Tony Dell pushed open the saloon doors to the kitchen. Will couldn’t guess how long he’d been standing there. He’d obviously heard enough.

Tony took three steps across the room and jammed his knife into Franklin’s neck.

Franklin’s mouth opened. He dropped the gun. He put one hand to his throat, tried to steady the handle of the knife with the other.

And then Tony pulled out the blade.

Blood shot out of the wound like a water pistol.

Franklin went down on one knee. He gasped for air. Will could hear his breath wheezing through the open slit in his neck.

Cayla said, “Jesus, Tony, finish it.”

Tony didn’t want to. He was soaking in the spectacle of Franklin’s death. The blood pouring out of his neck. The way his fingers quivered as he reached out for help. Franklin finally lost his balance. His whole body shifted, his knee slipping out from under him. His shoulder hit the floor. Blood pooled around his head. His fingers kept trembling. A pungent odor filled the air. His big chest rose for one last breath that he would never let go.

And then it was over.

“Damn,” Tony whispered. “I think he shit hisself.”

Cayla slapped Tony on the back of the head. “How many times do I have to call you? I swear to God, I thought Shawn was gonna arrest me outside the hospital. I told you he wasn’t right with this.”

“You wanna stop your yapping and thank me for risking my neck to get here?” Tony wiped the knife blade on his jeans before shoving it into his boot. “They’s twenty squad cars set up on the other side of the highway. I had to take the back way.”

“Well, poor you.” Cayla picked up her still-burning cigarette from the floor. She grabbed Franklin’s Glock and tossed it into the kitchen. “Take care of Bud and bring my suitcase. If we gotta go the back roads, I’m gonna be late for my flight.”

Tony said, “Shit, you don’t gotta get there four hours ahead. That’s for them, not you.”

“You ever been on an international flight before?” she demanded. Tony’s expression gave him away. “Just be quick, and don’t forget to bring my suitcase.” She opened the door, but didn’t leave. She walked over to Will and jammed her fingers into his front pocket. He kept his body as still as he could. She pulled out the keys to Sara’s BMW. “Might as well drive there in style.”

Tony slapped her ass. “Hell yeah, baby.”

Cayla gave Will a nasty look. Her voice went from her usual high-pitched singsong to a witch’s snarl. “Make it hurt, baby. This asshole cost me thirty grand.”

She slammed the door behind her.

In the silence, Will heard a clicking sound. He realized it was the breath stuttering in and out of his mouth.

Tony shook his head. “That gal is a piece of work, lemme tell ya.”

Will said nothing. Twice now, he’d seen what Tony Dell was capable of. Watching Eric Haigh get stabbed, all Will could think was that he never wanted to go out that way. Now that he’d seen the alternative, he wasn’t so sure.

Tony breathed out a heavy sigh. “Get up, Bud. I ain’t gonna kill you on the floor.”

Will struggled to get on his knees. Finally, Tony grabbed his arm and yanked him up. Will tried to pull away, but it was no use. His hands and feet were tied. He was trapped. He was going to die in this house, on this floor, beside Paul Vickery and DeShawn Franklin.

The only thing that brought him any peace was knowing that Benjamin was safe in the attic. He had Will’s phone. They would trace him. They would take Benjamin to his brother. Both boys would be home soon.

But Sara would have nothing. Will was still legally married to Angie Polaski. The courts wouldn’t care that Will hadn’t seen her in months, that he’d hired a divorce lawyer to track her down. His wife had all claim to him—not just his body, but his memories. Angie had grown up with Will. By virtue of proximity, she knew more about him than anyone else on earth. She was his Pandora’s box that only opened when it was time to mete out pain.

Sara had Will’s dog, his toothbrush, and whatever clothes he’d left in her apartment.

“Welp.” Tony slid the knife out of his boot. “Might as well get this over with.” He held it up for Will to see. He’d obviously picked up the trick from the redneck. And as it had before, the trick worked. Will felt his gut clench.

Tony smiled at the effect. “You scared, Bud?”

Will tried to summon Bill Black. He couldn’t let himself die a coward. “Go ahead and do it, man. Don’t drag it out.”

Tony had always been contrary. He lowered the knife. “I guess you pissed somebody off real good.” He indicated Will’s face. “Got two black eyes, broke nose. I know Junior didn’t do that to you.”

Will swallowed. His throat was still hurting. He thought about the whiskey Sara had forced him to drink. She was right. It had made him feel better. Everything she did made him feel so much better.

Tony asked, “Who tore into you, Bud?”

Will knew Tony wanted an answer. This wasn’t part of the killing game. “The cop. He caught up with me last night. Sucker punched me.” He looked at Paul Vickery. “Guess he won’t do it again.”

Tony laughed. “Thass a good’un, Bud. I guess he won’t.” He used the knife to clean under his fingernails. The blade dug into the skin under his thumb. Instead of flinching, Tony watched the blood bead up. “Where’d you get that fancy car?”

Sara’s BMW. Her registration was in the glove compartment. “Stole it off a woman in the cafeteria.”

“That right?”

“She left her keys on the table. I went out into the parking lot and pressed the button until I found it.”

“That’s a good trick. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Tony hefted the knife in his hand, then started flipping it end over end. “I was wonderin’ about somethin’, Bud.” He glanced over his shoulder as if he wanted to make sure they were alone. “I ain’t queer or nothin’, but I seen you done some grooming.” He explained, “Back at the club, when Denny made you pull your shorts down?”

Will shook his head. “What?”

“Seems to me, a man don’t groom hisself like that unless he’s doin’ it for a woman. Am I right?”

Will swallowed again. He couldn’t accept that he was going to die talking about his genitals.

Tony kept flipping the knife. “Cayla talked me into shavin’ my balls once. They itched so bad I near ’bout scratched ’em off.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s better what you did?”

Will couldn’t tell if he was asking a question or making an observation.

Tony caught the knife by the handle. He smiled, like he’d just figured something out. “You’re still sweet on that lady up in Tennessee, ain’t ya?”

Will tried to summon up a Bill Black answer, but then he remembered that this was exactly the kind of death a man like Bill Black would face. “Yes,” Will said. “I’m in love with her. That’s where I was heading—up to Tennessee. I don’t want my kid growing up without his daddy.”

“That’s what I thought,” Tony said. “You was just trying to make her jealous, wasn’t you? Going out with Cayla like that.”