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the gun and fire without Willy shooting first, but she was going to try.

“If you let her go, I’ll come with you. Do whatever you say. Just don’t hurt Holly.”

“That’s good.” Willy held the gun against Holly’s temple as he dug in a cargo pocket of his pants. He pulled out a phone and made a call.

Emma glanced back at Gloria. It was now or never. She reached behind her and drew the gun, catching it in her shirt and almost dropping it on the ground. Definitely not winning any style points. But Willy didn’t notice, too busy managing Holly, who squirmed in his grip, and whoever he spoke to on the other end of the phone. Blood oozed from his temple, dribbling down his cheek, and he wiped it away with the hand holding the gun.

As Emma raised the handgun, Willy caught the movement from the corner of his eye. He dropped the phone in the gravel and grabbed Holly around the neck, dragging her in front of his body and obscuring any shot. “What did I say?” His words came out high-pitched and tinny as he wrestled with Holly. Her eyes bugged and she gasped like a fish in air. “She’s as good as dead!”

With Holly in the way, Emma refused to risk the shot. She had no choice but to toss the gun. As she lowered it to the ground, Willy nodded. “That’s better. Now get your butt over here so I can put a bullet in it.”

Emma took one halting step forward and then another, closing the distance between her and Holly. Tears streamed down Holly’s face and she shook her head to dissuade Emma from approaching. Emma smiled. “It’s all right. Everything will be all right.”

She steeled herself for the worst. A bullet to the ribs or the stomach. Something slow, but lethal. Another step and a shot rang out. Holly screamed as Willy slid in slow motion to the ground, gun falling from his hand and bouncing in the gravel.

Emma sucked in a breath, heart pounding, whole body shaking. A moment before, she knew it was the end.

Movement at the tree line caught her eye as Vince emerged from the small grove of trees at the back of their property, rifle in hand. He tipped his hat in Emma’s direction and she rocked back, landing on her butt on the ground.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Emma

Emma sucked in a deep breath, body overcome with shakes as the adrenaline ebbed. Vince bent over Willy’s body sprawled across the gravel.

Sobbing poured from Holly’s mouth beside him as she fell apart.

Stop standing here and do something. Emma shook herself and hurried over, wrapping the teenager in a hug as Vince stood.

“He’s dead.”

“Thank goodness.” Emma ran a hand down Holly’s hair, stroking her until her sobs eased. “Are you all right?”

Holly nodded into her shoulder. “I’m sorry I ran away. I just—I—”

“It’s okay. We can talk about it later.” Emma pulled back as Raymond emerged from the trees.

He rushed over to his wife. “I told you to stay inside no matter what.”

Gloria motioned to where the rest of them stood. “He was going to kill Holly.”

“We had it under control.” He held her at arm’s length. “If he’d shot you—”

“He didn’t, so it’s not something to worry about now.” She smiled and leaned in, kissing him on the lips. “We can talk it over later. Right now, we need to regroup and figure out what to do.”

“Gloria’s right.” Vince stood over Willy’s body, holding the satellite phone. “For starters, what should we do with this?”

“Crush it,” Raymond offered.

“What if we could use it?” Emma suggested.

“It could be tracked.”

“He said John was tracked. I know John destroyed all the devices he had on him, including his phone and the tracker. I don’t think it was a device.”

“So how did they find him?” Gloria wondered.

“It’s something we should ask him. Right now.” Raymond left Gloria and strode toward the house on a mission.

Emma hurried to catch up. “Raymond, wait. You said yourself that he needs sleep. If we wake him up—”

“That was before I almost watched my wife die. We need answers, Emma. And he’s the only one who can give them.”

He tore open the door to the house and stormed inside, Emma hot on his heels.

“What the—”

Emma stumbled to a stop, almost running into the back of Raymond as he stopped short in the middle of the room.

John sat, back propped up against the sofa, digging a pocketknife into his shoulder. Blood welled beneath the blade as he dug around in the meat of his muscle.

“John! What’s going on?” Emma hurried toward him, stopping a foot away.

“Give me a minute.” He grunted out the words as he twisted the blade around in his shoulder. At last, he flicked his wrist and exhaled in relief. The knife clattered to the floor and John wiped something small and flat on his bloodied sleeve. “This is how Willy found me.” He crushed the little rectangle between his fingers.

“What is that?”

“A microchip.”

Emma cocked her head. “Like the ones vets put in dogs and cats?”

“One and the same.”

Raymond swore.

“I’m sorry,” John offered, as he wiped the blood from his fingers on his pants. “I had no idea it was there. We were told it was an inoculation that left a scar. I had no reason to question it.”

“That’s it.” Raymond made a swiping motion with his hands. “You’ve got to go.”

“Raymond!”

“He’s a liability, Emma!’ He turned on her, muscles bunching across his back from the stress. “You’ve got to see that now.”

“He’s got a point.” John leaned back against the sofa, face ashen as he held a wad of gauze to his shoulder.

“No! Don’t be ridiculous.” Emma refused to entertain the idea. John had saved her life. It was only right that she helped him when he was suffering. “We are not kicking you out. You look like death warmed over. It’d be suicide.”

“We should take the night to process. We’ve all been through a lot.”

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