Carolina Moon

gun in the other.
    “I’ve been waiting for you.”
    Tory tightened her grip on the revolver. “I know.”
    “Where’s that Lavelle bitch?”
    Gone. Safe. “There’s no one here but me.”
    “Lying little whore. You don’t take two steps without that rich man’s brat. I wanna talk to her.” He grinned. “I wanna talk to both of you.”
    “Hope’s dead. There’s just me now.”
    “That’s right, that’s right.” He lifted the bottle, then realizing it was empty, heaved it against the wall where it shattered like gunshots. “Got herself killed. Asked for it. Both of you asked for everything you got. Lying and sneaking. Touching each other in unholy ways.”
    “There was nothing but innocence between me and Hope.” Tory strained her ears for the panther roar of Cade’s engine, but heard nothing.
    “You think I didn’t know ?” He gestured wildly with the gun, but she didn’t flinch. “You think I didn’t see you, swimming naked, floating in the water, splashing in it so it ran down your bodies.”
    It sickened her that he could twist a simple childhood memory into the profane. “We were eight years old. But you weren’t. The sin was in you. It always was. No, you stay back.” She lifted the gun now, and the trembling ran from her shoulder to her fingertips. “You won’t lay a hand on me again. Or anyone else. Didn’t Mama give you enough money this time? Didn’t she move fast enough? Is that why you did it?”
    “I never raised my hand to your mother unless she needed it. God made man head of the house. Put that down and get me a drink.”
    “The police are on their way by now. They’ve been looking for you. For Hope, for Mama, for all the others.” The gun jerked in her hand as he came forward. In her mind there was the hiss and snap of a Sam Browne belt.
    “You come near me, and we won’t wait for them. I’ll end it now.”
    “You think you worry me. You never had a lick of gumption.”
    “Nobody’s ever said that about me.” Faith stepped up behind Tory. The little gun gleamed in her hand. “If she won’t shoot you, I promise I will.”
    “You said she was dead. You said she was dead.” He was a big man with a long reach. In panic as much as fury he lunged, knocking Tory hard against the wall. A gunshot rang out, and the smell of blood drenched her senses.
    She stumbled back against Faith as her father howled and stormed out the broken doorway.
    “I told you to go.” Teeth chattering, Tory went down to her knees.
    “Well, I didn’t listen, did I?” Because her vision was going gray, Faith braced against the wall and shook her head fiercely. “I used Cade’s car phone to call the police.”
    “You came back.”
    “Yeah.” Blowing little panting breaths, Faith bent over from the waist to try to get some blood back in her head. “You wouldn’t have left me.”
    “There was blood. I smelled blood.” Instantly Tory was on her feet, jerking Faith upright again. “Are you shot? Did he shoot you?”
    “No. It was you. You shot him. Tory, snap out of it.”
    Tory stared down at her own hand. The gun was still in it, shaking as if it were alive. With a little gasp of shock she dropped it clattering to the floor. “I shot him?”
    “Your gun went off when he shoved you. I think. God, it happened fast. There was blood on his shirt, I’m sure of that much, and I didn’t fire. I think I’m going to be sick. I hate being sick. Sirens.” Hearing them, Faith rested her back against the wall. “Oh, thank God.”
    Then she heard the roar of an engine, and shoved away from the wall. “Oh no. Oh Jesus. Cade’s car. I left the keys in the car.”
    Before Tory could stop her, she was darting toward the front door. They burst out together in time to see the car squeal onto the road.
    “Cade’s going to kill me.”
    Tory drew in a breath like a sob, but when it came out it was laughter. Edging toward hysteria, but laughter. “We just chased off a madman, and you’re worried about your big brother. Only you.”
    “Well, Cade can be pretty fierce.” As much to comfort as to support herself, Faith draped an arm around Tory’s shoulder. Tory let her head droop, closed her eyes.
    The scream of sirens battered her ears. She saw hands on the wheel of the car. Her father’s hands, scored deep with scratches. She felt the speed, the dance of the tires as the car was whipped around.
    Coming back, pushing for speed. The radio blaring hot rock. Lights whirling. You see