“Yeah, second door on the right.”
“Thanks. I’ll be real quick. Sorry.” Anthony hurried off down the hall and gave Tom the coverage he needed as he left the laundry room.
Tom gave a nod to Anthony, who said softly to him, “He’s got a gun.”
Tom showed him his pistol. Anthony’s eyes widened. He turned and pushed the bathroom door open and whispered to Tom, “Good luck.”
“Stay in there.”
Anthony looked rebellious, like he wouldn’t let Tom do all the fighting if he needed help. Tom didn’t want Anthony getting shot. “Stay,” Tom whispered again.
“Elizabeth still owns her parents’ property. She’s going to sell it to me,” Quinton said from the living room as Tom continued down the hall one step at a time, trying to ensure he didn’t make a board squeak beneath the carpet.
“So why do all this?” Eric asked. He turned his head a little in the direction of the hallway leading to the laundry room, bathrooms, and bedrooms, but he didn’t look, knowing that would cause Quinton to glance in that direction and see Tom.
Tom quickly assessed the situation. Quinton stood near the couch armed with a 9 mm revolver. Mr. Winston sat on the opposite end.
“Are you sure nobody wants anything to eat? I’m hungry,” Mr. Winston said.
“No!” Quinton snapped. “Eric, look out the window. See if Anthony’s brother or the others are coming.”
Anthony flushed the toilet and ran the water full blast in the sink, making more noise for Tom. He’d have to thank the kid later. And Eric.
As soon as Eric moved toward the front window, Tom had a clean shot. He aimed at Quinton’s gun hand and fired.
The sound reverberated through the house. The bullet hit Quinton in the hand. He screamed in pain and dropped his weapon.
Eric swung around and dove for him, taking the older man down. Quinton whacked his head hard on the sharp edge of a table with a thunk and crumpled to the wooden floor.
Anthony rushed out of the bathroom. “I missed all of it! You should have waited for me!”
“That was the whole point—to ensure you missed all of it,” Tom said. “Thanks for the help, though. You did a damn good job, Anthony, Eric.” Tom stalked over to check on Quinton.
Eric examined him for a pulse.
“I’ll get some rope out of the shed,” Mr. Winston said, heading for the front door.
Anthony glanced out the window. “Holy crap. Wait, Mr. Winston! North’s pulling the sled and headed toward the house.”
Tom’s heart pumped double time. How did North get loose?
“Elizabeth, Minx?” Tom said, hurrying for the window.
“A red wolf is on the sled. Small. Female,” Anthony said. “And another red wolf is running alongside the sled. I think it might be that guy Sefton. No sign of Cody or Minx.”
Tom started stripping as soon as he heard Anthony say a red wolf was on the sled. Once he was nude, he shifted. Anthony ran to open the front door for him.
Tom charged out of the house and across the snow to tackle Sefton, figuring that’s who the wolf had to be, hoping North would stay out of it. At least North was unarmed unless he shifted. Elizabeth was tied to the sled, blood on her mouth. She gave a little whimper in greeting when she saw Tom. He wanted to free her, but first he had to deal with Sefton.
The fight with Sefton wouldn’t be fair, but from what Tom could see, her half brother had already injured Elizabeth, and he had tried to kill her before. Sefton’s right flank was bleeding, which meant she must have gotten in a good bite first. Tom was damned proud of her. He noted that North was trying to untie Elizabeth.
What was he doing? Whose side was he on?
Tom clashed with Sefton, snarling and snapping his powerful jaws, but he only managed to grab a mouthful of fur before Sefton scampered away. Growling, Tom smelled fear on the red wolf. He should be fearful. Tom wouldn’t let him live.
He charged again at Sefton, trying to get the wolf’s neck, but Sefton bolted out of his path. Tom wanted to get the red wolf pinned down so he could fight with him wolf to wolf. He finally maneuvered Sefton against the trunk of a spruce, heavy snow on the branches shaking so hard from the wolves’ movements that it created a makeshift snowstorm. Tom bit into Sefton’s flank, drawing blood. Sefton yipped and jumped through the branches, snow collecting on his fur as he escaped another chomp of Tom’s wicked canines that missed him by inches.
“Tom, watch out! Sefton killed Elizabeth’s parents!” North shouted.
Sefton had killed them. Not Quinton. Though Quinton’s attempted killing of Elizabeth made him just as guilty. With the way Sefton avoided clashing with Tom, he wondered how the red wolf ever had the guts to kill his own father.