Triumph gleamed in Walt’s eyes as he lay atop Travis with Travis pinned to the floor.
“Such a sad story this will make,” Walt said. “Overcome with grief over his mother’s death and his half sister’s mental illness, the son takes his own life, no doubt a result of the same mental illness that gripped his mother and half sister. Genetics, you know. It’s too bad I didn’t choose better in my wife. Now it will only be me and Cammie and I’ll garner sympathy for the tragedy that has befallen my family.”
Knowing he was now fighting for his life, Travis rammed his knee between Walt’s legs. A look of agony covered Walt’s face and his grip loosened. Just enough for Travis to shove the gun between them.
Realizing this, Walt recovered and reached down to once again try to wrest the gun from Travis’s hand. But Travis’s hand was on the trigger and when Walt squeezed, the gun went off.
Walt jerked. Travis felt the impact and for a moment he didn’t know if he’d been shot or if Walt had. He was too numb, too shaken. But wouldn’t it hurt?
He felt the warm, sticky sensation of blood. He smelled it. He looked down to see it blooming on both his and Walt’s clothing. But when he looked back up and met Walt’s stunned gaze, he saw the glaze of pain and shock. And he saw death.
Travis shoved at him, frantic to get him off. He pushed the heavy body aside and scrambled up, panicked at the blood coating his clothing. It was all over the floor. God. Walt’s chest was covered with it.
Oh God. Oh God. What was he going to do? He hadn’t meant to kill him! He only wanted to threaten him. Make him tell him what he’d done with Eve. He scrubbed his hands over his shirt, but all he did was smear more of the blood on his hands.
Oh God. What could he do? He was in enough trouble for what he’d already done and now he’d killed his own father! What would Eve do? And Cammie? They needed him. And now they’d be left alone. And he didn’t even know if Eve was alive! If she was, he had no way of finding her now.
The front door burst open and Travis’s heart sank. It would be the police. They would have heard the gunshot. There was no defense. He was covered in his father’s blood. His fingerprints on the gun.
But when Donovan Kelly burst into the living room, his brothers and others he had no idea who they were on his heels, Travis burst into tears.
* * *
DONOVAN and his brothers along with Nathan and Joe’s team roared up to the cabin just outside Wasco. It was their last resort. The only place they hadn’t looked for Walt, and if it weren’t for the fact that Resnick had come through for them, they’d still be chasing their goddamn tails.
There was a vehicle parked out front and Donovan’s pulse accelerated. The arrogant bastard had driven here in his own vehicle.
Two goddamn days. Two of the longest days of his life they’d spent uncovering every rock in Walt Breckenridge’s life. He’d called in every favor ever owed him. Resnick had been working around the clock, pulling every string available to him and then some. And with each passing hour, Donovan’s sense of fatalism had grown until he’d resigned himself that he’d lost Eve and likely Travis as well.
They got out, guns drawn, and then they heard a gunshot.
Fear seized him and he discarded every single thing he knew about caution and he ran.
Ignoring the angry shouts of his brothers to wait until they cleared the area, Donovan burst through the front door, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Travis standing, pale, bloody and obviously in shock. And on the floor, lying in a pool of blood, was Walt Breckenridge.
Travis’s gaze lifted to Donovan’s, and then he burst into tears. He was still holding the gun and he was shaking like a leaf.
“Holy fuck,” Sam breathed as he caught up to Donovan.