Swamp Sniper (30 page)

“What?” Tony’s voice inched up a couple of octaves, and I could tell this was unwelcome news to him. “When?”

I froze, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard. What FBI agent? And why would Paulette talk to one? Blackmail was illegal but the small-town stuff Ted had pulled was hardly the sort of crime that interested the FBI.

“She did it the other day, when you weren’t looking,” Ritchie said, sounding smug. “Point is, you didn’t have control over the situation and the boss asked us to make that right. So we did. Maybe it was messier than you like, but if you’d been doing your job and kept Paulette under wraps, you wouldn’t be in this position.”
 

“Jesus Christ,” Tony said, sounding a lot less cocky than before. “Couldn’t you at least have gotten rid of the body in a way that it wasn’t discovered? I had people convinced she’d returned home.”

“How were we supposed to know she’d be a floater? We weighed her down.”

“You weighed her down in someone’s favorite fishing hole. She didn’t float—they pulled her up on an anchor. And even if the fishermen hadn’t found her, that bayou has a huge current that churns the water like a tornado.”

“It’s a little late for an environmental lesson, isn’t it? Look, no one here can track you, right? You did everything under your alias, so hop in your stolen rental car and disappear. How are they going to find you? Mikey and I are out of here as soon as we finish tearing this place apart.”

I slipped my hand in my pocket to retrieve my cell phone. I still hadn’t figured out what was going on, but I was certain that the men who’d killed Paulette were inside and that was enough for me to call for backup. I had just started my text to Gertie and Marie when I heard a creak above me.

Before I could react, I heard a voice above me.

“Don’t move, bitch, or I blow your head off.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I looked up enough to see the second man from the church, Mikey, aka The Screamer, leaning out of the upstairs window, his nine-millimeter leveled at my head. “Yo, Ritchie!” he yelled. “We got a problem out back.”

A couple of seconds later, the back door flew open and Ritchie and Tony stormed out onto the porch, guns drawn. They both drew up short when they saw me.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ritchie asked.

“That’s the bitch that was following us the other day,” Mikey said. “I told you someone was following us.”

I was certain I hadn’t followed Ritchie and Mikey anywhere, but I was pretty sure they wouldn’t believe me.

“Well, she’s done following now,” Ritchie said and waved his gun at me. “Throw that cell phone onto the porch and get inside. No sudden moves or I kill you right here.”

I was positive he planned on killing me anyway, but right now it was three weapons on me and no way could I drop my cell phone, draw my nine, and shoot all three of them before one of them tagged me. At this point, going inside and waiting until I had a better advantage was the better option. These guys were thugs, but I was a trained assassin. If I stayed cool, I’d find an opportunity to escape.

I tossed the cell phone on the porch, lifted my hands, and walked up the porch and into the living room. Tony picked up the phone and followed us inside. Mikey ran downstairs as Ritchie closed and locked the back door, then pushed the window down and closed the blinds.
 

“Anything?” Ritchie asked Tony.

Tony shook his head. “Only a couple of numbers stored. All the texts have been deleted.”

“Keep your hands up,” Ritchie said and motioned to Mikey to search me.
 

“What do we have here?” Mikey asked as he pulled my pistol from my waistband.

“What agency are you?” Ritchie asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. “I’m a librarian. I’m just visiting for the summer. You can ask anyone.”

Ritchie glared. “You want us to believe librarians run around with that kind of piece tucked in their pants?”

“Librarians who live in Sinful do.”

“This is a waste of time,” Mikey said. “She’s not going to talk. None of them do.”

“What the hell are we going to do with her?” Tony asked. “This is getting out of control.”

“Throw her in the pantry with the other one,” Ritchie said. “We’ll deal with them when we’re ready to leave.”

“And that will be?” Tony asked. “We’ve got to get out of here before the cops get here.”

“Another couple minutes to finish tossing upstairs and we’re out of here,” Ritchie said.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Tony said. “For all you know, the feds could be on their way.”

“Well, if they are, she didn’t call for them,” Ritchie pointed out. “You said the phone is clean.”

“Yeah, but who’s saying she works alone?”

Ritchie’s jaw twitched and I could tell he was getting annoyed with Tony’s completely logical arguments. “Finish up the toss, Mikey. I’m not leaving this house without doing the job. I care what the boss thinks.” He stared at Tony, his expression clearly indicating his opinion of Tony’s dedication to his job.

Tony grabbed me by the arm and shoved me into the kitchen. A chair was wedged under the pantry doorknob and he tugged it away, then pushed me inside. I tripped over something large on the floor, and clutched the shelves to keep myself from falling. I felt the walls for a light switch and was about to decide there wasn’t one when I felt a tickle on my neck. I reached up for the string and pulled, illuminating the small walk-in pantry.

Then I stared in amazement at what I’d tripped on.
 

Bobby lay in a heap on the floor, partially leaned against the back wall. I dropped down and checked his pulse. It was steady, but his breathing was shallow. I pulled him forward a bit and felt the back of his head, easily detecting the huge knot. Someone had clocked him good. He was alive but unconscious.
 

As I leaned him back against the wall, I saw the edge of something peeking out of his shirt pocket. I reached inside and pulled out a thin leather wallet. I already had an idea what I would find when I opened it, but it was still a tiny bit surprising to see the identification.

Bobby Morel. Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Ted hadn’t left New Jersey to escape his trial for extortion. He’d made a deal with the prosecutor to testify against bigger fish, and the FBI had tucked him away in Sinful, thinking no one would ever find him. How the FBI had selected Sinful in the first place was still a mystery as Bobby was in the military when Ted and Paulette were ensconced here, but it was no mystery to me that the agency had sent Bobby to check on things now. He was the perfect choice.

