Page 80 of Viper

He kicked open the door. It slammed against drywall, and shards of the wooden frame shot out around him like the contents of a grenade.

He ran inside. A scream rang out from somewhere in the house—female but not Paige.

“On the ground!” he yelled.

Striker and Havoc flanked him as they pivoted from the foyer into a short hallway. They moved swiftly down the hall and into a kitchen-and-living-room combo.

A young woman stood near the couch balancing a baby on her hip with one arm. Her wide, terrified eyes locked on him. A handgun sat snugly in her shaking hand.

“Get out!” she bellowed, spit flying.

“Ma’am.” Striker took a step in her direction, slow and cautious. “Put the gun down. We’re not here for you.”

The baby let out a loud wail, bringing even more anxiety to the woman’s twisted face. Havoc moved a pace behind Striker.

Troy’s chest cinched with agony. Jesus, he didn’t want a baby to get hurt—or a young mother, for Christ’s sake. But if she didn’t lower the gun and calm the fuck down that just might happen.

She shook her head and bounced on her toes, aiming the gun right at Striker’s chest. “No! Get away from me! Don’t hurt my baby!”

Her eyes filled with tears.

From the corner of his eye, Troy caught sight of Wraith and Reaper outside the sliding-glass door across the room. A coffee table and couch separated them, but the guys would have a clear view of what was happening.

“Listen,” Troy began. “We’re looking for Spencer Vokle. Is he here?”

She let out a loose, wet laugh, and for a moment her grip on the gun faltered. Some of the tension looped around Troy’s neck eased.

“Ha. That bastard can burn in hell for all I care.”

The baby let out another cry. She rocked the little guy, gently bouncing him.

Troy took his finger off the trigger of his gun and held up the weapon “We don’t want to hurt you. Please put down the gun and you can take care of your baby while we have a quick look around.”

She sniffed. “He didn’t send you?”

“No,” he said firmly. “We’re here because he’s helping his stepbrother Craig, who’s wanted for murder.”

Her face went slack. She dropped her arm, bringing Troy’s blood pressure down with it.

He quickly waved at Havoc and Striker to lower their weapons too, before she felt threatened again.

“I knew it,” she spat. “I told him this was the last straw. He never says no to that pervert. Craig is a sick, sick man.”

Troy’s attention sparked. “Was he here? Craig?”

She swallowed and looked uncertain but kept the gun down. “A couple days ago, yeah. He spent the night here which caused a fight between Spencer and I. I told him I was going to turn Craig in. Seeing his wanted notice on social media was the proof I needed.”

“Proof of what?” Striker asked, moving to sit on the loveseat and gesturing for her to take the couch.

She wet her lips and glanced at Troy then sat. The baby appeared to relax, his curious eyes taking in the men invading his living room.

Troy wriggled his fingers and the infant gave him a big toothy grin.

“Proof that his stepbrother is a psychopath. Spencer and I have been together for four years, and I’ve always known something isn’t right with Craig. He’s always given me the creeps. When that woman died . . . what was her name?”

“Annamay Lewis,” Troy said.

She nodded. “Yes. He’d just gotten to town the day before. I-I can’t explain it, but I knew it was him. I felt it in my bones.”