Page 94 of Don't Burn Bridges
“Hey, faggot!” Troy bellowed. “Where's my sister... and the money?”
“Doesn't exactly sound like he wants to have a rational conversation.” Shane glanced through the dining room window toward the backyard. “Damn it.”
He stepped toward Shylo. “Go out the back door and run to the horse barn. Get Tuck and whoever else is there.”
She couldn't move.
More hammering echoed through the house. Her gaze darted toward the foyer before returning to Shane, who pointed toward the back door. “Go.”
Her legs refused to cooperate.
“Go!” he barked. “Hurry!”
The command finally cut through her terror. She spun around and ran.
Getting Shylo out of the house accomplished several things at once. Foremost, it kept her out of the line of fire. And just as important, it denied Troy the leverage he was looking for. Shane wasn't about to bargain with the man, and he had no intention of letting Shylo become a pawn in whatever twisted plan Troy had cooked up. And if she was safely away from the house, she couldn't throw herself between them, trying to protect him—a gesture he had little doubt she'd make, no matter how misguided.
It was bad enough that Paige had refused to leave. But at least he knew his wife could handle herself, even while pregnant.
As Shylo bolted through the back door, he drew the Glock from the holster riding on his hip and moved toward the living room, keeping well away from the narrow windows flanking the front door. Years on the ranch had taught him there was no sense in giving a raging bull an easy target.
Behind him, Paige ended the call to Hazard P.D. as she crossed into the den. A second later, he heard the scrape of wood against stone as she lifted the twelve-gauge from the hooks above the fireplace, followed by the unmistakable metallic sound of a shell being chambered.
Despite everything, the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Try not to shoot me in the ass,” he said in a low voice.
“I'll do my best,” she replied without missing a beat. “But no promises if you zig when I think you're going to zag.”
He huffed a quiet breath that almost passed for a laugh. Almost.
Keeping low, he eased toward the front window until he could see the porch through the edge of the curtain.
Troy paced at the bottom of the porch steps, unable to stand still for more than a few seconds. He stalked in one direction, muttered to himself, then spun back toward the house as if he'd forgotten where he was going. His movements were sharp, restless, and a little too quick.
Shane had no idea what the man was on, but he was clearly under the influence of something. More importantly, though, both of his hands were empty—for now.
“Stay inside and out of sight,” he said to Paige. He pointed at the shotgun. “Only use that if he gets past me and tries to get in here.”
He wouldn't. Shane wouldn't let him.
Moving to the foyer, he unlocked the deadbolt and stepped onto the porch, easing the front door closed behind him.
Troy had started back toward his truck, muttering under his breath, but the sound of the door opening made him stop. He turned slowly, a grin spreading across his face as his gaze traveled from Shane's boots to the pistol riding openly on his hip before finally settling on his face.
Shane met his stare without blinking. Up close, Troy looked rougher than he'd expected. Bloodshot eyes. Several days' worth of stubble shadowed his jaw, and his worn, wrinkled clothes suggested he'd slept in them. There was an intensity about him that raised every instinct Shane had spent a lifetime trusting.
Whatever was driving the man, reason wasn't likely to be part of it.
“Soooo...” Troy shoved both hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You're the rich one in the family.”
“I'm not your family.”
Troy shrugged, completely unfazed. “Well... almost family.”
Shane descended the porch steps at an unhurried pace, stopping well short of Troy. He had no intention of giving the man a chance to close the distance on his terms. If this went sideways, he'd rather it happen halfway across the yard than within arm's reach of the front door.
“No. We're not almost family. You're nothing to me.” He held Troy's gaze. “You've got exactly thirty seconds to get back in your truck and leave my property.”
