Chapter 12
Raul was posted at the front window, where he could look down the hill toward the lake. He didn't have to wait long. He saw them coming through the trees. They were in old clothes, and Roger was carrying the tackle box.
He called to Gaby. "Now look, no matter what happens, you stay put in here until after I leave with them."
She smiled palely. He gave her shoulder a squeeze and went back to the door and waited for it to pen.
At the sight of Raul, Roger broke into a smile. "We pulled it off, lad." His smile faded to a frown. "What are you...?"
Raul hardly heard him. He dove at Lamar as he came in. Raul hit him across the mouth and Lamar reeled against the wall. He came off the wall snarling, arms flying, there was something almost womanish in his fury.
Raul knocked his hands aside and landed a solid blow high on the cheek.
Lamar staggered back. Raul, thinking he was trying to escape, stalked him.
Then Lamar faced around, his hand coming from under his jacket. Raul stopped short. There was a gun in the hand. Raul cursed himself for not providing for some kind of weapon. Instinctively he threw himself forward and down, his hands groping blindly.
The roar of the gun was loud in the room. Raul felt the bullet whistle past his face. Then he had Lamar's wrist in both hands. They fell together, rolling over and over. Finally they came to a stop with Raul on top, still clinging to the hand with the gun. Desperately he beat Lamar's arm against the floor, trying to dislodge the gun.
Paul held onto it. And, with a grunting effort, he tore his wrist free of Raul's grip. Like a striking snake, the gun swung up to bear on Raul. He lashed out. His fingers caught hold and clung.
This time the explosion was muffled between their bodies. Heat seared Raul's fingers as Paul grunted hoarsely, his body arching high off the floor, then going limp.
Slowly Raul got to his knees. Paul lay motionless, a ragged hole in his shirt.
Wearily, Raul got up and faced Roger. The man was holding the gun, pointed directly at him.
"You might as well know, lad. Paul didn't do the shooting; I did." "Why, Roger. Why?"
"The man stood between you and the girl. I did it for you, lad. I thought that with him dead, you'd change your mind and go along with the caper, just as we planned."
"Sacre. I didn't want him killed."
Roger wasn't listening. His eyes had a feverish glitter. "You know, lad. I was the one everybody was frightened of. Not poor Lamar. Me, with my disguised voice..."
Listening to Roger -this man he had once held in such affection -Raul felt empty.
"Roger, give me the gun," he said softly.
Gently, Raul took the gun from the man's limp fingers. Roger slumped against the wall, his head in his hands. Dry sobs shook his plump form as Raul bound his hands and feet to a heavy kitchen chair.
Raul turned away, toward the bedroom. Gaby was following instructions. She hadn't shown herself.
"Well, what do we do, Gaby?"
She looked at him tenderly. "Better take Roger down the hill and turn in that money fast. At most, I figure you'll only get a couple of years -and Denise will wait for you. With me, you'll be running the rest of your life.."
She winked like a good sport and gave him a farewell bump and grind with her fabulous ass and twat as she passed out of his life.