Though it was nearly pitch-black in the room, Ethan could make out a couch along the back wall and an exterior door on the wall opposite. Another doorway opened to what he assumed was a hallway leading to the rest of the cabin.
“So keep your dial tuned to 860 AM,” the radio voice intoned, “for all your sports and weather news…”
The radio voice seemed to be coming from the far corner of the room. Edging closer, Ethan could see what looked like a large recliner—and the body of a sleeping man in it.
Gus Hobbs.
Ethan carefully leaned the rifle against the wall. Then he launched himself forward in the darkness. He didn’t want to stand back and threaten this man; he wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp.
Hobbs woke with a start just as Ethan was on top of him, and the guy only had time to throw up his hands before Ethan was driving his fists into his head and arms. Hobbs started yelling and trying to block the blows, but Ethan was wide-awake and enraged, and there was nothing Hobbs could do but try to scramble backward out of the chair to avoid him.
“Stop! Shit!” he was yelling. “Man, stop! Shit!”
Ethan finally pulled back and stood above him, panting. “Where is she, Hobbs?” he yelled. “Where is she?”
Brilliant overhead light flared in his eyes, blinding him. Squinting, Ethan turned to see another man in the other doorway, calmly leveling a pistol at his chest.
“That fool ain’t Gus Hobbs,” he said. “I am.”
Chapter
91
Ethan sucked in his breath. He wasn’t afraid: he was furious. He’d let his emotions cloud his judgment, and he’d attacked without knowing the size, strength, or even the identity of the enemy. What a stupid, rookie mistake.
He stood up to his full height, as if he wasn’t looking down the wrong end of a pistol at all. “Where’s Rose?” he demanded.
Hobbs didn’t answer, and the other man wiped angrily at his bloody, swollen face. “Shoot him,” he said. “Shoot that bastard.”
Gus Hobbs turned his cold gaze to his partner. “Maybe I should shoot you,” he said.
“I just closed my eyes for a minute—”
“Exactly,” Hobbs said viciously.
Hobbs was lean but muscular, with a hard, almost handsome face. If Clayton Dunning had been a bulldog, then Gus Hobbs was closer to a wolf. Had AnnieLee really married this man? Had she lived here in this very house? Ethan still couldn’t believe it.
But whatever the truth was, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was finding her safe.
And, he thought grimly, not getting killed trying.
“Step outside,” Hobbs said to Ethan, gesturing with the gun.
The other man laughed as he wiped his bleeding nose on his sleeve. “He don’t want to get the floor messy when he shoots you.”
“Shut up,” Hobbs told him. To Ethan he said, “Hands up. Go on.” He motioned toward the front door, which was just to Ethan’s left.
Ethan put his hands up and slowly turned. But he turned the long way around, to his right, so that he could see the kitchen door and the rifle he’d leaned against the wall next to it. Maybe it was because the Winchester was the same color as the wood paneling, or maybe it was impossible for Hobbs or his flunky to imagine someone having a weapon and not using it, but neither man had noticed the gun. Ethan figured it was eight feet away from him. Doable, he thought.
Finally Ethan rotated so that he was facing the front door. “I can’t open this with my hands in the air,” he told them.
“Jesus,” Hobbs said. “Open it, Rick.”
As Rick came toward him, Ethan’s right hand dropped down and he yanked the knob as hard as he could. The door went smashing into Rick’s face. At the same time, Ethan dove backward toward the rifle, landing hard on his side. He grabbed the gun and rolled onto his back in one smooth motion, and then pulled the trigger and shot Gus Hobbs.
Or…he shot where Gus Hobbs had been.
The bullet punched a hole in the wall as Hobbs disappeared around the corner. Ethan swung the gun toward Rick as he got to his feet. “Run or I’ll shoot,” he growled.
Rick hesitated. Ethan fired, and the bullet grazed Rick’s biceps. The man needed no further encouragement to leave.
Then Ethan, alone in the living room, inched toward where Hobbs had gone. Crouching low, he peered through the doorway. He saw a short, empty hall and a back door flung wide open.
Hugging the wall, Ethan walked forward until the yard came into view. In the moonlight he could see patchy grass, a utility trailer, a shed, and a clothesline with a few yellowing towels on it. A moment later, Gus Hobbs’s face and gun peered around the corner of the shed.