The Welcoming

his mind clear. “Nobody goes near the doors or any of the windows. Get me a weapon.” Before anyone could oblige him, he was yanking a gun away from one of Royce’s deputies. With the smallest of gestures Royce signaled to his man to be silent.
    “What do you want us to do?”
    Roman merely stared down at the gun in his hand. It was loaded. He was trained. And he was helpless.
    “DeWinter . . .” Conby began.
    “Back off.” When Conby started to speak again, Roman turned on him. “Back off.”
    He stared at the inn. He could hear Miss Millie crying softly as someone carried her to a car. The guests who had already been evacuated were being herded to safety. Roman imagined that Royce had arranged that. Charity would want to make sure they were well taken care of.
    Charity.
    Shoving the gun into his holster, he turned around. “Have the road blocked off a mile in each direction. Only official personnel in this area. We’ll keep the inn surrounded from a distance of fifty feet. He’ll be thinking again,” Roman said slowly, “and when he starts thinking he’s going to know he’s blocked in.”
    He lifted both hands and rubbed them over his face. He’d been in hostage situations before. He was trained for them. With time and cool heads, the odds of getting a hostage out in a situation of this type were excellent. When the hostage was Charity, excellent wasn’t nearly good enough.
    “I want to talk to him.”
    “Agent DeWinter, under the circumstances I have serious reservations about you being in charge of this operation.”
    Roman rounded on him. “Get in my way, Conby, and I’ll hang you up by your silk tie. Why the hell weren’t there men positioned in the back, behind him?”
    Because his palms were sweating, Conby’s voice was only more frigid. “I thought it best to have them outside, prepared if he attempted to run.”
    Roman battled the red wave of fury that burst behind his eyes. “When I get her out,” he said softly, “I’m going to deal with you, you bastard. I need communication,” he said to Royce. “Can you handle it?”
    “Give me twenty minutes.”
    With a nod, Roman turned back to study the inn. Systematically he considered and rejected points of entry.
    Inside, Charity felt some measure of relief when the knife was removed from her throat. Somehow the gun Block was pointing at her now seemed less personal.
    “Roger—”
    “Shut up. Shut up and let me think.” He swiped a beefy forearm over his brow to dry it. It had all happened so fast, too fast. Everything up to now he had done on instinct. As Roman had calculated, he was beginning to think.
    “They’ve got me trapped in here. I should’ve used you to get to one of the cars, should’ve taken off.” Then he laughed, looking wildly around the lobby. “We’re on a damn island. Can’t drive off an island.”
    “I think if we—”
    “Shut up!” he shouted and had her holding her breath as he leveled the gun at her. “I’m the one who needs to think. Feds. That sniveling little wart was right all along,” he muttered, thinking of Bob. “He made DeWinter days ago. Did you?” As he asked, he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back to hold the barrel against her throat.
    “No. I didn’t know. I didn’t. I still don’t understand.” She could only give a muffled cry when he slammed her back against the wall. She’d never seen murder in a man’s eyes before, but she recognized it. “Roger, think. If you kill me you won’t have anything to bargain with.” She tasted fear on her tongue as she forced the words out. “You need me.”
    “Yeah.” He relaxed his grip. “You’ve been handy so far. You’ll just have to go on being handy. How many ways in and out of this place?”
    “I—I don’t really know.” She sucked in her breath when he gave her hair another cruel twist.
    “You know how many two-by-fours are in this place.”
    “Five. There are five exits, not counting the windows. The lobby, the gathering room, the outside steps running to my quarters and a family suite in the east wing, and the back, through the utility room off the kitchen.”
    “That’s good.” Panting a bit, he considered the possibilities. “The kitchen. We’ll take the kitchen. I’ll have water and food there in case this takes a while. Come on.” He kept a hand in her hair and the gun at the base of her neck.
    ***
    His eyes on the inn, Roman paced back and forth behind the barricade of police