Page 84 of Maid in Heaven

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Seventeen minutes after thecall, Will slammed his truck into park in front of Carla’s home. Barrett followed close behind in his obsidianJeep, crunching to a stop in a pile of snow right behindhim. Both menleaped out of their vehicles, Will with a solemn face, Barrettwith the crazed giddiness of a schoolbully about to pound a weakling.

Barrett bounced lightly on his feet, tennis shoes compacting the snow up the sidewalk. Will walked slowly, fists balled by his sides.

“No ass-kicking,” Will warned. “I’mnot sending Starla into the fuckin’ system because I went tojailover this guy.”

“Speak for yourself. I have no obligations. Some light bitch slappingmight be in order.”

“That’s still assault.”

“Not if I gethim to hit mefirst.”

“What if he has a gun?”

“This isWyoming.” Barrett laughed.“Ofcourse,he has a gun. Probably got a bunch of ‘em. That doesn’t mean he’s gonnauseit.Plus, I brought my own.” He grabbed both coat-coveredbiceps, one at a time. “Andthese gunsare rated ‘E for everyone.’Mr. O’Neil, meet Smith…and Wesson.”

“Cooler heads prevail here.” Will looked at the wooden front door with a mosaic glass window, one he’d walked through more than twenty times already. Shapes inside shifted, darting left and right.

He turned back to Barrett, “You remember how we got you into Mason’s partythat one time?”

A grin spread acrossBarrett’s face. “The good old E.W.?”

Will nodded.

SMASH!

Both of their attention snapped to the door as theglass mosaic exploded outwardin a spray of colored glass. An object missed their faces narrowly, hurtling out into the cold air. Will and Barrett watched the full jar of pickles explode like a green firework on the snowy walkway behind them. The men hunched down, careful to avoid any other thrown projectiles.

Barrett crouched beneath the hole in the door. “Sir? Mr. O’Neil? Someone is breaking into your car!” His powerful voice bellowed through the neighborhood.

“What?!” A man’svoice shoutedfrom inside, rising above Carla’s muffled screams. “Goddammit—”

As the man approached, Will wrenched the doorknob. He and Barrett slammed their body weight against itin unison, like battering rams. The combined force knocked the abusive prickinside to the tile floor.

Will and Barrett stormed inside.Carla screamed, her children cowering behind her in fear in the hallway, busted glass laid at their feet. Carla’s face was bruised and soaked with tears, lip busted. One of her eyes was already starting to swell shut, and a red handprint graced her throat. Her left arm hung at an odd angle by her side. Will had no doubt that if left alone, the man would have killed her.

Carla’s cries of relief were gut-wrenching when she saw the men.

Will recognized the man’s face from the pictures he’d dusted around the house.

Frank O’Neil.

What a piece of shit.

Frank groaned onthe floor, trying his damnedest to stand. Will dove, grabbing Frank’s legs and latching them together with his arms.

“Go upper!” Will shouted.

Barrettwas all too happy to oblige, pinning Frank’s arms to the floor with his kneesand sinking his full weight down.

Frank screamed.

Will looked back.“Carla, you and the kids get in either of the vehiclesoutside. Hurry!”

“You’re not fucking goinganywhere,” Frank yowled, trying to wrestlehis limbs free from the men. “Your fat ass isworthlesswithout me, and you know it! You’vegot nowhere to go! You’re fuckingnothing!”

“Shut up!” Barrett slapped the back of the man’s head so hard that his face bounced off the tile.

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