She paused and looked back down the hall into the dining room. She could tell Corey was listening. Chase, too. Both of them glanced toward the office where Stenko was, then exchanged looks.
Leo stopped writing. He knew he had their attention. His voice was more urgent. As he talked, blood from his broken mouth flecked the napkin on the table. He said, “Stenko is in his last act, like I told you. He plans to take the money and run. He’ll probably give it all to his useless son. The whole operation-all the businesses, the casinos, the real estate-it’ll all go away. You’ll have to start over somewhere. Me, too. And we’re too damn old to start over now…”
And she heard Chase ask Corey, “What do you think?”
And Corey say, “He has a point. Stenko doesn’t look right. There’s definitely something wrong with him.”
They talked as if she weren’t down the hall at all, like she was invisible. She had to find a phone, but she needed to warn Stenko. She couldn’t let him come out of the office into a trap. But how to let him know?
Nathanial missed the exchange between his brothers, but he’d heard Leo. He slapped him again, said, “How do I know you’re not lying again, Leo?”
The slap must have stung, because there were tears in Leo’s eyes. He glared at Nathanial and said, “Stop hitting me,” in a little-boy voice.
Nathanial hit him again, this time with his fist. Leo’s head snapped back and thumped the wall with enough force that a picture in a frame came loose and crashed to the ground.
“Natty!” Corey said sharply.
Nathanial ignored him and hit Leo again. “He’s a lying little shit. He’ll never turn anything over to us. He’ll keep it all because everything’s in his head. He’s been planning this for years, Corey. He’s not going to just hand it over to us now.”
And he hit Leo again, knocking him to the floor.
Tears filled her eyes and she wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know what to do.
Then Nathanial said, “Hey…” and she saw that he was distracted by something he saw in the pasture outside the window. “Who is this asshole?”
“What asshole?” Corey asked.
“Some pretty-boy asshole,” Nathanial said. “Creeping around out there in the bushes.”
Leo managed to pull himself back up by grabbing the edge of the table. When he stood, he wobbled.
Nathanial said, “Who is that?”
Leo sighed, “It’s Robert. Stenko’s loser son. The one he’s gonna give his money to. Robert thinks he wants to save the planet or some damned thing.”
“What’s he doing here?” Nathanial asked.
From the corner near the bookcase, Chase said: “Ambush.”
The way he said it made a chill creep through her scalp.
Nathanial barked a laugh and tapped on the glass with the muzzle of a.45. “Hey, you! Trust fund boy? What the fuck you doing in the bushes? You here to ambush us?”
There was a loud sharp pop from outside, and a pane of the window glass shattered. Nathanial grunted, “Ung,” and stepped back.
Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop. The window imploded.
Nathanial doubled over like someone had punched him in the stomach. Corey and Chase dived out of the way.
She didn’t see Leo reach up under the table and pull a pistol loose that had been taped there all along, point it at the window, and start shooting. The pistol still had strips of tape on it. The shots were so loud inside the house that her ears rang from them.
Stenko materialized at the entrance to the hallway holding a large cardboard box that appeared heavy. He’d ducked and snatched the napkin from the table and it was crumpled in one of his fists. He saw her, yelled, “Run, April!” and started toward her. He spun and ran. There was a door at the end of the hallway with a window that streamed light, and she ran toward it. Stenko was behind her.
One of the Talich Brothers yelled, “Stenko! Stop!” but she felt him close in on her and she was relieved to find the outside door unlocked.
They ran across the lawn toward the trees. Behind them, in the house, she heard several more pops from Leo’s gun, followed by a series of heavy booms. As they ran, Stenko pulled ahead and a few untethered bills fluttered out of the box he was carrying and settled into the grass behind him. Fifty yards ahead, Robert was running as well, his arms flapping wildly. He never looked back.
It didn’t occur to her at the time that the reason Stenko was outrunning her was because something was wrong with her. She’d been hurt. She stopped and looked down, saw the bright red blood coursing down her right leg into her shoe, and when she saw the wound pulsing blood, she suddenly felt the pain and pitched forward into the grass.
She couldn’t remember him carrying her through the trees all the way to the car, or Robert screaming at him because he didn’t get the account numbers.
THEY’D DRIVEN A FEW MILES like maniacs, Stenko yelling for Robert to pull over. When he finally did, Stenko said to Robert, “Take off your shirt.”
“No! It’s my favorite-”
Stenko bellowed, “TAKE OFF YOUR GODDAMNED SHIRT!” and Robert did, as fast as he could, and he watched in horror as Stenko cut it into strips.
Her head was slumped back against the seat, and she wasn’t sure she could raise it. Her blood had soaked into the back seat fabric until the fabric was black. The sharp hot pain of the gunshot had faded some into a place that was empty, numb, and cold. It didn’t make sense she was cold.
Stenko winced as if it hurt him to move her, to swing her legs toward him so he could work on the wound. He used the strips of Robert’s shirt to tightly bind the wound. Robert watched from the front seat, making a face.
Stenko said to her, “There, I think I’ve got the bleeding stopped.” He looked into her eyes and cupped his warm hand on the side of her face. “You’ll make it now, I think. The bullet hit an artery but no bones or organs. As long as we stop the bleeding you should be okay. But we’ve got to get you to a hospital. You aren’t hit anywhere else, are you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“The way Robert was blasting away, I’m surprised we all aren’t dead.”
Robert said, “It wasn’t me who hit her. I never even saw her.”
Stenko said, “Shut the hell up, Robert. Of course it was you. Bullets were flying everywhere. Did you ever think about maybe, you know, aiming?”