“I knew this would all come down to family,” Lucy said. “How did you find out that you were related to Brinker?” she asked.
“Pure chance.” Cecil smiled. “I grew up with nothing. My mother used to gripe about how her lover gave her a few thousand bucks and dumped her when she got pregnant. He told her to get an abortion and assumed she did just that. But she spent the money on dope. By the time I got old enough to ask questions, she was so deep into the drugs I couldn’t believe anything she said. After the old lady died, I found some photos in her closet. I got curious about my family history and went online.”
“You discovered that you were Jeffrey Brinker’s son and that he had ignored you in his will. So you started digging deeper.”
“Imagine my surprise when I realized how badly my old man had been shafted by Warner Colfax.”
“And how you, in turn, had been stiffed. You set out to get revenge.”
“That’s it in a nutshell.”
That shadow shifted again. This time Brinker noticed. He started to turn around.
Mason spoke from behind a gleaming tank.
“Down, Lucy.”
Lucy reacted instinctively to Mason’s command, throwing herself behind a row of casks.
Shots boomed in the room. Lucy heard a gun clatter on the floor.
“You damned son of a bitch,” Cecil grated.
Heavy footsteps echoed in the cavernous space.
Lucy peeked around the corner of the row of casks. She saw Cecil running toward the front door, clutching his shoulder.
Mason appeared from behind a tank.
“Get his gun,” he ordered.
He went after Cecil.
“He’s headed your way, Quinn,” he shouted.
Lucy managed to stagger to her feet. She emerged from behind the casks and started toward the gun. She got two steps before she felt the sharp pain in her bare foot. She halted, looked down and saw the blood.
“Damn, damn, damn.”
She raised her foot and yanked out the shard of broken glass. Blood rushed from the wound. It should have hurt, she thought, but she felt nothing, just a curiously numb sensation.
She limped forward a few more steps and scooped up Cecil’s weapon. She had never held a gun in her life. It was surprisingly heavy.
There was a commotion and some shouting from the other end of the winery. She made her way forward, trailing blood.
“Mason,” she yelled.
“Stay back,” he ordered.
She stopped, but she could see him now. He had his back to her, his gun in his hand. She took in the situation in an instant.
Warner Colfax was on his feet, dazed but very much aware of what was going on. Cecil had his injured arm around Colfax’s neck. There was a large, antique iron corkscrew in his good hand. The sharp tip of the corkscrew was aimed at Colfax’s throat. Colfax’s face was frozen with panic.
“Give it up, Dillon,” Mason said. “It’s over.”
“It’s Colfax’s fault,” Cecil said, his voice harsh with rage. “Everything. He cheated my father, and my father cheated me.”
“Killing him won’t fix any of it,” Mason said.
Colfax’s jaw worked. “I didn’t cheat Brinker, I swear it.”
“You lie,” Cecil said. “You knew he wasn’t thinking straight. He’d just found out he had a bad heart and his son had been declared dead. You took advantage of that to make him a lowball offer for his share of the company. I went back and read all the papers, you son of a bitch. This isn’t over until you go down.”
He pulled the iron corkscrew back a few inches, preparing to sink it deep into Colfax’s throat.
“No,” Colfax screamed. “No, please. I’ll pay you whatever you want.”
“I don’t want your money,” Cecil said. “I was going to destroy everything you had and walk away with millions. But that’s not going to happen now, so I want you dead. It’s the least I can do to avenge dear old Mom and Dad.”
Quinn loomed in the shadows. He had a bottle of wine in his hands. He brought it down on Cecil’s skull in a sweeping motion that sent Cecil pitching to the side.
Cecil grunted and collapsed, groaning.
Warner Colfax scrambled frantically away from the fallen man. He stared at Cecil, and then he looked at Quinn, uncomprehending.
Quinn gave him a thin smile. “So much for following your gut when it comes to hiring a CEO.”
The sirens were louder now. Lucy heard the first vehicles pull into the parking lot and screech to a halt.
Mason glanced at Lucy again. He started to speak. Then he noticed the blood leaking from her foot.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “I stepped on some glass. Don’t worry. Some of the blood on the floor came from Cecil.”
Mason took the gun from her hand and gave it to Quinn.
“Keep an eye on them.”
“They’re not going anywhere,” Quinn said.
“Watch out for Beth. She’s unconscious back there near the lab, but she might wake up.”
“Understood,” Quinn said.
Mason tucked his own gun into the waistband of his trousers and scooped Lucy up into his arms.
“I’m okay, really,” she said.
He carried her out the door into the sunlight.
“We need a medic here,” he said in his cop’s voice.
Cops, firemen and medics were swarming across the parking lot. Deke and Joe emerged out of the controlled chaos. They headed toward Mason and Lucy.
“Is she all right?” Deke asked.
“I’m fine,” Lucy said. “It’s just blood.”
Someone in a uniform raced toward them, medical kit in hand.
“What have we go here?” he said.
He looked at Mason, not Lucy.
“It’s not that bad, really,” Lucy said.
Mason ignored her.
“Broken glass,” he said to the medic.
“Get her to the aid car,” the medic said. “I’ll take a look.”
Chief Whitaker materialized out of the crowd.
“What’s the situation inside?” he asked.
“Under control,” Mason said. “Quinn’s in charge in there. He’ll explain everything. Oh, yeah, you’ll need some medics too. Three people down, including Beth Crosby and Cecil Dillon. Those two are the bad guys.”
He moved around Whitaker and carried Lucy to the aid car, where the medic waited.
“It’s not that bad,” Lucy said. “Seriously.”