When You Dare
Page 121
No way in hell would that slow him down.
As if they’d timed it, the skies opened up in a torrential downpour. Dare tackled the guard, and they both went down hard onto the porch. George’s head gave a satisfying thud against the concrete. The gun skittered out of his limp hand.
Another shot sounded, and Dare glanced over to see Chris standing there, soaked to the skin, the rain mingling with the blood to trail down his face. Though he wavered on his feet, he held the gun secure in both hands.
He’d shot the other man again to ensure he wouldn’t be a threat, just as Dare had always instructed him to do.
Using his elbow, Dare struck George in the jaw and felt the tension in his body slacken. Grabbing him by the shirtfront, he hauled him up to punch him hard, once, twice.
He wanted to kill the son of a bitch. The need to kill clawed inside him.
But he had promised Molly. And she needed the whole truth, every word of it. He couldn’t get that from a dead man.
With an effort, Dare pulled back.
George was utterly limp.
With his twisted sense of humor, Chris asked, “You done?”
“No.” Dare grabbed the hood and yanked it off of George’s bloodied and battered face. His nose was broken, his jaw already turning purple. “I’m just getting started.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DARE PUSHED TO HIS feet and looked at Chris. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” He curled his lip. “But it’s not like I’d complain about a bump on the head or this freezing rain, not with you standing there all macho, a damn bullet in your arm.”
“Shit, I forgot about that.” Dare realized then that his arm was half numb, half aching. “It was just a graze, I think.”
Chris rolled his eyes—and almost fell over.
Dare looked around for Molly. Frozen, drenched, she stood several yards away—right where he’d told her to stay—with a hand latched onto the collar of each dog.
God love her. “Molly, come here.”
Even from the distance he could see her hard swallow. She started slogging forward through the downpour, half dragged along by the dogs.
“You can let them go.”
George stirred, regaining Dare’s attention. “There’s a third man with Trace, but just in case, don’t let down your guard.” Dare picked up George’s gun, kicked the other man’s gun out of reach, and then checked them both for any other weapons.
At the mention of a third man, Chris started scanning the area.
The dogs were subdued, upset, watchful. They crept forward, ears and heads down, body language showing their fear. They wanted Dare’s attention and couldn’t understand the circumstances.
Dare took a moment to reassure them both. “Good girl,” he told Sargie. He stroked Tai’s wet fur. “It’s okay, baby.”
Hugging herself, her eye makeup trailing down her face, Molly stood cold and silent, just out of his reach.
He started to go to her, but to do what? This was far from over, and now the whole world would know what had happened to her.
Would she be able to forgive him for underestimating the situation?
Trace came around the side of the house with another man in tow. The fellow’s face was bloody, one eye swollen shut, his hands bound behind him.
“He was the lookout in the car,” Trace said without much inflection. “He’s the one who told me about the bomb.” He pushed the guy to the ground to sit. “So. Everyone okay?”
It took a lot to rile Trace when on the job.
“Yeah, we’re all fine.” Dare felt freezing rain trickling down his back. As Molly had said, fine was a subjective term. “Where’s Alani?”
“Inside.” Trace glanced at Chris, whistled, and said, “You look like hell. Maybe you should join her.”
Gladly, Chris handed the gun over to Trace and turned to Molly, gesturing to her. “Come on, hon.” He gave Dare a mean look. “Let’s go get dried off.”
She blinked hard and fast, swallowed again.
Dare wanted to reach out to her, but he couldn’t touch her. Not yet. To Chris he said, “Yeah, take her inside.”
“I was already doing that, damn it.”
Chris was pissed at him and not trying to hide it. But then, Chris didn’t understand just how emotionally involved Dare was this time.
Molly unglued her feet from the mud and stomped up to Dare. Her bottom lip trembled, she made a fist, and then she thumped him in the chest.
Unsure what that was about, Dare caught her hand and held her still. “Go inside, Molly. Change your clothes. I’ll be in soon.”
She just stood there, looking equal parts furious and frightened. She shook her head and said, “Dare…”
Chris wrapped an arm around her. “Shh. Come on, now. He knows what he’s doing.”
“All this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “All this because of me.”
Chris glared at Dare again.
Knowing he’d have to say something to her, Dare said, “That’s nonsense. Now go in.”
Trace lifted a brow. “Real smooth, Dare. I can feel the love from over here.”
George groaned, and half sat up.
Molly pushed away from Chris, saying, “I’ll go in, but you should help him.”
“Why would I help him? He took part in burning down my house.”
She slugged Chris, too, but not as hard as she’d hit Dare. “Not him, you idiot. Dare.”
