Parker and I got out and waded into the crowd, our gazes shifting skyward, toward the buildings on either side of the square. The one on the left was nothing more than a wall of brick with no openings, and could easily be ruled out as a possible sniper's perch.
The building on the right had a number of floor to ceiling windows that looked from the outside as if they couldn't be opened—and we ruled it out as well.
I turned and looked behind us, at the building across the street, facing the square, an open-air parking structure about seven stories high.
"That's gotta be it," Parker said. "If she's here, that's where she is."
The children's choir was finishing up the song, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the speeches began and Ivan would take his place at the podium in the center of the square, making him the perfect target.
I nodded to Parker and started back through the crowd, but he put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me before I reached the street.
"Too dangerous," he said. "I'm going in alone."
"Come on, Zach, we've been over this."
"I don't care. I won't risk you getting hurt."
"So what am I supposed to do? Stand here with my thumb up my butt?"
"You can warn Ivan."
My eyebrows went up. "I thought you said that was a waste of time."
"It probably is, but at least it's worth a try. Get to him before he steps up to that podium. Tell him you think his life is in danger. Then clear out of there as quickly as you can."
"I don't like this," I said and gestured to his neck. "Look at you, you're still bleeding. You're not operating at a hundred percent."
"I told you I'm fine. Now get to Ivan before he gets to that podium."
Without another word, he kissed me—lingering for only a moment—then sprinted across the street and disappeared into the parking structure. I looked up toward the floors above, saw a few cars driving the ramps, but nothing out of the ordinary. Emily could have been hiding anywhere up there.
The children had finished their song and everyone was applauding. I turned, looking past the crowd toward the folding chairs as one of the dignitaries got to his feet and made his way to the podium.
Gregory Ivan sat watching him with a smile, his hands in his lap, clutching some index cards. Sucking in a breath, I was about to start toward him when I felt another hand on my shoulder—this one considerably less gentle than Parker's.
Before I could react, I was forcefully spun around and found myself face to face with Taggart. I made a noise in my throat and tried to back away, but he released my shoulder, grabbed me by the back of the neck, and spun me around again, shoving his gun into my side as he pushed me toward the street.
"Make a scene and I'll put a hole in your kidney."
"You've got this all wrong," I said. "We have to warn Ivan."
"Now why would I want to do that?"
"Gee, I don't know. Maybe because he's one of the men you work for?"
Taggart snorted. "You don't know what you think you know."
"Which part?" I asked. "That Ivan is Brotherhood or that you're working for them?"
"Both." He nudged me toward the street. "Now keep moving."
"I don't understand," I said.
"What a surprise."
"Ivan doesn't work for the Brotherhood?"
Taggart snorted again. "Gregory Ivan is one of the Brotherhood's worst enemies. He's spent his entire career trying to shut them down. And now that we've helped him do that, it's time to shut him down."
"What?"
He pushed me across the street toward the entrance to the parking structure. "Like I said, you don't know what you think you know. I don't work for the Brotherhood either, and you're just the whiny little bitch who got caught in the middle."
I tried to puzzle this out and then it hit me.
"You're working for Emily."
"Not for. With."
"Jesus Christ," I said. "You knew about me the whole time. And all that stuff you said when you had me in your car…"
He shrugged. "A little play-acting on my part. With all these bugs and trackers and such, you never know who might be listening and I like to cover my bases."
"You son of a bitch."
"That I am. And with the Brotherhood and their chief tormentor out of the way, we'll be in place to take over their territory."
"So all this is nothing more than a power play."
"That's right. And you're the decoy. Once Papanov was toast, we knew that what was left of the Brotherhood would be out for blood and my job was to make sure they went after you while Anastasia finished taking care of business. She capped off two more of their guys and now Ivan's the cherry on top."
"What about Parker? Why get him involved?"
"Because he's good at what he does, and I figured I'd let him do the bulk of the work for me, then take over from there. It's all about selling the story, hot stuff, and these Ukrainian idiots bought it all."
We had reached the parking structure and Taggart threw open the stairwell door.
"Now get inside and start climbing."
He nudged me with the gun and we hit the stairs and made our way to the seventh floor.
A sign on the door that led to the parking area read:
UNDER RENOVATION
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
Taggart threw the door open and pushed me forward and my gut filled with dread. The tableau I saw before me was one that will forever be etched in my mind.
