61

Lazarus skidded his car to a stop in front of Piper’s home, Riley beside him. They rushed out, and Lazarus withdrew his weapon.

“Get the back!” he shouted.

Riley ran around the house, and Lazarus went to the front door. A scream pierced the air. The door was unlocked and he charged in, weapon up.

He sprinted through the home, going from room to room.

Now he heard grunting, almost a growl. He ran toward the sound and saw a nightmare. A bloodied Piper Danes crawling up the stairs as something sleek and quiet rushed up behind her.

Lazarus dived past her and crashed into Owen Whittaker like a linebacker.

The two rolled violently down the stairs, a crack echoing as someone’s head collided with the wall and left a hole. A whirlwind of blows and grunts and growls. They finally skidded to a stop at the bottom, breathless and dazed.

The gun was inches from Lazarus’s face. As Owen lunged for it, Lazarus grabbed him tightly. Owen snapped around and sank his teeth into Lazarus’s hand, blood seeping out. Lazarus didn’t flinch, separating himself from the pain.

He grabbed the gun with his free hand and pressed it against Owen’s temple. Owen knocked the gun away, giving Lazarus enough time to spin on top of him and put his weight on him. The smaller man, in such a vulnerable position, stopped moving.

Lazarus yanked out his cuffs, flipping Owen face down and then securing his wrists behind him. Pain pulsed through Lazarus, his breath shallow, head pounding. He cradled his likely broken wrist and, exhausted and dizzy, leaned back, resting his head against the wall.

From the top of the steps, Piper watched Lazarus cuff the bleeding man. Her breath came in ragged gasps, a mix of nausea and dizziness making her want to vomit. Tears would have come if she’d let them.

A faint whisper broke the silence. Owen was murmuring something. Lazarus leaned in close to hear, and his eyes darted to the hallway pointing to the downstairs bathroom.

“What did he say?” she said.

He didn’t respond.

She made her way down the stairs. Owen was handcuffed on his stomach and got to his knees. Blood dribbled out of his eye and created what looked like bloody tears running down his face.

She looked at Lazarus and saw him pick up his firearm and holster it, then go to the bathroom door. He switched on the light, but his body obscured her view.

“What’s in there?”

“Nothin’. You head on upstairs. Riley’s there.”

She moved nearer and saw dark-red spots spattered on the bathroom’s white walls.

“Lazarus,” she uttered, breathless, “what’s in there?”

He turned to her. “Go upstairs, Danes.”

She tried to get past, and he stepped in front of her. He leaned in close, his breath brushing her ear as he said, “You don’t want this in your head.”

The tears came.

“No,” she said, her voice trembling.

She tried pushing past Lazarus, but he held her in place.

“Let me go!” she shouted as she broke free and ran to the bathroom.

Lazarus let her go. He glanced at Owen, who was now up on his feet with his hands still cuffed behind him. An ugly grin came to him before he licked the blood off his lips.

Turning his attention back to Piper, Lazarus saw her frozen in front of the bathroom, her gaze fixed on the tub. He approached her silently.

“No,” she whispered, shuddering, tears running down her cheeks.

He gently pulled her away from the bathroom and shut the door. She stood frozen, unable to move, so he put his arm around her. He didn’t notice her hand slide down to the holster against his ribs and pull out his weapon.

She lifted the firearm and pointed it at Owen Whittaker’s head.

The gun shook in her unstable hands. Lazarus paused, seeing the tears shimmer in her eyes. “If you do it,” he said softly, “it’s murder.”

“I don’t care,” she stammered.

He whispered close to her ear, “You’re not like him. Gimme the gun, Danes.”

The tears wouldn’t stop, and her hands shook so much that Lazarus feared the gun might slip from them.

“I know you got faith in divine forgiveness, so you need to ask yourself: You practice what you preach? Or you just another pretender defanging the snakes?”

Gently, Lazarus eased the gun out of her hands. She collapsed into him, and he held her as she wept.