Breaking Bedrock (Book Two) (21 page)

Patrick woke the boys and hurried them to the game room
through the patio doors and out onto the deck. They tiptoed down the stairs and
across the lawn. He tried his best to keep them quiet, taking turns carrying
each of the twins, as he pleaded with them to stop whining about the fact that
the ground was hurting their bare feet. He led them to the detached garage and
into the Jeep, which he planned to push out in order to remain undetected long
enough to try and get far enough out of any kind of firing range before
starting it up. In the meantime, he had huddled the boys into the back of the Jeep.
He knew he needed to go back and help Addison and his parents, but he couldn’t
force himself to leave his children. He decided that if he couldn’t get out
that he would just have to ram the gate. The Jeep could handle it. He would go
for help and hopefully, finally, be able to dial out on his cell phone. He
ordered the boys to stay as flat as they could as he put the keys in the
ignition and raised the garage door manually as slowly and quietly as he could
possibly manage. Changing his mind at the last minute, Patrick decided pushing
it out wasn’t going to cut it. It was too risky and not quick enough. He’d just
have to take his chances, he thought as he revved the engine and pushed gas pedal
full throttle.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
Clearly, Scott told
himself, he hadn’t thought this through very well, and the angels were angry with
him. The voices in his head were growing louder, and he didn’t know what he was
supposed to do to shut them up. They had to shut up; he couldn’t think straight
with them shouting and scrambling his thoughts this way. He knew the only way
to silence them was to give them what they wanted. And he knew that in order to
please them it was going to mean that everyone had to die even the children, which
was a pity, but what could he do?

The old man was handcuffed and tied to the pillar in the living
room. And damn it if he didn’t keep complaining of chest pains. But Scott was
too brilliant a man to fall for that. Based on the annoyance factor alone, it
was clear that the old man would be the first to die. He’d shoot him first, and
then he’d kill the whore. Lastly he’d finish off Hartman, who by the look of things
was already halfway there. Then he’d set the house on the fire, destroying any
evidence of him being there at all. If they did suspect him, now that the bitch
had gotten away, well, they’d just think he burned in the fire with the rest of
them. Plus, Penny probably wouldn’t make it through the night in that type of
weather anyhow. He needed to go to the garage and collect the gasoline he’d
need to do the job, but first he needed a drink. He poured himself a scotch,
kicked it back, and then poured another. He’d just lifted the bottle to pour
another when he heard the roar of the engine outside.
Motherfucker!
Dropping the bottle, he bolted towards the front door and peeked outside only
to see a Jeep speeding away.
This wasn’t happening. It was the voices
.
Scott ran full force in the direction of the Jeep and drew his gun, firing off
a few rounds, aiming for the tires. He emptied his chamber but mostly missed as
the Jeep swerved back and forth, in an attempt to try and evade his shots.
He
watched as the taillights faded in the distance.
God damn it!
That was
it. He had to finish this thing now. The clock was running, and it was time he
got on with it.

Addison huddled next to William in the wine cellar. She
watched his breathing and counted the way she had when the boys had been tiny
babies and she’d checked nearly every few minutes to make sure they were still
breathing. Gently nudging him with her foot, Addie willed him to wake up. She
figured she only had a few minutes at best to make this work. Hammons had
slapped her around quite a bit and terrorized them for what felt like hours,
but so far she seemed to be okay. God, she hoped Patrick had made it out with
the boys. She begged to whatever God that would listen that if he’d just get
them out alive then he could take her. That’s all she wanted.
Please God.
Addie prayed over and over to herself.
Just get them out. They had to get
out.

“William!” she whispered. “William!”

Finally, he barely lifted one of his eyelids. He moaned.

“William. We’re going to die here if you don’t help me. I need
you to wake up. God! Please wake up.”

He opened one eye and then the other.

“William? Can you hear me?”

Wincing, he raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.

“William! I have
the
gun. I’m going to back up to your
hands as best I can, and you have to reach into my pants and pull it out, okay?
And then I want you to hand it to me.”

William shifted and moaned.

Addie scooted closer. “NO. I want you to stay put. Stay put. I’m
coming to you.”

She moved closer and felt his hands on her thighs.

“All right, now move your hands upward slowly. We can’t drop it.
So just go slowly.”

Addie watched his huge hand slide slowly up her thigh. He reached
just inside the waist of her pants and grabbed the gun. She eyed William, who
was on his side. “Okay, now hand it to me.”

