Page 88 of The Question of Us
But Lee had other plans.
The second Marty tried to shove him against the wall, Lee lunged to the side, his arm slicing through the air in front of Marty’s face. An arc of blood splattered up the white wall as the blade in Lee’s hand carved a clean, deep line through Marty’s cheek.
Marty screamed and lurched back, both hands covering his face as he stumbled and went down. Ronnie spun to see what was happening while Freddie rushed to Marty’s side.
Aaron gave Ronnie a shove, sending the guard stumbling sideways to the floor. Lee raced to his brother and made quick work of the ankle tie, then gave Aaron a push. “Get out of here.”
Aaron took off.
With Ronnie still getting to his feet and left with a choice between following Aaron or protecting his boss, Freddie straddled Marty’s legs and raised the shotgun barrel Lee’s way. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long, long time.”
“No!” I roared, racing toward Freddie. The shotgun swung my way and a blast reverberated around the barn as we collided. Somebody cried out and I hoped like hell it wasn’t me. The force of the hit sent both of us flying backward, stumbling over Marty’s body as we half-fell, half-lurched our way closer to the pool. The shotgun clattered to the concrete floor and a few seconds later we staggered to a stop.
For a frozen moment, Freddie and I stood a short distance apart, eyes locked. I thought about running but the next second he was right there, fisting my shirt. “Oh no, sweetheart,” he all but spat into my face. “You’re not going anywhere.”
I tried to shove him away but his grip only tightened, and I cursed all those fucking muscles.
He yanked me closer, his sour breath washing over my face. “Stupid, stupid man. Why didn’t you just let it go?” He released my shirt and wrapped his huge hands around my throat. I bucked in his hold, clawing at his hands, and he continued to growl, “Your husband’s dead, you idiot.” His dark eyes hovered just centimetres from mine. “Was he really worth all of this?”
“Yes,” I managed, my words hoarse and broken. I had to distract him. It was my only chance. I shot a deliberate look over Freddie’s shoulder to where Marty sat on the floor, holding a towel to his face with Ronnie standing guard. “You’re too late,” I managed, hoping my words would unsettle Freddie enough for him to look.
It worked.
Freddie turned just enough to check behind him and I rammed my good knee up into his balls. He roared with pain and his hold loosened but he didn’t let go. I was about to try again when the sudden sound of sirens pierced the fog in my brain and the barn’s interior flashed blue and red.
Someone shouted, “No!” and the interior lights snapped off. The voice sounded like Gazza’s, but all I could see were vague shapes moving in the eerie greyness.
Using Freddie’s grip on my throat as leverage, I grabbed his wrists and spun us both around, putting his back to the pool. Flashlights criss-crossed the floor and Freddie’s eyes went wide as pandemonium broke out.
“Drop the gun and put your hands in the air,” a woman shouted. “Now, Mister Klein.”
At the sound of his boss’s name, Freddie froze and his grip eased enough for me to turn and see a man standing in the middle of the barn with a shotgun in his hands. Marty.
The woman issued another warning, which Marty presumably ignored. Two shots rang out, one after the other—the shotgun and a second smaller weapon. My heart tumbled in my chest.
Silence followed the rounds and then the lights flicked back on, blinding me to the chaos erupting around us.
Freddie’s grip on my throat tightened.
“Let him go!” the woman ordered.
But Freddie only smiled.
Then the ground disappeared from under my feet as he fell back into the pool and dragged me under.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Madigan
If my bloodpressure survived the night, it would be a fucking miracle. Pressed against the far outside wall of the barn, I waited for either the police to arrive or the security men to leave so that I could creep forward and see what was happening inside.
Nick had to be in there, Gazza too, and likely Lee. Nothing else made sense. But as I waited and waited, my patience started to run out. Forty minutes had passed an age ago. Where were the cops? Where was Angela? I’d risked calling Samuel once I was sure about the barn and he’d assured me the police were almost there and more were on their way. Paramedics as well. But it was taking too long.
I was desperate to know if Nick was okay so that I could set about planning his excruciating death for putting me through this whole fucking nightmare. But the guards seemed like they’d settled in, smoking and chatting like they had all the time in the fucking world. Unfortunately, they didn’t, but it was taking far too long for them to be made aware of that miscalculation.
Five minutes later and I was done with waiting around. Any one of them could be bleeding out inside that barn while I satoutside doing fuck all. I had to at least try to see what was happening inside. I grabbed the fence post I’d taken from a pile next to the barn and started a wide circle around the back of the Land Rover. What I thought I was going to do with it, who the hell knew, but holding it made me feel better.
I’d made it about halfway when one of the guards threw his cigarette to the ground, stamped on it, and then headed for the barn. I froze, waiting to see if the second guard followed. He didn’t, not at first, but when a scream came from inside, he pushed off the Land Rover and ran for the door. A few seconds later, a shot rang out and my world stopped.
