by Cynthia Eden
“Me,” a hard voice said from the darkness.
A hard…familiar voice.
Anthony surged to his feet and turned toward the taunting voice.
Kyle rushed into the cabin, shoving aside the already broken door, with Cadence right on his heels. Her partner had his gun ready as he swept the room.
It was too damn dark. She grabbed for the light switch, but nothing happened.
Kyle had already gotten out his flashlight. She fumbled for hers and saw—
The detective—Paul—trying to unlock a pair of handcuffs. Wesley Hawthorne was at his feet, a bloody mess.
“Freeze!” Kyle roared.
Paul’s shoulders stiffened. “Not again.” He looked up. “It’s not fucking me!” He raised his cuffed hands and pointed toward the back door. “Ross went out that way. Lauren’s missing…go find her!”
Emotion shook beneath his words. She wanted to believe the guy, but she couldn’t ignore the wounded man at his feet. Cautiously, Cadence advanced so she could check on Wesley.
When she got a good look at him, her breath hissed out. With that kind of trauma, the guy was lucky to still be breathing. Actually, she wasn’t quite sure how he was still breathing.
“Cadence?” Kyle stood protectively over her, his weapon drawn.
“It wasn’t me!” Paul screamed. “Look, Ross is out there. The other marshals should have been helping him, but something happened. If you won’t help them, I will.” He lunged forward and slammed into the barrel of Kyle’s gun.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Kyle growled, his voice lethal. “Now you settle the hell down.”
“Know…”
The grated whisper came from Wesley.
She leaned forward, heart racing. “Stay still.” She wasn’t sure how long the guy had. He needed to be airlifted out of there, freaking ASAP. A trauma unit would have to be on standby for him. Looking up at her partner, she said, “Kyle, we need a medevac—”
“Know…shot…me…”
Wesley had a giant hole in his head, and the man was still managing to speak. Talk about a fighter.
“Was it Paul?” she asked, leaning close to see his response.
“No…”
“What did he say?” Paul shouted. “Did he say it wasn’t me?”
“Was…right…”
“Right? Who’s—” She sucked in a sharp breath, understanding. Not right. Wright. Her head snapped up. “Kyle, get out there! See if you can find Ross!”
He hesitated. His gaze slid from her to Paul. He didn’t trust the detective. Neither did she, not with this scene, no matter what a bleeding man was telling her.
She’d learned long ago not to take risks.
Cadence lifted her gun. Centered it on Paul. “I’ve got this.” She’d stay until help arrived for Wesley. She’d keep Paul covered.
Kyle gave a grim nod, then headed for the back door.
“Fuck,” Paul yelled, his body vibrating with tension. “I can help.”
“Yeah, you can. Come over here and help me to save Wesley’s life.”
Dr. Greg Wright held Lauren in front of him, his knife at her throat. Her bleeding throat.
Anthony lifted his weapon, aiming for the man’s head. He could take the shot, easily missing Lauren, but…
Would the man have time to slash her throat before Greg went down?
“You don’t want to risk it,” Greg said as he backed deeper into the swamp. “You know if you so much as tighten that finger around the trigger, I’ll kill her long before your bullet can hit me.”
Anthony walked with him, matching the killer’s steps. Lauren was dead silent, her body shaking. He kept his flashlight on them. The gun was a solid weight in his hand.
It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.
He couldn’t say those words because they weren’t true. Instead, Anthony said, “It’s over, Greg. Cops are going to swarm this place any minute. There’s no place for you to go.”
Greg’s laughter cut through his words. “I know this swamp. I can disappear in five minutes, and your damn dogs and your cops won’t be able to catch me. I can vanish.”
“You’ll be a wanted man. Hunted.”
Lauren sucked in a sharp breath when the knife pressed deeper into her skin. Blood slid from the wound.
“They shouldn’t have known about me!” Rage bit through Greg’s words. “Walker screwed up the deal. No one was supposed to know.”
Anthony’s shoulders and arms had locked as he took his aim. He would not drop the gun. “You were the silent partner, right? The one always pulling the strings.”
Greg backed up a few more steps. The trees were twisting around them, blocking out even more of the faint light. The murky water of the swamp waited just yards away.
“I taught him,” Greg said, the words little more than a whisper. “He knew nothing until I showed him. He couldn’t even kill without vomiting everywhere!”
Lauren’s hands lifted. She curled her fingers around Greg’s arm and yanked. “Let me go!”
He held her tighter. “I knew he was like me.” Greg’s eyes were on Anthony. “I could tell the first time we met…I could tell.”
“Tell what?” Anthony demanded, fighting to keep his own rage and fear under control. “That he was another sick freak?”
“That he had the need! We were meant to be more than fucking cattle, like everyone else in those schools. We weren’t meant to shuffle down the hallways. We were meant to be more.”
Lauren stopped struggling. Just froze. “Did you become more when you killed my sister?”
Another low, chilling laugh came from Greg. “She liked me, did you know that? Liked the boy who couldn’t play football and who wasn’t the fucking class president. She’d meet me after school. Let me kiss her. Touch her.” He gave a hard shake of his head. “Then she tried to leave me!”