William didn’t move, and he didn’t open his eyes, but he held to
the gun tightly. “No, Addison. I got this.”

Addie lowered her tone and gritted her teeth. “You don’t have
this, William. You don’t fucking have it. You can barely keep your eyes open.
Now give me the gun. I can do it.”

William opened his left eye. “I need you to trust me. I’m not
opening my eyes because I’m conserving my energy, but I’m an expert marksman.
You do realize that you’d have to shoot with your hands tied behind your back,
don’t you? Anyway, I’m in such bad shape he won’t suspect me.”

Addie rolled her eyes. “Conserving energy, my ass. William, give
me the gun!”

She watched him click off the safety and slowly, painfully roll
all the way onto his back, covering the gun with his body.

Addie sighed as she heard the door fling open, and she watched
her father-in-law tumble down the stairs, landing at the bottom with a thud.

“Whoops. Did I do that?” Hammons called out from above as he
descended the stairs. “All right! Time to get this little party started.” He
laughed, stopping directly in front of Addie. “It looks like lover boy isn’t
doing too well, huh? That’s quite a lot of blood here. Impressive. Look at you.
You know I’d forgotten how pretty you really are.” He taunted, taking her hair
and running it between his fingertips. Addie backed away, but it only caused
him to pull harder. “This pretty long blond hair. And my, my, my, those eyes.
As blue as the sky, they are. Man! It’s just too bad you had to turn out to be
such a little whore. You do realize that if you’d just kept your legs closed
that none of this would be happening to you, right? What a foolish, foolish
girl you are for believing that this bastard could love you. He used you up and
then tossed you aside just like everything else, didn’t he?”

Addie remained quiet, meeting his glare head on, until he
backhanded her with seemingly every bit of strength he had. She staggered a bit,
and then he really let loose on her, knocking her to the ground and kicking her
repeatedly. Somewhere around the third or fourth kick, Addie heard the shot
fire off. She watched Hammons stagger and saw the confusion on his face. As he
reached for the gun at his waist, she lunged forward and sunk her teeth into
his leg, biting into it as hard as she could. He grabbed her head and tore at
her hair as two more shots rang out in rapid succession. As though time had
suddenly stopped, Addie watched in slow motion as the blood splattered across
the room and covered her. Hammons fell forward, half of him landing on top of
her, the other half falling to the floor, bouncing as he hit the ground. She
squirmed, trying to push him off as he lay motionless, staring at her, a blank
expression upon his face. The sound of her own screams was the last thing
Addison remembered before blacking out.

Eighteen

William watched the flash of red and blue lights from
windows in the back of the ambulance. He kept asking about Addison, but no one
was answering with anything definite. Everything was happening so fast. Teams
of law enforcement had descended on the property, and medical personnel were
shouting questions at him left and right, but the only thing he could think of
was her. When he’d fired the shots and Hartman went down, Addison lost it. He
didn’t think she’d been hit until the screams started, and then she blacked out,
and there was all the blood, so much blood that he couldn’t tell where it was
coming from. He’d been shaking her as best he could—considering his injuries—trying
to get her to respond when the cops had come storming in, weapons drawn.

The medics rattled off his vitals as they cut his clothes from
his body. They placed an oxygen mask on him and were inspecting his various
injuries when an officer opened the door and started rattling off questions
directed at him. William could barely breathe, and he sure as hell couldn’t
speak with that damned thing on his face, so he kept his gaze focused on the
lights.

“He keeps asking about the girl. You do know who this is, right?
It’s William Hartman, that gazillionaire from Austin who got mixed up with that
married woman,” the medic said in a matter-of-fact tone to the officer who
simply nodded and continued jotting something down on his clipboard.

“What’s his status?” the officer demanded.

The medic continued trying to place the needle in his forearm and
after a moment sighed. “Serious, if not critical. Likely has a collapsed lung.
I suspect a head injury and several broken bones. He’s in shock and isn’t
responsive other than repetitively asking after the girl.”

“All right, I’ll meet you guys at the hospital,” the officer quipped
as he backed up and pushed the door.

“Officer?” the medic called after him, his tone serious.

The officer peered quizzically around the side of the door.

“The girl? How is she?”

William turned slowly, trying to see the officer’s expression,
but his head wouldn’t budge.

“About the same. That asshole really did a number on them.”