ONCE GIBSON HAD the girl subdued, the boy toy, Micah, was no problem, not at all. A bit of a letdown, in fact, how easy it was to control him with just a twitch on the noose around Morgan’s unconscious throat. They drove out past the mall, first passing some light industrial parks, then a few downtrodden mobile home communities, finally turning off the main road and heading up into forests peppered with a few scattered small farms, each more isolated than the last and most all of them abandoned, awaiting either foreclosure or demolition.
He directed Micah up the gravel drive to the house he’d found for Clint and the two brothers. It was his mom’s uncle’s before they had to put him in a nursing home two years ago, but he refused to sign it over for the family to sell, so it sat empty. As if it’d just been waiting for Gibson to put it to good use.
The car hadn’t even stopped before the door from the house banged open and the older brother rushed out, shotgun at the ready.
“Just me, just me,” Gibson called as he opened his door, one hand still gripping the two cables that tethered his prisoners. “Brought you some appetizers before tonight’s main event. Are Clint and your brother here?”
“No. They called, said you’re to meet them at the staging area. Said you should take the Toyota, they’re in the SUV.” The brother pushed past Gibson and yanked open the driver’s door, aiming his shotgun at the guy and then Morgan. “She dead? Clint’s not gonna like that.” He whirled on Gibson, the shotgun following the motion. “You better not have ruined this deal for us. If she’s dead, Clint won’t pay—”
“She’s not dead. Just a little chemical restraint.”
“What the hell you thinking, bringing her here? Clint said—”
“Think about it. If you have her, it guarantees you the money.” Gibson restrained an eye roll as he argued with the older brother. Pete. No, Paul. No, Pete. Either way they were both idiots.
The way they refused to let Clint out of their sight, hounding him for their money, always one brother with him. Wasting Clint’s time when he should be helping Gibson. After all, everything Gibson was doing, he was doing for Clint. No matter. After tonight it would all be over and both brothers dead. But in the meantime… “She’s the key to Clint, and the boy’s the key to her. Break one and you break them all.”
Pete considered that, grabbed his phone, and called his brother, filling him in. His other hand—the one with the shotgun—didn’t waver. “At least having her and the kid will relieve the boredom, if nothing else.”
Gibson didn’t need the help of a speaker to hear Paul’s answer. “So would a stick in the eye, don’t make me poke you with one.”
“I’m just saying, if Clint’s got in his head to double-cross us, no way in hell will he leave his girl behind. She’s all I ever heard him talk about. Getting back to her, having fun like they used to.” He made it sound like it was his idea to capture Morgan. Gibson bristled but held his silence. Clint still needed the brothers, which meant so did Gibson.
“Well, don’t have too much fun. She’s no good to us dead.”
“I say it’s more than time we get to have some fun. I’m so damned tired of sitting around here looking at your ugly ass.”
“At least it’s not as ugly as your fat face.”
“Just let Clint know we’re done playing around. He gets us our money. Tonight. Or his precious little girl is ours for the keeping.”
“You get the job done downtown?” Paul meant the arena where the Pitt game was being held tonight.
“Yeah, they’re all good to go. Still think I should come with the kid, back you up.” He eyed Gibson with suspicion. “In case Clint tries to double-cross us.”
“No. Now that we have the girl, that’s not going to happen. Wait there with her. Gotta go, he’s coming.” Paul hung up.
Pete pocketed the phone then swiveled his head to regard Gibson. “And what am I going to do with you? Can’t have you roaming around, playing peeping Tom while I introduce myself to our guests.”
Gibson didn’t like the glint in Pete’s eye—sometimes the brothers forgot that it was Gibson responsible for them being free as well as Clint. He wished Clint had just killed them back at the truck stop where he’d picked them up after they killed the guards. But Clint said he needed at least one of them alive to play fall guy, clear his and Gibson’s escape after tonight.
“Don’t worry about me, I’m headed out. Gotta stay on schedule. Big night tonight.”
“Better be. You know the reward on Clint’s up to six figures. Me and Paulie, we’d best clear at least that with this score of yours. Otherwise…” He didn’t finish his threat. Didn’t have to.
Gibson turned and headed toward the carport where the silver Toyota waited. He made sure he was out of Pete’s sight before he let his feelings show through. He wanted to be confident like Clint, unafraid of the risks he was taking, certain of the outcome. But so much could go wrong, and the stakes were so high.
At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Pete coming after him. Between the two hostages, he was sure Pete would be well occupied until the job was done and he and Clint were long gone.
Poor Morgan. She was in for a rough night of it. Pete might have orders not to kill her, but no one ever said anything about not killing her Sir Galahad—or making her watch.