never thought they were killers. He never thought his brother could become that.
“I told you,” Zane grumbled, as though he could read Reid’s mind, “I ain’t a woman killer.”
That was good to hear. He knew what kind of man Sullivan was. He was without a code. Nothing was off-limits for him. But Reid
had thought his brother was better than that. Their grandfather had been a good man. Reid had thought they spent enough time
with him for some of his goodness to rub off on Zane.
Rowdy kicked his boots up on the seat of a neighboring chair. “Man, you need to grow up. What did you think was going to happen?
You were standing right next to me when Sullivan said what he wanted done to her. Besides, she’s seen all of our faces. We
just gonna hand her back at the end of this and call it good?”
Reid already had that same thought. They weren’t acting like men who were trying to protect their identities around her.
Zane gave a reluctant nod and scratched his scraggly attempt at a beard.
Rowdy cracked open a jar of queso and swirled his finger inside the orange goop. Sucking his finger clean, he looked at Reid.
“If you want another go at her, you better hurry up, man. Looks like I’ll have to do it. Zane has never had the stomach for
this.”
Reid knew Rowdy wouldn’t blink over ending her life, especially if that’s what Sullivan wanted. That guy always followed Sullivan’s
dictates. For all that, it felt like he had swallowed a box of rocks. Reid kept munching on chips, clinging to his poker face
and acting like this didn’t touch him.
His mind raced, groping, searching for something to say to knock Rowdy off this path. “She’s the president’s daughter. You
really want to off her? That’ll get you the chair.”
Rowdy’s lips curled. “I’m not scared.”
His brother went pale. “I don’t know. I’m having second thoughts, man.”
“There ain’t no going back now. Might as well go rough her up like Sullivan wanted.” Rowdy started forward.
Reid’s hand shot out to push on his chest, stopping him. “He wanted her abused for days. If her body turns up later today,
he’ll know you didn’t listen to him.”
“What do you suggest?” Rowdy demanded, thrusting his chin out at a belligerent angle.
“Take her someplace else . . . go to ground with her. Head west.” Reid nodded at his brother. “Our grandfather had that house
in the mountains. Use it,” he suggested, still trying to act like he didn’t care that much. Right now his goal was simple:
delay them from killing her.
Rowdy glanced around the house, his gaze pausing on the guy near the door snoring beside his own vomit. “Guess we could send
Mike off with her.”
Thankfully, his brother snorted at that proposition. “Mike? He can hardly take care of himself. Even with a map he probably
couldn’t find the place.”
The two of them started debating who should go, who should take the First Daughter out west. To the middle of nowhere. Isolated
from the world. Which dangerous, drugged-out criminal among them would be alone with her and have her totally at his mercy?
A bitter taste coated his mouth. The promise he’d made to Grace ran over and over in his head as he stood there holding a
bag of chips in his hands. Before he could even think about what he was saying, he heard himself speak. “I’ll do it. I’ll
take her.”
Seven
Grace didn’t wait for daylight to get dressed again in her badly wrinkled clothes. Dressed, she sat on the edge of the bed,
hands clutching her knees as she stared at the closed door, and tried not to jump at every sound that came close to the door
barring her from a room full of criminals. Her knees bounced anxiously until darkness faded. She wondered what was going to
happen to her. Wondered if the Secret Service were closing in even now. Wondered what her parents thought had happened to
her. Holly must be out of her mind. Even Charles had to be
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