me enough that I could stand up and walk out on crutches.”
“You don’t even see it, do you?” Gwen shook her head at him. “They gave you the same injuries that you gave Andie, only worse.” When Gwen had helped the cougar reach her house that awful night, she’d had to support Andie’s weight as her leg had been fractured. “It’s called karma.”
Brandt snickered. “Well, now you’re about to know how karma feels. This happened to me because of you. Now you’ll pay.”
“But first,” began Ezra, crossing to her, “I’ll take out some of my rage on Yvonne here.” His cruel smile was replaced by a glower. “I’ll beat the shit out of her right in front of you, just like your stepfather did to your mother.”
Fear scuttled down Gwen’s spine. Fear for Yvonne. Pain, Gwen could take. But knowing that Yvonne was in pain? Seeing Yvonne in pain? Hearing it? Being able to do nothing about it? No. That couldn’t fucking happen.
“Yes, Aidan told me about your childhood,” continued Ezra. “He’s been in my pocket for a long time. Sells me the secrets of those he counsels. I have a great deal of blackmail material, thanks to dear ol’ Aidan.”
As much as Aidan was a little weasel, it actually surprised Gwen to hear he’d stooped that low. She hated knowing that these people knew some of the dark facts of her childhood.
“If it makes you feel any better, he didn’t want to tell me anything about you. In fact, he even lied at first that he knew nothing at all. But once he saw you with that shifter, he snapped. Coughed up your secrets.” Ezra tilted his head. “But I’ll bet there are more. Tell me, Gwen, did your stepfather ever turn on you? You said no to Aidan, but I’m not so sure. Tell me.”
She didn’t respond. Just glared at him.
He lifted a reprimanding brow. “You need to be cooperative, Gwen, if you want your death to be a quick one.”