The place was littered with plastic sheeting, scaffolding and construction equipment. A cement truck sat in the middle of the aisle, a sleek gray Jaguar parked next to it, looking completely out of place.
Emily Finn—my former BFF—was perched on a short, cylindrical cement piling, dressed in black, a pistol in one hand, a burning cigarette in the other. Mounted on the ledge in front of her was a sniper's rifle, pointed downward, toward Carriage Square.
But none of this held my attention. What caught my eye and forced a sharp, involuntary intake of breath, was the figure lying on the ground near the Jaguar, blood seeping out from the wound in his side.
It was Parker.
And he looked as if he was dying.
For real, this time.
THIRTY-NINE
I jerked away from Taggart and rushed to Parker. He was conscious, but he'd lost a lot of blood—so much blood—and his eyes were glazed and slowly losing their light.
I cradled him close, tears springing into my own eyes, and ran my hand over his head, smoothing back his hair.
I couldn't believe this was happening.
Emily took a drag off her cigarette, then blew smoke and said to Taggart, "Thanks for the warning. Who would've thought this fool would wind up giving us so much trouble?"
"I sure as hell didn't anticipate it."
She cocked a brow. "No, you didn't did you? So remind me again why I partnered up with you?"
"Don't start busting my balls, all right?" He gestured to the sniper's rifle. "Just do what you have to do and let's get the hell out of here."
"Do what I have to do," she said. "I've been sitting here thinking about just that. And you know what conclusion I've come to?"
"I wouldn't hazard a guess."
She smiled. "That you've served your function and I no longer need you."
She raised her pistol and fired. The silencer attached muffled the sound of the shot but it was still loud enough to make me flinch.
A small round hole opened up in Taggart's forehead and he flew backward, slammed against the cement wall, then slid to the ground, dead.
I watched this with utter disbelief, but didn't scream.
I didn't dare.
Parker squeezed my hand and I looked down at him. His mouth was moving, his eyes still showing life, shifting to the right, as if he was trying to direct my attention to something.
I followed his gaze and saw what he wanted me to see.
His pistol lay under the Jaguar, just
beneath the driver's door.
Then Emily addressed me for the first time. "I have to say, Kels, it's very touching to see how much you seem to care for this jerk. And in record time, too."
"Fuck you," I said.
"Ooooh, look at you, getting all aggressive and stuff. If you'd shown this much character when I met you, I probably would've moved on, instead of turning you into my bitch."
"What the hell is wrong with you, Emily? Why are you like this?"
"Oh, please, you remind me of my so-called friend Kateryna. She asked me the same thing, all those years ago, when I told her what I wanted to do to the Brotherhood. Then she threatened to go straight to them and tell them what I was planning."
I thought of the newspaper clipping and the headline, PROSTITUTE FOUND BUTCHERED IN ALLEY.
"So you killed her, too?"
Another smile. "What choice did I have?"
"But she was your friend. I saw the photograph of the two of you."
"A single moment in time," Emily said. "Sentiment will kill you if you let it."
"But I was your friend, too. I cared about you, Emily. And in some weird way, I still do."
"Yet here you are. You and your new boyfriend. Trying to stop me from doing what needs to be done."
"But why? Why are you doing this?"
"Why else?" she said. "Because I can."
She turned to look out past the ledge, then threw her cigarette aside and stepped toward the rifle, taking a quick look through the scope.
"It looks like Ivan is finally up at bat," she said, then turned and stared at me, her eyes flat and soulless. "And I guess you know what that means."
"That I'm no longer necessary, either."
Apparently that was the right answer, because she smiled again, raised the pistol—
—and I dove, hard and fast, hearing the plock of the silencer as I stretched my arms toward Parker's gun lying beneath the Jaguar.
Something thudded against my thigh and a white hot pain exploded, then spread and amplified as I got my hands on the gun and turned.
Still smiling, Emily pointed her pistol at my head and was about to squeeze the trigger as I swung my arms upward, Parker's instructions barreling through my brain—
—point and fire—
—point and fire—
—point and fire—
And I pointed and pulled the trigger and the gun lurched in my hand as Emily's second shot punctured the side of the Jaguar directly above my head.
I fired again and then again, hitting Emily in the chest and stomach, and she flew backward, slamming against the sniper rifle, knocking it over the ledge, where it clattered on the sidewalk below.
