Page 22 of One Last Promise

The words landed center mass in Moose. He didn’t know why, but all this time he’d thought . . . well, he didn’t know what he’d thought, because yes, the questions had been circling, but . . .

Riggerwas Hazel’s father? Her sister’s ex? What life had Tillie lived?

And maybe Hazel hadn’t known this either, because suddenly she rounded on Rigger and, even as Moose stood stunned, the little girl hit Rigger below the belt with what seemed to be everything inside her. Rigger grunted and bent over, and then?—

Then Roz leaped at the man, and Hazel took off for Tillie, and Moose—all Moose saw was fury.

Blind, red fury, the likes of which he’d never tasted before, filled his chest, his throat, his very breath, and he too launched himself at Rigger.

Three steps across the room, and he reached the thug right as Rigger threw Roz away, slamming her against the wall.

She crashed into a coffee table and fell to the floor as Moose tackled the man, his arms clamped around him.

Moose was a good foot taller, twenty pounds heavier, but the guy was all street brawn.

Street brawn and hate.

He thundered back with an elbow jab that speared into Moose’s ribs. Moosegrunted but held on.

Then Rigger sent his fist into Moose’s thigh, and something sharp seared through him. His leg buckled and he fell.

Rigger broke free.

Moose glanced at his leg. Blood.

Rigger held a small switchblade in his grip. He shook his head, bouncing away. “Now you did it!”

He turned toward Tillie, who pushed Hazel behind her.

“Run!” Moose shouted, even as he pushed away from the wall.

Rigger dove at Tillie, but she somehow got her hand up and slammed the knife arm away.

Then, in a move that looked practiced and even professional, she swept Rigger’s legs out.

The man went down.

Moose dove on him.

Tillie turned and pushed Hazel out the door, running hard after her.

Moose gripped Rigger’s wrist with both hands as Rigger and he rolled. Rigger got a knee into his thigh and Moose grunted.

A shot to Moose’s chin snapped his head back, and Rigger ripped away from him.

Rigger bounced up, Moose rolling hard to his feet.

Moose hadn’t even bloodied him.

Rigger glanced toward the door.

“Stop!”

Moose looked over at the voice.

Roz. She stood in the kitchen, holding a handgun trained on Rigger.

Moose stood between them. “Roz. Put the gun down. Nobody gets shot today.”

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