Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” She’d seen it time and time again, every time he’d looked at her for the last two years. She was so tired of it. If John Finch had a family, it was the FBI. Not Charlie. “Good-bye, Dad. Please don’t try to send anyone for me again.” She hung up before he could say something to make the emotional bleeding worse.
A car pulled up next to her, and the back door opened. She cursed. “Tell my dad…” Charlie trailed off as she registered the gun pointed at her. Distantly, she heard running and yelling, but there was no way whoever was on her protection detail would reach her in time.
Mae smiled, her dark lipstick stark against her pale face. “Get in the car, bitch.”
Charlie weighed her odds, but even at this hour, there were other people on the street. She’d get someone killed if she tried to run—Mae didn’t seem the type to spare innocent bystanders if she thought she could shoot Charlie in the back. And she was too far away for Charlie to rush her without getting shot at least twice, maybe three times, depending on how fast Mae could pull the trigger.
“This isn’t going to get you what you want.”
“Maybe what I want is you—dead.” Mae motioned with her free hand. “Either get in the car or I’ll put two in your chest right here. Your choice.”
Rule number one in any hostile scenario was to never get into the car and be transported to a secondary location. Charlie didn’t have that option. Mae would definitely be true to her word, and she liked her chances of escaping better if she could lull the other woman into underestimating her.
She lifted her hands slowly. “No need to shoot me. I’m coming with you.”
She was almost to the car when Mae’s smile widened. “You may be, but I’m not a fan of your men.” She grabbed Charlie’s arm and hauled her into the backseat as she pulled the trigger. Charlie twisted around and caught a glimpse of Liam lying on the ground, blood leaking from his chest. Then the car shot away from the curb.
Oh my God, what have I done?
* * *
Aiden’s heart stopped when he heard the sound of gunshots. Too close. He ran down the porch steps, sprinting in the direction Charlie had taken just moments before. He wanted to chalk it up to a car backfiring, but here in the upscale Beacon Hill neighborhood, where he’d lived his entire life, he could count on one hand how many times he’d heard that sound and still have fingers left over. It was too much of a coincidence.
He picked up speed. There weren’t many people out this late, but a small group had gathered halfway down the block. No. Not Charlie. To have narrowly avoided this exact thing mere days before and then find her bleeding—dead?—on the street…If he lost her, it had damn well better be because she walked away on her own strength.
Not because she was dead.
He slid between two men who were shifting nervously, like they knew they should be doing something but had no idea what. Aiden nearly tripped over his own feet as he went to his knees. “No.”
Liam had a hand pressed to his chest, but even in the low light, it was easy to see he was covered in blood. “Mae took her.”
“Save your strength.” Aiden stripped off his own shirt and adjusted Liam’s hand so he could press the fabric to the wound. Aiden pointed at one of the nervous men. “Call 911. Now. Tell them we have a gunshot wound and that he’s lost a lot of blood.” He leaned closer to Liam and lowered his voice. “I’m not losing you, damn it, so if you see a light or some shit, you stay the fuck away.”
“Yes, sir.”
He watched for coughing up blood, his memory of the night when Devlin died trying to superimpose itself over this one. One of the Halloran bullets had pierced his little brother’s lung, and Devlin had drowned in his own blood. He tried to judge where Liam had been hit—and what vital organs there were in that part of his chest—but he couldn’t be sure. Liam’s breathing was labored but not wet-sounding, which had to be a good thing. If Aiden could keep him from bleeding out, they might have a chance.
Sirens cut through the night, and Liam grabbed Aiden’s wrist with a surprisingly strong grip. “Mae took her. Dark car. Didn’t get plates.”
“You were a little busy being shot.” He’d deal with the ramifications of Charlie being in Mae’s tender care as soon as the paramedics loaded Liam into an ambulance. He couldn’t leave one of his oldest friends here on the street like a piece of trash. He just couldn’t.