“And you killed her?” Pain broke Lauren’s words.”
“Jenny was mine. She should have known. I was never going to let her go.” More steps backward. A gator’s eyes gleamed from the dark water. “When you love someone, you want that person to stay with you forever.” He laughed once more, and it was a taunting sound. “Don’t you feel that way about her, Ross? I’ve seen the way you look at Lauren. Don’t you want to be with her forever?”
“Yes,” Anthony gritted.
“I showed Jenny just how strong I was. In the end,” Greg’s voice whispered, sliding through the night. “She knew.”
She knew you were a fucking killer.
“But the DA didn’t know,” Greg said, his mouth brushing over Lauren’s cheek. “I was beside you, Lauren, for so many days—and you never knew.” Rough laughter. “It felt so good to be that close, and now…now you’ll finally see what I can do.”
“No!” Anthony shouted back at him. He huffed out a hard breath. “I’ll drop my gun, if you let her go.”
Even in the darkness, he could see Greg shake his head. “It was supposed to be so easy. I had it all planned. Hawthorne was the killer, it was him.”
“Hawthorne’s still alive, and he’s going to tell the world what you did.” Maybe. The guy hadn’t exactly been showing a whole lot of life thanks to the fucking bullet in the head.
Another frantic shake of Greg’s head. “He shot himself! He shot—”
“He’s left-handed.” Anthony took a slow, gliding step toward Greg and Lauren. He hated the smell of her blood. Hated her pain and fear. “That was a stupid mistake for someone like you to make.”
“Left-handed?”
“Yeah, if he’d wanted to blow out his own brains, I think he would have used his dominant hand, don’t you?”
Rage twisted Greg’s face. “Voyt was coming! I heard his motorcycle! I had to hurry—”
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 cling
ing 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.
The boat rushed away, heading into the dark.
Lauren ran toward the dock, with Kyle rushing to her side. “Where are they?” Lauren demanded. Her throat hurt, a raw, burning pain from the slices. Blood soaked her skin, but she didn’t care.
She only cared about Anthony.
A dark head broke the water. The flashlight fell on him. Anthony. Her breath rushed out.
Greg’s upper body shot out of the darkness. Water flew around him, and he drove the knife in his hand straight at Anthony’s unprotected back.
“No!” Lauren screamed, and she jumped in the water.
A gunshot fired behind her.
Kyle’s bullet had missed its target. The knife had thrust into Anthony’s shoulder. As she tried to get to him, Anthony spun around—never crying out in pain, never making a sound—and knocked the weapon out of Greg’s hand. Fighting, both men sank under the water, only to jump back to the surface moments later.
Greg won’t stop. Like one of those twisted horror show killers, he just wouldn’t freaking stop.
Not until they stopped him.
Something hard and rough brushed by Lauren’s feet as she fought to swim. A gator? She recoiled. Then she swam faster. Faster.
The knife was thrust at Anthony again.
Something splashed behind her. Please be Kyle coming to help. Not a gator. With all the blood in the water, the gators would be drawn in fast.
Anthony and Greg vanished once more.
The boat’s motor was a low growl in the d
istance.
The splashing behind her was louder.
She whirled.
Kyle. Kyle was there. With his face grim and gun still clutched in his hand.
“Lauren…”
The voice came from behind her.
It wasn’t Anthony’s.
She grabbed for Kyle’s gun, but he held tight. They both aimed it as they spun toward Greg.
He wasn’t advancing on them. He was staring at Lauren—shock, longing, pain—all twisting in his face.
Anthony was behind him.
He had Greg’s knife. It was now pressed to the killer’s throat.
“It’s over,” Anthony snarled.
Lauren pulled her gaze from Greg and saw Cadence and Paul swimming toward them.
“Don’t kill him!” Cadence yelled. “Dammit, Ross, don’t!”
Lauren knew Anthony wanted to kill him. She wanted him dead, too. The temptation was so strong, and Lauren knew all she had to do was tell Anthony…
Do it.
And he would.
“Think of the victims!” Cadence cried out.
She was thinking of the victims. Jenny. Lauren’s lips parted.
“Their families! They need closure. He can take us to the bodies. He’s the only one who knows where they are.”
Dammit.
Anthony kept the knife at Greg’s throat. Lauren knew he was waiting for her response.
She shook her head.
The families.
They all needed peace.
Anthony held tight to the killer. Kyle was at his side. They had the bastard.
The water was cold against Lauren’s skin. Tears burned her eyes. Tears she wouldn’t shed, not yet. She was frozen in the water as the others closed in on the killer.
Paul cuffed Greg. The men towed him to shore while Cadence helped Lauren back to land. Cadence checked Lauren’s throat and asked her over and over if she was all right.
All right didn’t come close.
She couldn’t take her gaze off Greg. His head was down, his shoulders slumped, and he wasn’t saying a thing.
Sirens wailed in the distance. The rest of the cavalry, riding to the rescue. But the battle was over.
Wasn’t it?
