She couldn’t believe it.
Chris had been one of her father’s best friends. And Brandon was far from a perfect human being, but they were all far from perfect.
And Kenneth Malcolm...
She turned. And she turned just in time to see him smile and reach behind his back, under his always-perfect jacket, and produce a gun.
“Sorry, Skylar, I was going to try to make this a little easier for you... I really do like your father’s songs and the way that you do them, but...”
“Let her go!” Chris demanded. “What, are you going to shoot me, with FBI agents running all over the place?”
“Uh, yeah, no problem.”
Kenneth Malcolm fired, and Chris went down and before she could run to him, Malcolm had his hands on her, fingers through her hair, dragging her with him and away from the fallen man and his stricken son.
She let out a scream that could have wakened the dead, but Kenneth Malcolm shouted almost as loudly.
“One more sound out of you and I shoot Brandon, too!”
He aimed at Brandon.
She gritted her teeth, stared at him and said, “Don’t you dare—lead the damned way!”
And he did, lifting a ring in the floor and forcing her down a ladder ahead of him.
CHASE HEARD SKYLAR’S scream just as the door slammed shut behind him. He hurried toward the sound and was just in time to see that Chris Wiley was on the ground, bleeding, with Brandon hovering over him, screaming for help.
He paused by Chris, hitting a speed dial that instantly brought Wellington’s voice to his ear.
“Man down, we need an ambulance, now,” Chase said.
“It’s a flesh wound,” Chris groaned. “Go, go, go—he’s got Skylar.”
“Malcolm?”
“He threatened to shoot me, too, if Sky didn’t move. She basically told him to go to hell, but...she moved. She wouldn’t let him shoot me,” Brandon said.
“Please...”
There was no pretense going on anymore; Chase could hear sirens blazing through the night.
“Chris, they’re on the way—”
“I’m fine. My shoulder...well, hell, it’s good I’m not the drummer!” Chris said.
“Where?”
“Into the floor.”
“The floor—a trapdoor, there!” Brandon said, pointing it out. Chase had to admit he hadn’t even thought about a stage basement. They didn’t use it for their rock shows; when theatrical performances were put on, characters and set pieces could be moved up and down.
He nodded, feeling like an idiot, hurrying to the spot where there was a small metal ring that brought up a three-by-three piece of the flooring, revealing a ladder.
He moved down it cautiously, quickly speaking with Wellington, advising him as to his position and letting him know that the man had Sky.
Only dim light filtered through from above. No one had thought about the area—it wasn’t being used.
But then, maybe they’d figured this would just be too simple. Wait and see who was picking up the goods and nab them after making sure that threatened families were safe.
He should have known better. Nothing in life was ever easy. He shouldn’t have left Skylar, but if he hadn’t...
They would never know that there had been a pass-off, that there were more people involved here than they had imagined.
Malcolm. Chase had thought of him. But he’d also set his name aside because he hadn’t been at the other venues. Apparently, this whole thing was bigger than even Wellington had imagined.
He reached the ground. The area was empty, other than a few large storage containers. He drew a penlight from his pocket, desperately searching.
If they had come down here, where the hell—
He saw a panel to his left and determined that it had to slide, lead somewhere.
It did.
Across the area to the rear of the stage, beyond, and to another ladder that led up to...the door backstage. The one he had come through. The one in lockdown now...
But Kenneth Malcolm was the one who managed the venue. The one who had probably studied the blueprints a zillion times over.
He was the one person who would know how to silence alarms and bypass a lockdown.
