Page 73 of Waiting in Wyoming
Kurt had bragged about hurting Brandt’s sister. Laughed about hurting her and Heather that night. Made crude jokes about Powell and Heather that Brandt would never forgive. Kurt had been one of the men who had abducted his sister and Heather. Who had beaten Heather almost to death when she’d protected Brandt’s pregnant twin sister. He’d boasted about beating that hot cop almost to hamburger and how good it had felt to show her who was boss.
Kurt was going to pay for that. For every moment Powell and Heather had been hurt and missing, for every instant Brandt’s parents had been hurt a week later, for every drop of blood Brandt’s future brother-in-law had shed protecting Powell that night. For every minute Heather had spent in a hospital fightingfor her life, while her daughters needed her. And for every second of fear Meyra was feeling right now.
Kurt was going to pay.
Vengeance had waited long enough.
“Dude’s doped, man. He’s not going to do a damned thing to stop us. Besides, gun’s only got three bullets left in it. Can’t kill all of us. Who is feeling brave, tonight?” another man said. He wasn’t anything special. He would go down easily enough.
He was grunting as he dragged an older man into the room.
The older man groaned. He was still alive then.
“This dude is fat. Someone fucking help me. This dude is like a hired killer, right? How? Can he even make it up the stairs?”
Kurt was obliging—after he wrapped Brandt’s fingers around the grip of his own gun.
Well, well, well, how helpful.Brandt used every ounce of control he had to act like he was still drugged, to let the gun drop just a little. Of course, Kurt had to readjust it. To make it look good and everything. For the damned autopsy.
Just enough resistance…yes…
He tightened his fingers around his gun. Brandt had the gun now. With three bullets. The idiots had just given it to him. Didn’t the dumbasses deserve what they were going to get?
He was going to make each bullet count.
“Someone is going to have to shoot Barratt with this old guy’s gun. And the girl. I don’t want to be the one to off her. We used to be pals in school. I got rules against that,” the nasal-toned loser said. “So who is going to do it?”
“Take her out back and tell Will to do it before he takes off,” Kurt said. “Didn’t realize you were such a pussy about killing a woman. You growing soft?”
“Fuck off. I don’t have no problem killing women—just…Ilikedthis one, okay? She always treated me good back then. And Will won’t off nobody. Too much of a pussy.”
“Tell Toby to do it. He’s out back with the truck,” Kurt said. He was apparently a second-in-command here.
But it was the older man that Brandt was going after next. As soon as Meyra was safe, that son-of-a-bitch was going to pay for everything he had done.
Every sin he had ever committed.
Starting with putting his hands on Meyra.
The man was on borrowed time.
64
Brandt’s momentcame when the asshole Kurt leaned over him for the last time.
It took him no more than two seconds to lash out with the gun in his hand. The metal slammed into Kurt’s skull. And made a sickening crack.
Brandt was a damned strong man, dangerous. He’d made sure of it.
He’d hit hard enough—Kurt was probably never going to get on his feet again.
Brandt grabbed the unconscious man and flung him. Pulled himself to his full six-foot-six frame.
And looked at the two men staring at him now.
The one cursed and brought up the gun in his hand. Pulled the trigger.
Brandt was already moving. He felt fire cross his arm, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. Brandt pulled the gun in his hand up and made every bullet count.