Page 79 of No Rules
No one was outside, and a quick check confirmed none of the windows in the main house looked out on this side of the farm. He gestured at Alex, who stayed on his heels as they snuck past the stalls and approached the house. An eerie silence hung in the air like a malevolent fog, and his instincts kicked in.
He cautiously moved toward the porch, motioning for Alex to follow. As they got closer, the muffled sound of raised voices reached their ears. Ryan peered through the cracked door, and his heart skipped a beat. Jeffries was holding Marilyn and Sam at gunpoint, his face twisted with rage. “I will fucking kill you, you fucking bitch!”
Shit.
He turned to Alex and made the gesture of making a call. “Nine-one-one,” he mouthed.
Alex nodded and ran back to the stalls. Smart. That way, he’d be out of hearing range. But would the cops get here fast enough? Ballston Spa fell under the Saratoga County Sheriff, not the Saratoga Police. They had a station in the charming little town of Ballston Spa, but how quickly would they get here? Ryan didn’t doubt Alex would convey the urgency of the situation, but for all they knew, the nearest deputy could be a fifteen-minute drive away. Did Marilyn and Sam have that much time? Jeffries had bound their hands, and they were defenseless against him.
He had to try and talk Jeffries down. The man was too agitated, getting more and more wound up. Maybe he was high on something? It wouldn’t surprise Ryan. But he’d never forgive himself if something happened to Marilyn and Sam while he stood here, waiting for the cops to arrive. No, he had to see what he could do. And he didn’t have the time to wait for Alex.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan steeled himself for the confrontation ahead. The stakes were high, and every second counted. He stepped forward and pushed open the door. “Let them go, Jeffries,” he called out, trying to draw the man’s attention away from Marilyn and Sam. “You don’t want to add any more mistakes to the ones you’ve already made.”
Jeffries spun around but kept his gun trained on Marilyn and Sam. Dammit. “Who the fuck are you?” His gaze fell on the gun Ryan aimed at him. “Oh, wait, you must be that PI who’s been going around asking everyone these fucking questions.”
If Jeffries already knew, Ryan saw no reason to deny it. “Yup, that’s me. Ryan Mason, former homicide detective from Austin.”
“Austin? You shoulda stayed in Texas, asshole, and minded your own business.”
The air in the room was thick with tension, the acrid smell of sweat and fear filling Ryan’s nostrils. Every muscle in his body was tensed, ready to spring into action at a split second’s notice. He had to be careful though. One wrong move could spell disaster for Marilyn and Sam. “Yeah, well, that ship has sailed. I’m here now, and I’m a witness to whatever desperate plan you’re trying to execute, Jeffries. The cops are on their way. Put down the gun, or this will end badly.”
“Shut the hell up!” Jeffries snarled, his eyes wild as he grabbed Sam by the shoulder, yanked him in front of him, and pressed the gun against Sam’s temple. “You think you can just waltz in here and tell me what to do? You know nothing!”
“Jeffries, listen to me.” Ryan forced himself to remain calm despite the pounding of his heart. “Killing Sam or Marilyn won’t solve anything. It’ll only make your situation worse.”
“Like I give a damn!” Drops of spit flew from Jeffries’ mouth. “This is all her fault. If the stupid cunt hadn’t stuck her nose where it didn’t belong, none of this would’ve happened.”
Desperate fear filled Sam’s eyes, and Marilyn trembled, her face pale as a ghost. The weight of their lives rested on Ryan’s shoulders, and he couldn’t afford any missteps. His first goal was to buy time. “Look, we can work this out. Just let them go, and we can talk about it.”
“Too late for that,” Jeffries growled, his finger twitching on the trigger. Ryan’s stomach churned. Nothing he said seemed to have any effect other than making Jeffries angrier. If Jeffries wasn’t willing to talk now, how would he respond when the cops showed up? His words slid off Jeffries like the man was made of Teflon. He wasn’t getting through to him, and he was running out of options.
“You’ll go away for murder,” he said. “Is that what you want? To spend the rest of your life in prison?”
“I’m going to prison anyway because of you, so I might as well take my revenge while I have the opportunity.”
“You’ll get maybe ten years for killing Sam’s Promise, but if you kill any of us, you’ll be there for life. Is that really worth it?”
“At least I won’t be the only one suffering.”
Ryan caught movement behind Jeffries through the windows. The cops? No, Alex. He stood there, gun in hand, meeting Ryan’s eyes. Waiting. Waiting for Ryan to give the “go” signal.
Shit. Alex was the only one who could take Jeffries out, but not while the man had Sam in front of him. If Alex took the shot now, he’d hit Sam as well. Ryan needed to turn Jeffries just a little. Not so much he’d spot Alex, but enough for Alex to have a better angle. He wouldn’t miss. Ryan didn’t have any doubt about that, not after what he’d seen at the shooting range.
“I understand how angry you are,” Ryan said placatingly, taking a small step sideways. “Trust me, I do.”
“What the fuck do you know?”
Another small step. More of a shuffle, really, and Jeffries didn’t seem to notice. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe you’re right, and I have no clue what’s going through your mind. So tell me.”
“You want to know what’s going through my mind?” Jeffries moved his hand away from Sam’s temple. “I’m furious. Enraged. More pissed off than I’ve ever been in my life.”
Ryan inched a bit farther sideways. “Because you lost all that money.”
“Because thanks to that cunt”—he gestured at Marilyn with the gun—“I lost everything.”
Almost there. One more step. “And you had it all recouped with your winnings, betting against Sam’s Promise.”
Jeffries frowned. Was he picking up on the fact that Ryan had moved? But then he did what most humans did without thinking about it. He angled his body toward Ryan as he addressed him, turning sideways just enough. And he had the gun trained at the floor, still gesturing wildly with his other hand. “I had it planned perfectly. One race. One race was all I needed to get back into the game. But you had to ruin it, didn’t you?” He pointed at Marilyn. “You just couldn’t keep your fucking nose out of my fucking business.”