Nicco racked the slide of the Glock, clearing the chamber and checking the function before slipping in a new magazine. Going into battle, a soldier always made certain his weapon was ready for the fight.
He didn’t try to fool himself. He was going into battle.
The HK UMP was a powerhouse of a weapon, right up there with the AK-47. He was as at home with the deadly tools as other men were with a hammer. Right now, he wished he had one—or both—at his disposal. His Glock was fine, but it didn’t have the firepower to it that the larger weapons did.
Scout hadn’t called him at the agreed-upon time. He could only surmise that she was in trouble.
Don’t sell me short. Her words echoed in his mind, both a warning and a comfort. Her small stature notwithstanding, she was a powerhouse and she’d fight with everything she had.
“Lord, I need Your help. Scout is in trouble. I need to find her and bring her home.” He paused. “Amen.” The quiet words rested softly in his heart.
It was ironic, him praying to the Lord he’d determined wanted nothing to do with him. The two of them hadn’t been on speaking terms in years. As Scout had pointed out, the Lord hadn’t stopped believing in Nicco; Nicco had stopped believing in Him.
Nicco hadn’t done anything to earn the Lord’s love or His trust. He’d turned away from Him out of anger and grief. Just as that self-condemnation scourged him, Scout’s words sounded in his mind. You don’t earn the Lord’s love. It’s a gift, freely given out of the infinite love He has for each of us.
Could she be right? Could the Lord love a sinner such as himself? Nicco wanted desperately to believe it. Why should the Lord believe in someone who had abandoned Him as Nicco had?
Do You believe in me? The words were torn from his heart. Nicco waited, but no answer was forthcoming.
And then it happened: a quiet peace stole over him, and he realized he had his answer after all.
For the first time in years, he felt the Lord’s presence. It was as though God had wrapped him in a glow of warmth and strength from the inside out.
Lord, I believe in You, and right now, I could really use Your help. Scout needs us both.
* * *
Newtown raked Scout with a contemptuous glance. “You’ll never be anything more than a second-rate reporter. This grand story you’ve been working on—it will die before it even gets off the ground.”
“You mean the story about you, Daniels and Crane being involved in gunrunning?”
Newtown looked nonplussed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know enough to make you nervous. That’s why you wanted me out of the way. You were afraid I was getting too close.” Scout couldn’t hide her revulsion. “The weapons you stored for your friends in the militia? Do you have any idea what they’ll do to the city? The country?”
“People will die. People who are too stupid to make something of themselves. A cleansing of sorts.” The supreme lack of concern in Newtown’s voice was as offensive as the indifferent words.
“One question. Why did you have me assigned to cover your events?” Scout thought she knew the answer but she wanted it confirmed. “Let me guess. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’”
Newtown looked pleased. “I knew you were bright. Gerald and I figured what better way to keep tabs on what you were doing than to have you under our thumbs.”
“You thought of everything. Except that Crane figured out he was expendable. That’s why he called me at the last minute.”
“Right again.”
“So you had him killed. And then it was business as usual. Mustn’t let a little thing like murder get in the way.”
“Crane had his uses,” Patrice said. “When he’d outlived them, he was disposed of. Just like you will be.”
Scout refused to flinch. She had no doubt that Newtown would do exactly as she promised. Though Scout was bound to the chair, she wasn’t helpless and spit her disgust at her captor.
Newton gasped as she wiped Scout’s spittle from her cheek. “I should have expected something so vulgar from the likes of you.”
The blow came without warning, so vicious that it whipped Scout’s head back.
She tasted blood as her teeth clamped down on her tongue. Involuntary tears sprang to her eyes. Darkness spun around her.
Newtown rubbed her hands together as though brushing away something particularly loathsome.
Scout watched as the outward layers stripped away, revealing the ugliness inside. Gone were the genteel manners and lady-like demeanor. In their place was a hard, grasping woman who would stop at nothing, including murder, to achieve her ends.
“People are disposable to you, aren’t they?” Scout challenged.
“Of course.” Newtown lifted one slender shoulder in an elegant little shrug. “Murder has been with us since Caine killed Abel. It’s a necessary part of life. It always will be. I took care of Crane and Daniels just as I took care of Edmund.”
At Scout’s gasp, Newton smiled. “Didn’t know that, did you? My dear husband had run the Newtown fortune into the ground. If I hadn’t mixed a dose of digitalis with his heart medicine, he’d still be spending money on his charity like it was water, wasting it on a bunch of people who weren’t fit to breathe the same air I do.”
“You killed your husband?” Scout worked to take it in. Newtown’s revelation stunned her.
“Of course. He was already under a doctor’s care for a heart condition. When his heart gave out, thanks to a little help from me, there was no reason to think he hadn’t died of natural causes. No autopsy. Of course, I played the part of the devoted widow to perfection. I must say I looked spectacular in mourning black. You’re shocked, aren’t you? You shouldn’t be. Edmund was giving away our fortune faster than the accountants could keep up with his stupidity. And now Daniels wanted to edge me out.”
Each was as much a victim of the woman’s greed as Scout would be if she didn’t find a way out of this.
“They deserved to die,” Newtown finished.
Scout listened to the woman’s rationalization of cold-blooded murder. Despair threatened to take a chokehold as she realized that Newtown would dispose of her with the same callous disregard for life. She fought against it. She couldn’t afford to give way to it, not if she wanted to survive.“You’re making a big mistake.”
Newtown had started to walk away but now stopped, turned back to Scout. “What mistake?”
“If you kill me, Nicco will come after you like fury,” Scout said with cold certainty. “There’s no place you can hide, no place that you can run where he won’t find you and bring you down.” She had no doubt of that.
“I’m counting on it.”
Scout stopped breathing. “What do you mean?”
“Did you think I didn’t know he’s here? Gerald’s security system has been recording him since you dropped him off at the back of the estate.” A satisfied smirk twisted Newtown’s mouth. “Your boyfriend will come for you, and he’ll discover a nice little surprise I’ll have waiting for him.”
Fear crawled up Scout’s throat. “Please…you have me. Isn’t that enough?”
“No, it isn’t. I don’t let people who have crossed me go unpunished. And you and the Ranger have caused me plenty of trouble. You could have dropped the investigation at any time, but you didn’t.”
“So you’re going to kill Nicco out of spite, is that it?”
“I would never be so childish. I’m going to kill him because I can.”
Scout’s stomach crumpled in on itself, and she bit down on her rising despair. Giving in to it wouldn’t help Nicco. She went quiet. Dear Lord, I know that You are in charge. Please protect Nicco. He doesn’t deserve to die because of me.
She looked up to find Newtown staring at her. “Praying?” Her features contorted in contempt.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re right.”
Newton looked down her patrician nose at Scout. “It looks like we’ve come to the final act.”