She jerked her gaze away from the corpse and over to the supposed man of God who’d pulled the trigger as if doing nothing more out of the ordinary than starting a car or opening a window.
“Yeah.” She gave him a jerky nod.
“Excellent. Poor, distraught woman simply couldn’t handle the stress of seeing all the personal effects her sister left behind and that drove her to kill herself . . .” He affected a sad pout.
Mystery wanted to choke. “How can you treat people as if they’re expendable?”
“The lives of the lowly many simply aren’t worth those of the exalted few.”
Her jaw dropped. “Like you?”
“Precisely. Now, let’s search your pockets. If that proves unsuccessful, I’ll have to retrace your steps and . . .” Wearing a bland expression that probably soothed his gullible followers, he tsked at her, indicating that it wouldn’t end well for her.
That scared the hell out of Mystery.
A siren wailed in the distance, and she prayed that Heath had noticed her missing or someone had heard the gunshots and called for help. A rattling at the front door sounded through the eerie still next, as if someone gave it a few good tugs, then realized it was locked tight.
Reverend Grace’s gaze zipped to the door. “I’d hoped to have the peace of knowing you further before . . . But I need the disc more. Let’s get down to business and not dwell on unpleasantries. Turn out your pants pockets.”
Once she did, he’d know that she’d plotted and lied. He’d pull the trigger. He’d spew her brains all over the floor, too.
Mystery cut her stare to her aunt’s lifeless body, surrounded by a thick pool of her coppery blood. The smell nearly made her wretch. She started shaking again. Think fast. Now!
If she could lure him closer to her, she might be able to swipe the gun from him. Or if he came at her like an attacker, she could fight him off. After feeling so helpless in that shack with nothing but sand and shrieking wind around her, then having Axel rescue her and insist that she learn to defend herself, Mystery had.
“Make me.” She shoved her fists on her hips for effect, praying it needled him.
Instead, he just looked weary—and pointed the gun at her. “Do it or I pull the trigger.”
She swallowed as she stared down the barrel. Her father—the one who mattered—would suffer a huge blow if she didn’t make it out alive. Mystery wanted to live to explain the truth about her mother’s murder to him. She wanted to live long enough to apologize to Axel and tell him that she loved him. She wanted to have his children and grow old and . . . For any of that to happen, she had to be smart.
“No, you won’t, because if I don’t have it in my pocket, I’m the only person who knows exactly which path I walked all day. Gail could have helped you, but you were hasty and impatient and you murdered someone who idolized you.” What would his followers say about that? Mystery wanted to taunt him with that but if she did, he’d probably only kill her sooner. She was definitely a loose end he wouldn’t leave dangling.
The wail of the siren came closer. Something rattled at the side of the building, a noise of metal scraping wood. Mystery couldn’t place it but she prayed it was someone trying to help her get free and live.
Reverend Grace lowered the gun from her head, aiming for her thigh. “I’m running out of time, I fear. I’ll wound you. It will hurt, but you’ll still be able to help me retrace your path to find the disc. Now hurry and turn your pockets out or you’ll learn that God has far more mercy than I do.”
“And if you get your hands on the disc, you’ll kill me.” She shrugged. “You’re not getting out of here, you know. Someone is on the other side of the wall, looking for a way to save me.”
A trickle of sweat ran from his temple down to his cheek. “You’re right. You’ll make a much better hostage.” Without warning, he grabbed her arm and smacked her on the side of the head with the gun in his hand. Pain exploded through her skull. She gasped, feeling dazed. She stumbled. Her world nearly went black.
Reverend Grace used the opportunity to jerk her back against his chest. He gave a vicious yank on her hair—and wedged the barrel of the gun to her ribs. Then he shoved his left hand in the empty pocket of her jeans and turned it inside out.
When nothing emerged, he heaved a frustrated sigh. “Don’t move.”
He leaned away, switched the gun to his left hand, and fumbled a bit. Despite her head throbbing and the nausea churning in her stomach, Mystery knew she had to act. Because if he put his hand into her right pocket, it would be game over for her.
Summoning her balance and strength, she raised her foot and stomped on his toes. He hopped on one foot behind her with a nasty curse.
In the same moment, the siren screamed ever closer. Her head throbbed. Something landed on the roof of the building with a thud. A metallic creaking filled the room. She whirled around, looking for the source of the sound.
Instead, Reverend Grace got right in her face. “Bitch! I mourned Julia. It saddened me to kill Gail. You? I’ll enjoy.”
Then he pointed the gun directly at her head, mere inches away.
He would do it, Mystery knew. She wasn’t ready to die, and she didn’t want to hurt her father—not this sperm donor, but the one who’d actually raised her. Marshall Mullins would grieve terribly. For that, she was sorry. She knew Heath would feel guilty that he’d failed to save her, just as he’d been unable to save his wife. And Axel . . . the selfish part of her hoped that he’d mourn her, but then she shut that down. What she really wanted to know before she died was whether he loved her. But it would be better for him if he didn’t. He could easily move on with his life, maybe make peace with his mother, find someone he could love, and live happily ever after.
She’d be lying, though, if she said she didn’t want to be the woman next to him in that vision. She had one opportunity to make that happen before this “devout” piece of trash in her face pulled the trigger.
“I’ll make it look as if your distraught aunt shot you before turning the gun on herself. What a terrible shame.” He gave her a cruel sneer.
“How are you going to get out of here without being seen? We’re surrounded.”
He looked around the building, the sweat rolling down the side of his face a bit faster. “I’ll think of something. I always do. I have the Lord on my side.”
The only thing he had was flat fucking craziness.
“Now give me the disc. Turn out your damn pocket!”
Mystery shoved her hand into her pocket, pretending she needed to widen her stance in order to dig deeper. Her head was still swimming, and dizziness began to overtake her. She dragged in a deep breath of air. The smell of blood made her stomach turn once more, and she almost lost her lunch, bucking and heaving.
“No fucking way. Empty your pocket now!” he screamed.
The sirens now sounded right outside the door. Another noise on the roof snagged her attention. His finger tightened around the trigger.
It was now or never.
She gathered all her strength—and kicked him in the balls.
With a cry, he dropped the gun, sending it clattering across the tile to the back of the room as he clutched his genitals with a terrible groan. “Cunt.”
“Asshole,” she tossed over her shoulder as she ran for the door. Safety and freedom awaited her out there if she could just get the door open.
Heart racing, every muscle trembling, she struggled to retain her balance and reach the front entrance of the building. She barely held her nausea at bay as she gripped the knob of the dead bolt and turned it. But when she tried to push the door open, it wouldn’t budge.
Mystery whimpered. She tried not to panic as she sucked back her tears and forced herself to focus, turning the knob in the other direction.
Behind her, she heard footsteps and whirled to find Reverend Grace recovered and ready to pull the trigger again. “That card is in your pocket or you wouldn’t be fighting me so hard. I’m going to blow your brains all over this fucking door and take that card. I’ll preserve my legacy. You’ll be nothing but a fading headline and dust. Good-bye.”