“What?” Brock screeched, shooting Mitch a glare. Damn him for bringing this kind of trouble to their door once more.
“He was serving twenty years to life. How he convinced a parole board to free him, I don’t know.”
“We’re here at the lodge now,” Brock told him, cautiously entering the apartment.
Elevated voices filled the apartment. Mitch rushed by him.
Brock ducked behind the bedroom door and reached behind an old gun clock where Mitch once kept a small handgun. Securing the weapon, he checked for bullets and peered around the wall.
“Tell the local fellows to come in quietly,” Brock whispered. “We’re in the red lodge on the island. Whitehead is still here.”
“Is Trixie all right?” Aspen asked.
“She will be,” Brock promised, sliding the phone on a box top in passing. He gripped the pistol with both hands and stepped out in the opening, showing himself and the gun to a man he was fully prepared to blow to kingdom come.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Do you always point, aim, and fire without asking questions first or is that just a trait you developed when you hooked up with your little woman?”
“Step away from Trixie,” Brock said, keeping the gun level.
Cash had one hand tucked behind his back. He was seated a few inches from Trixie and she looked terrified.
Mitch eased around the coffee table, reached for Trixie’s hand, and pulled her away from the couch, pushing her behind him.
“Look at you,” Cash said, his legs splayed. “You’re so predictable, Colony. You come in here with your old friend and start acting like I’m some kind of dangerous criminal.”
Mitch took one step sideway and then another, placing his hand on Trixie’s hip and guiding her along behind him. His effort was apparent. He was trying to move her out of harm’s way.
Brock kept watch over Cash. He didn’t want to ask him what he had behind his back until Trixie was safely out of the room.
The next ten seconds passed at a snail’s pace.
Cash flinched a time or two. He obviously meant to jostle Brock but Brock held his weapon steady until he heard Mitch tell Trixie to run to mid camp and find Rory.
Moments later, Mitch returned at the speed of a superhero, grabbed Cash by the collar, and slammed him against the wall. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Cash snarled. “I’m your friend, you bastard. If I hadn’t been your friend, I could’ve had your woman in eight different positions by now. You couldn’t have stopped me. If I’d wanted to harm her, the harm would’ve been done.”
Mitch’s eye twitched. His jaw flexed. “We saw the pictures.”
Cash laughed. “You expect me to believe you never jacked off to a centerfold.”
“Why, you bastard!” Mitch yelled, thrusting his forearm against Cash’s throat.
Brock was pissed, too, but he was sensible. “Step away from him, Mitch.”
Sirens filled the area. The damn PD there had always arrived with all the loud bells and whistles. They might as well have used a megaphone and shouted, “We’re arriving on the scene. If you’d like to flee with your hostage, do that now. We don’t want to have to draw our guns. We damn sure don’t want a confrontation.”
Mitch clenched his teeth. He threw his knee into Cash’s gut and pinned his entire body to the wall. “I ought to kill you, motherfucker.”
“And wouldn’t that be smart? Hmm?” Cash managed to ask, his face turning blue. “You want twenty years or more for my life?”
“Man, back off!” Brock screamed, eyeing the window and pulling Mitch by the shoulder. “You’re a free man, Mitch. Free. You’re free to love and be loved. Trixie is safe, man. Let him go. Let the cops handle this situation.”
Mitch’s determination was etched in his drawn brow. Cash practically pleaded with him as their gazes met and his skin became an ashen color.
Mitch grunted, threw his weight forward once more and then backed away, cursing under his breath as he paced back and forth and Cash collapsed to the floor, his hands clasped around his neck. “We were friends.”
Mitch turned on him. “How can you say that? Hmm? How can you say that and yet have a shrine in your room to a woman you don’t even know, a woman you’d never even heard of prior to meeting me?”
Cash bowed his head.
“That’s not true though, is it, Cash?” Brock asked, staring down the bridge of his nose.
“What are you talking about?” Mitch asked, raking his hands through his hair and stopping in front of Cash. “What is he talking about?”
Cash glared at Brock. He took a few breaths and slowly rose to an erect position, squaring his shoulders and looking Mitch in the eye. “We are friends.”