Chapter Eleven
“I’m right here,” Luke said. “Here’s my gun.” He slid his SIG across the hardwood floor and stepped into the living room, seeing his mom on her knees with such fear in her face, in her blue eyes, and Eva pressed against her in her arms. A gun was held steady behind her head.
There was just one man there: brown hair, hazel eyes, thirtyish. Luke didn’t have a clue who this was. He’d never seen him before. He was slender, wearing a black knit sweater, blue jeans. The gun he held was similar to Luke’s, military grade.
“You seem to know who I am, but I don’t know who you are,” Luke said. “Tell me your name. You said I have your father, so you break into my brother’s place?”
He took in the way the man stood, not nervous, comfortable with a gun, wearing gloves so as not to leav
