Another gliding step forward. “You panicked and screwed up. There’s no escaping now. No pinning the crimes on someone else.”
The night was thick with fury, but eerily silent. So silent.
Greg was clinging tightly to Lauren, backing her up even more, moving them toward the rickety dock. Toward the boat that waited there.
Just like Walker. Greg thought he’d get away on the boat. But then, Greg had admitted he’d taught Walker everything.
Including how to escape.
“You let me get on the boat,” Greg spoke feverishly. “When I’m clear, I’ll let her go.”
“No, he won’t! He’ll…kill…me!” Lauren gasped the words out against his hold.
Anthony didn’t buy for a minute that Greg would just let Lauren walk away from this night.
“You aren’t getting her on that boat.” He couldn’t let it happen. If Greg got Lauren on that boat, she was dead.
Greg was just a few feet from it.
“There’s no escape for you,” Anthony told him. “Not this time.”
“What are you gonna do?” Greg taunted. “Shoot me? Shoot her? You’re the hero. The hero doesn’t get to shoot the victim!”
The hero didn’t let the woman he loved die.
“I won’t be shooting the victim.” Anthony’s voice was calm and certain.
Then it happened. The moment he’d been waiting for, praying for. Greg stumbled on the dock, on a loose piece of wood, and his grip on Lauren slackened. Lauren lunged away.
Anthony fired. The bullet slammed into Greg’s chest. The ME stumbled back. He hit the edge of the rickety dock, and tumbled into the water.
Anthony jumped forward and grabbed Lauren. “Baby, are you okay?” His fingers rose, checking the wound on her throat.
She gave a weak nod. “Anthony…”
She’d just scared twenty years of his life way.
The wound on her neck was still bleeding, but it wasn’t too deep, thank Christ. He pulled her against his chest. Held her tight.
Then he heard the rustle of water. Anthony immediately hauled Lauren behind him, shielding her with his body. But the rustle hadn’t come from Greg. It had come from a gator sliding from the bank and sinking beneath the water.
“Where is he?” Lauren asked, her fingers tight on Anthony’s arm. “Where is he?”
Anthony flashed his light across the area. The surface of the water was black. The gator had vanished, and there was barely even a ripple of movement in that water.
“I hit him.” He knew he had. He’d heard the thud of impact. “But I don’t think I killed him.”
His hold tightened on his weapon.
You have to come up for air sometime, bastard. The guy would come up for air, and he’d try to go for his boat. His escape.
There would be no more escapes.
Anthony gave Lauren his flashlight. He kept one hand on her, and the other stayed securely around his weapon. He slid back one step, and another, wanting to get her off the dock.
The dock.
Greg would have needed to come up for a gasp of breath by then. If you want air, without anyone seeing you take it, you go under the damn dock to get it.
Anthony stilled. He aimed his gun at the small gaps between the slats of wood of the dock. He waited…waited…
“Anthony?” Lauren asked quietly, fear roughening her voice.
He saw a glint of light below. A glint that would come from the knife Greg had held. Kept your weapon, huh? That’s not gonna help you.
He fired even as he pushed Lauren back. Once, twice, he fired his weapon, wanting to make Greg move, wanting to draw the bastard out so he could finish him.
But nothing happened. No jostling of water. No cries of pain.
Silence.
His gaze slid to the boat. That was Greg’s escape. He’d need to disable it, and then they could—
“Ross!” It was the FBI agent, Kyle, breaking through the brush and running toward them. “What the hell is happening? Where’s—”
A motor roared to life. The boat. Shit. Anthony spun around just as the boat began to lurch away from the dock.
No escape.
He rushed forward and jumped off the dock, flying through the air as he chased after his prey. His prey wouldn’t kill again.
Behind him, Lauren screamed.
“Is he gonna make it?” Paul’s voice was a low whisper, as if he was afraid Wesley would hear his words.
Wesley wasn’t going to hear anything else.
“No.” His blood covered her hands. She’d tried, but there had been nothing she could do. She hadn’t even been able to ease his pain.
Wesley wasn’t struggling to speak anymore. No more gasping breaths.
No more pain now.
“Shit, he’s dead?”
Cadence glanced up at Paul. She nodded even as she tried to shove down the ball of impotent fury in her throat.
Kyle hadn’t come back. Fear was snaking in her heart. Everywhere she looked, she seemed to see the dead.
Not Kyle. The man knew how to handle himself better than any other agent she’d met. Hell, he’d saved her ass more than a few times.
I need to be out there. With him.
“The key to the cuffs—I dropped it on the floor over there.”
She stared back at Paul.
“Dammit, trust me, I’m your backup, I—”
Cadence bent and grabbed the key. “We find Kyle, we find Ross, and we stop Greg Wright.”
Then she heard it—the blast of a gunshot. She scrambled with the key, hurrying to unlock the cuffs. The second the cuffs dropped to the floor, she and Paul ran through the back door.
Another gunshot thundered.
She saw the marshal. Jim. Down. Her fingers pressed to his pulse.
Dead, dammit. Another dead.
They ran through the woods. They found Matt—still alive.
Who else was alive?
Who else was dead?
Kyle…not him. Please not him. Kyle had to live. She needed him.
An engine kicked to life. Cadence had to leave the wounded marshal as she ran desperately toward the sound.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
With horror filling her, Lauren watched as Anthony flew over the dock and into the small boat. His body slammed into Greg’s. Greg swiped out at Anthony with the knife he still held.
Anthony drove his head into Greg’s. The knife glinted once more as Greg shoved it at Anthony.
No one was steering the boat. It bounced on the waves, rattling hard, and then—
Greg slipped on the edge of the boat. He tumbled toward the black water. He grabbed Anthony’s arm, sending them both crashing into the water.