As if they’d timed it, the skies opened up in a torrential downpour. Dare tackled the guard, and they both went down hard onto the porch. George’s head gave a satisfying thud against the concrete. The gun skittered out of his limp hand.
Another shot sounded, and Dare glanced over to see Chris standing there, soaked to the skin, the rain mingling with the blood to trail down his face. Though he wavered on his feet, he held the gun secure in both hands.
He’d shot the other man again to ensure he wouldn’t be a threat, just as Dare had always instructed him to do.
Using his elbow, Dare struck George in the jaw and felt the tension in his body slacken. Grabbing him by the shirtfront, he hauled him up to punch him hard, once, twice.
He wanted to kill the son of a bitch. The need to kill clawed inside him.
But he had promised Molly. And she needed the whole truth, every word of it. He couldn’t get that from a dead man.
With an effort, Dare pulled back.
George was utterly limp.
With his twisted sense of humor, Chris asked, “You done?”
“No.” Dare grabbed the hood and yanked it off of George’s bloodied and battered face. His nose was broken, his jaw already turning purple. “I’m just getting started.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DARE PUSHED TO HIS feet and looked at Chris. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” He curled his lip. “But it’s not like I’d complain about a bump on the head or this freezing rain, not with you standing there all macho, a damn bullet in your arm.”
“Shit, I forgot about that.” Dare realized then that his arm was half numb, half aching. “It was just a graze, I think.”
Chris rolled his eyes—and almost fell over.
Dare looked around for Molly. Frozen, drenched, she stood several yards away—right where he’d told her to stay—with a hand latched onto the collar of each dog.
God love her. “Molly, come here.”
Even from the distance he could see her hard swallow. She started slogging forward through the downpour, half dragged along by the dogs.
“You can let them go.”
George stirred, regaining Dare’s attention. “There’s a third man with Trace, but just in case, don’t let down your guard.” Dare picked up George’s gun, kicked the other man’s gun out of reach, and then checked them both for any other weapons.
At the mention of a third man, Chris started scanning the area.
The dogs were subdued, upset, watchful. They crept forward, ears and heads down, body language showing their fear. They wanted Dare’s attention and couldn’t understand the circumstances.
Dare took a moment to reassure them both. “Good girl,” he told Sargie. He stroked Tai’s wet fur. “It’s okay, baby.”
Hugging herself, her eye makeup trailing down her face, Molly stood cold and silent, just out of his reach.
He started to go to her, but to do what? This was far from over, and now the whole world would know what had happened to her.
Would she be able to forgive him for underestimating the situation?
Trace came around the side of the house with another man in tow. The fellow’s face was bloody, one eye swollen shut, his hands bound behind him.
“He was the lookout in the car,” Trace said without much inflection. “He’s the one who told me about the bomb.” He pushed the guy to the ground to sit. “So. Everyone okay?”
It took a lot to rile Trace when on the job.
“Yeah, we’re all fine.” Dare felt freezing rain trickling down his back. As Molly had said, fine was a subjective term. “Where’s Alani?”
“Inside.” Trace glanced at Chris, whistled, and said, “You look like hell. Maybe you should join her.”
Gladly, Chris handed the gun over to Trace and turned to Molly, gesturing to her. “Come on, hon.” He gave Dare a mean look. “Let’s go get dried off.”
She blinked hard and fast, swallowed again.
Dare wanted to reach out to her, but he couldn’t touch her. Not yet. To Chris he said, “Yeah, take her inside.”
“I was already doing that, damn it.”
Chris was pissed at him and not trying to hide it. But then, Chris didn’t understand just how emotionally involved Dare was this time.
Molly unglued her feet from the mud and stomped up to Dare. Her bottom lip trembled, she made a fist, and then she thumped him in the chest.
Unsure what that was about, Dare caught her hand and held her still. “Go inside, Molly. Change your clothes. I’ll be in soon.”
She just stood there, looking equal parts furious and frightened. She shook her head and said, “Dare…”
Chris wrapped an arm around her. “Shh. Come on, now. He knows what he’s doing.”
“All this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “All this because of me.”
Chris glared at Dare again.
Knowing he’d have to say something to her, Dare said, “That’s nonsense. Now go in.”
Trace lifted a brow. “Real smooth, Dare. I can feel the love from over here.”
George groaned, and half sat up.
Molly pushed away from Chris, saying, “I’ll go in, but you should help him.”
“Why would I help him? He took part in burning down my house.”
She slugged Chris, too, but not as hard as she’d hit Dare. “Not him, you idiot. Dare.”