But the big question remained—had the family killed Ted? Or had Lyle done the deed and they’d found out after the fact and come to Sinful to confirm?

I blew out a breath. None of it mattered at the moment. The only thing that mattered was getting out of this pantry alive and conveying everything to Carter. I felt Bobby’s waist, but his holster was empty. I figured as much. Then I moved to his legs and could hardly control my excitement when I found his backup weapon still strapped to his ankle.

I pulled the pistol out and checked the clip. It was full, but I was still at a huge disadvantage with three of them and only one of me. I could easily take out whoever opened the pantry door, but with no way of knowing the position of the others in the house, I would be completely open to attack from the remaining two men.
 

Ted and Paulette’s kitchen had an island that separated the kitchen from the living room. If the other two men weren’t in the kitchen, I should be able to dive behind that island and use it for concealment, but it wouldn’t offer much in the way of cover. A bullet would probably tear right through the wood, but I could only hope the contents eliminated or slowed down an exit.

And then there was the problem of Bobby. His body was centered directly on the back wall of the pantry. If whoever opened the door shot low, they hit him center mass, but the shelves and contents prevented me from moving him to the side. Finally, I settled on pushing him over and dragging him down more until he was only elevated a foot or so. That was the best I could do.

I crouched at the edge of the doorframe, as far back from the opening as the shelves would allow, and listened, trying to determine where the men were. Footsteps echoed overhead, so I figured Mikey was still up there finishing up. At first, I couldn’t hear Tony or Ritchie, but then I heard a door creak close by in the kitchen and heard muffled voices. My best guess was they were in the garage, preparing their vehicles for getaway.

A minute later, the door opened again and I could hear them clearly.

“What about the agents?” Tony asked. “Do we take them with us?”

“Since the locals have Paulette’s body, I don’t see the point in hiding anything. I say we take care of them here. That way, we don’t have to make any stops on the way back.”

“Do you have a suppressor?”

“No, use a pillow or something. I’m going up to get Mikey. If he hasn’t found anything by now, no one else will either.”

I felt something move near my foot and felt my pulse spike a bit before realizing it was Bobby starting to stir. I glanced down and saw his eyelids flutter a couple of times, then close again. I hoped he didn’t pick the middle of the fray to sit up and try to get his bearings, but there was nothing I could do about it.

I tightened my grip on the pistol and slowly let out a breath, focusing every ounce of attention on listening for Tony. Timing was the difference between living or dying, and I sure as hell wasn’t planning on the second option.

I heard footsteps on the stairwell and assumed Ritchie was headed upstairs to round up Mikey. Then I heard the light steps on the kitchen floor and the scraping of the chair being pulled out from under the doorknob. I said a silent prayer and leveled my pistol at the door.

A second later, the door flew open and I fired.

The element of surprise was definitely on my side. Tony stumbled back, clutching his chest where my deadly shot had entered. He lifted his arm to fire, but I put another bullet in his head and he dropped like a stone, firing off a shot as he dropped. The shot whizzed by, missing me, but I heard a cry behind me and figured Bobby had gotten the worst of it. With no time to worry about Bobby, I scrambled for the island, grabbing Tony’s weapon as I went by.
 

Footsteps thundered down the stairs and I slipped to the far corner. The stairs weren’t in my line of sight and there were two entrances to the kitchen—one down the hallway and one through the dining room. I could see into the dining room, but I couldn’t get a clear view of the hall without exposing myself.
 

I slipped to the edge of the island, figuring they’d split up and come at me from both sides. I’d pick off whoever came at me through the dining room, then hope I could get the jump on the man in the hallway.

The house went eerily quiet, but I knew they were inching toward me. The occasional creak of the hardwood floor gave me a progress report, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I launched.

One second. Two.

A shadow appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room and I leveled my pistol at the door. When Mikey peered around the opening, I fired off a round. He cursed and ducked back around the corner.
 

Damn it!

I’d just winged him. The threat still remained.

I could feel my heartbeat in my chest and worked to better control my breathing. Something as small as your own heartbeat could easily drown out the sound of your target approaching.
 

I heard the floor creak at the end of the hall and a bullet ripped through the island, coming only inches from me. I put my pistol around the corner of the island and fired back, but with no way to sight my target, I knew I didn’t have much chance of landing a shot.
 

Before I could plan a second shot, I heard a crash behind me and whirled around in time to see Bobby, on his knees with blood streaming out of his shoulder, slam the kitchen chair that had been propped under the doorknob directly into Mikey’s crotch. Mikey doubled over, dropping his gun, which slid across the kitchen away from Mikey. I whistled and as soon as Bobby glanced my way, I slid Tony’s pistol across the floor to him. He grabbed the gun and leveled it at Mikey.

I heard Ritchie running down the hallway and it only took a second to realize the footsteps were moving away from me, not toward. I jumped out of my hiding spot and took off down the hall. No way was I letting him get away.

I’d just reached the front door when a gunshot blast brought me up short. I heard Ritchie yell and peered out to see him laid out in the front lawn, clutching his rear, his weapon several feet from his reach. I looked up and saw Gertie hobbling across the street, a shotgun leveled at Ritchie’s head. A second later, police sirens sounded in the distance.

I dashed back inside to make sure Mikey was secure and found Bobby standing over him in the kitchen, clutching Tony’s pistol in one hand and holding a dishrag to his shoulder with the other. Mikey was slumped unconscious against the dining room wall, clutching his side, blood pouring through his hands.