CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The man immediately outside the door, the one who had kicked it in, was the large bald man that Reid had spoken to earlier. He filled the narrow doorway, shoulders heaving, gaze angry—and was met with the barrel of a pistol three feet from his face.
Reid had the Glock aloft, gripped in both hands. He didn’t want to shoot anyone, but he wasn’t lying when he told Bill that nothing, no one, would get between him and his girls.
For a moment neither man spoke; they simply stared.
At long last the large dock worker put his hands up slowly. “Hey,” he said. “Nobody needs to get hurt here, all right?”
“Back up,” Reid ordered. “Get back.”
The man took a step back, down the three wooden steps that led up to the trailer, all without taking his eyes off of Reid or the gun. The wo
