Page 1 of Lock ’N’ Load

Prologue

Forty years ago

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the unbearable pain to stop. It didn’t.

With every breath, her ribs screamed in agony, to the point where she nearly blacked out. The muscles in her abdomen spasmed from the fresh blows, never having completely healed from the last beating. Her left eye throbbed and was so swollen, she could barely see out of it.

Gritting her teeth, she pressed her palms on the cheap linoleum kitchen floor, trying to push up on her hands, but there was no traction and she fell back down with a painful thud. It was impossible, she now realized. In her weakened state—and with the floor so covered in blood—her hands kept slipping.

“Mama!” her little boy cried.

“Stay there!” She held up her hand, gasping as another shaft of pain speared her entire upper body.

Her son’s pale cheeks were streaked with tears, as were hers. Although she didn’t know whether his were from seeing her like this or the terror of what was before them.

Lying in the ever-widening pool of blood surrounding her was her husband’s deer-gutting butcher knife. And her dead husband.

The flow of thick, sticky blood that had poured from the gaping wound in his belly and the deep slice in his neck had gradually slowed to a trickle. From the amount of blood, she’d guess the knife had sliced into an artery somewhere.

“We have to get out of here, Billy,” she whispered on a strained exhale. She took another agonizing breath, this one shallower, so it didn’t hurt so much. “Walk around the blood and help me. Careful not to step in it.” She didn’t want to leave any sign that her son had been there, including any bloody sneaker prints.

Billy stared at her, his watery blue eyes wide, his hands trembling. Still, he didn’t move, and the realization had her worrying that he’d be mentally scarred for life.

First things first.

“Billy, sweetie. I need your help. Can you come over here and help Mama?” Painful though she knew it would be, she raised her arm, wincing as her ribs screamed in protest. Surely several of them were cracked. “Come quickly. Please,” she added when he didn’t budge.

“O-okay.” His chest rose and fell, and to her relief, he began skirting around the blood, keeping his back to the kitchen counter.

She grabbed the bloody knife from the floor and began wiping it clean on her shirt. Even though her husband had a lengthy record, the police would still process this as a crime scene and look for the killer.

Another spasm ripped through her, and she dropped the knife, squeezing her eyes shut as she stifled a scream. When she opened them, her heart thudded. The knife had slithered well beyond her reach into the center of the bloody pool. Looking up at the ceiling, she sent out a silent prayer that she’d managed to clean off all the fingerprints.

“That’s good,” she said to Billy as he approached her from behind. “Now hold out your hand and keep it steady while you help me up. No matter what I say or do, just keep helping me to stand. Okay?”

Billy nodded, and after placing her hand in his, she took several deep breaths. What happened next would be excruciating, but it had to be done. Will’s brother, Avery, was due over shortly, and if her brother-in-law caught them there, she and her son would both surely die. Most likely, Avery would hack them to ribbons and enjoy every second of it. The son of a bitch.

She and Billy locked gazes. “Pull me up, and remember what I told you. No matter what I say, don’t stop.”

Without hesitating, he pulled. The scream she let out was high-pitched, like that of a wounded animal. Which was exactly what she was.

“Mama!” Billy cried when she was halfway to her feet.

“Don’t stop,” she hissed. White stars exploded in her vision, and she wavered, reaching frantically for the nearby counter. Billy was small for his age and might not be able to fully support her. If she fell to the floor, she doubted she’d be able to rise again.

Fumbling through the haze of agony, she grabbed for the edge of the laminate, gripping it so tightly several of her nails cracked. She sucked in shallow breaths, exhaling through her mouth until the spasms passed. Vaguely, she recognized Billy’s cries of concern, although his voice was muted, as if he were far, far away.

“I’m okay. Just give me a minute.” You don’t have a minute. Avery was coming, and his rage would be ten levels beyond Will’s worst. That was the way of the West Virginia Sands clan. Violence was their family legacy.

Gradually, she could begin to make out shapes from her one good eye. She blinked and shook her head to clear it, but that only intensified the throbbing.

Behind her, Billy threw his arms around her waist, plastering his body against hers. Covering her mouth with her hand, she muffled the scream rising in her throat from the tight contact around her battered midsection.

Grimacing, she eased away from him and snagged Will’s pickup truck keys from the hook by the kitchen door. “Let’s go.” She turned and tugged Billy’s hands from her waist, leading him to the door. With every step, her chest ached. Her eye throbbed. More than once, her knees nearly gave way out from under her.

“Mama, can I get my mitt?” His hopeful voice made her heart ache as they made their way slowly to the truck.

“No, sweetie.” Her steps were slow, mincing, but eventually they got to where Will’s pickup was parked in front of the old shed. “I’ll buy you a new one. I promise.”