“I wasn’t in on the part at the house,” he said. “We was hired afterwards to round up the girl.”
Zane snorted. “There were two guys at the house and three following her. It was a big operation. Murder and arson.”
“It wasn’t murder.”
“Oh sure. What’s your version of events?”
“I’ll get in bad trouble if I tell you.”
Zane knew the guy was stalling and that he was also afraid. “You’re in bad trouble now,” he shot back.
“It was a setup, but it didn’t go the way it was supposed to.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I guess you’re gonna find out.”
Before Zane could work his way through that comment, the whole dynamics of the scene shifted abruptly as one of the large flowerpots from outside came crashing against the window.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Tuckerman pulled the gun from the drawer in his bedside table. He and the man fired at the same time. The thug’s aim was off, and his shot hit Zane’s left arm.
Zane’s bullet went into the man’s chest, and he fell back against the pillows.
In the next moment, Zane felt a gun poking into his back. And he knew in a flash of sick realization that someone had come into the house behind him.