Page 203 of Broken
“I’ll take him.” Jacqueline pushed out of her chair. “Save me that dance.” She kissed Prescott, and held out her hand for Ethan.
Without question, he would save her that dance. And a million more.
27
THE KILL SHOT
Jacqueline
As Jacqueline and Ethan exited the barn and headed toward the house, Prescott’s mom and dad pulled up alongside them. “Where are you two headed?” Prescott’s dad asked.
“Loki is alone,” Ethan explained. “And I want to make sure he’s okay.”
“That’s very sweet, Ethan,” Prescott’s mom replied.
“Why don’t we take you?” Prescott’s dad asked.
“Okay,” Ethan said. “We can play with Loki.”
“You should take Prescott onto the dance floor,” Prescott’s mom said to her.
“I agree,” Jacqueline replied.
A few of the catering staff passed them, each carrying a tray of dirty dishes, on their way to the house.
Renée and Mason each took Ethan by a hand and continued on, while Ethan chatted away. Jacqueline watched them before turning back toward the barn.
What a great family.
As she got closer to the entrance, one of the catering staff stepped out of the shadows. “Nice night for a party.”
“Absolutely,” she replied.
“Break time is over,” he said. “Time to finish cleaning up.”
He pulled up beside her. She glanced over as he shoved a gun in her face, threw his arm around her in a chokehold, and pulled her around to the side of the barn, obscured in darkness.
Adrenaline shot through her and her heart rate skyrocketed. He slammed her against the side of the building so fast, she hadn’t fully processed what was happening.
Then, he pointed a Glock at her face.
“You scream, you’re dead,” he hissed.
Her thoughts were racing. Could she knee him in the groin before he had a chance to fire his weapon? Could she shove him and run? How could she warn everyone in the barn? She had no idea who she was dealing with, so she needed to get him talking.
“Got it,” she said, trying to get her breathing under control.
“I’ve waited a long, long time for this day, Jaqueline Hartley,” he said, his familiar voice catching her ear.
It was Lou, the musician who’d been living with her sister. Gone was the knit cap and long, dark hair. Either he’d shaved his head, or he’d been wearing a wig.
No longer clean shaven, Lou was sporting a beard and mustache. Dressed like the catering staff, he’d worn a white shirt, black vest, and black pants.
“What do you want with me, Lou?”
His eerie grin made her blood run cold.
“We met ten years ago,” he continued. “It was a rainy night. You and Janey were headed back to your sorority house. I pulled over, gave you a ride.”