I heard a distant scream, followed by several more, as Emily sank to the ground, blinking at me in disbelief. Then the life went out of her eyes, and she was gone.
I tried to pull myself to my feet, but the pain in my thigh was excruciating. I felt my own consciousness draining away and dragged myself over to Parker. His eyes were closed now, and when I felt for a pulse, I felt nothing.
I heard someone crying.
Maybe it was me.
Unable to move, unable to do anything, I rested my head on Parker's chest and closed my eyes, letting the darkness overtake me…
EPILOGUE
Silly Girl
FORTY
I don't remember how we got to the hospital.
I was told later that the gunfire and the sight of the sniper rifle crashing to the sidewalk had sent a herd of security guards into the parking structure, where Parker and I were found and transported to Houston General.
I'd lost a lot of blood, but not enough to be life threatening, and once I was patched up, the interrogations began and I told my story, just as I've told it to you, from beginning to end.
Okay, maybe that's a lie.
I didn't fill them in on all the details. Especially the intimate ones. Those are between you and me.
And Parker, of course.
Who, I'm so happy to say, is still alive.
It was touch and go for awhile there, but the doctors worked their magic and I'm pretty sure his unceasing stubbornness played a big part in his survival.
When he was finally conscious again, they rolled me into his room in a wheelchair, my leg feeling stiff and sore and useless. He lay in bed with his eyes closed, surrounded by machinery and tubes that fed him fluids and medication and oxygen.
I waited, and after a moment his eyes fluttered open and focused on me.
Then he smiled. "Hey…"
My heart rose up to clog my throat again. "That's it? That's all you have to say after you scared me half to death?"
He laughed softly and winced. He tried to speak and I could see it was a struggle for him.
I rolled my chair closer to the bed and squeezed his hand. "That's okay, don't talk. We'll have plenty of time for that." I grinned. "And other things."
"Thanks… to you…" he croaked.
I shook my head. "We wouldn't be here if you hadn't showed me that gun. So I guess I owe you another one."
"Don't… sell yourself short," he said. "I think… I was… wrong about you."
"In what way?"
His voice was little more than a whisper now. "You are a super woman after all…"
Then he squeezed my fingers, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
I sat there for a very long time, holding his hand and watching him breathe, and wondered how it was possible to care so completely for a man I barely knew.
But there it was, a feeling so intense and scary and real that I couldn't deny it.
And as the days go by, that feeling only gets stronger.
I'm sitting in the hospital waiting room as I write this, while the doctors continue to work their magic to help get Parker on his feet again.
Oh—and the million and a half dollar bounty that the feds had on Mia Duncan's head?
That was awarded to me, Kelsey Coe, a turn of events I could never have anticipated.
I'm not sure how I feel about putting three bullets in my former BFF, but using some of the money to make sure Haley Parker gets the medical care she needs—experimental procedures and all—is enough to assuage any guilt.
I may not be the super woman Parker thinks I am, but as promised, I didn't come out of this ordeal the same silly girl I once was.
I'm a silly girl in love now.
A rich silly girl in love.
And if luck is on my side—as it certainly seems to be—it's a love that will last forever.
Now, if you'll excuse me…
I need to go check on Parker.
COMING NEXT
This isn't the last you've heard from Parker & Coe.
Check out an excerpt from their next Love and Bullets Thriller, as Zach and Kelsey go into the skip tracing business together and Kelsey handles her first solo gig—a simple babysitting job transporting a bail-jumping con man from Houston to L.A.
But to Kelsey's surprise, this particular con man has ties to her past—and a very deadly target on his back.
An excerpt from Present Tense follows.
PRESENT TENSE
Parker & Coe
No. 2
Excerpt
ONE
The last place I expected to find myself was on a plane that was about to crash.
I've never had a problem with air travel. I'm not one who panics at every hint of turbulence, or clutches my armrest when we come in for a landing. I'm the kind of girl who quickly stows her carry-on, pops in her noise canceling earbuds, then snuggles up to an inflatable pillow and spends most of the flight caught in the loving embrace of the Land of Nod.
But when I'm standing near the cockpit of a rickety twin-engine transport plane, the pilot slumped over the controls, the nose of the fuselage pointed in the direction of the good green earth while hurtling at a speed known only to God… Well, let's just say that panic comes very natural to me.
But at least I wasn't alone in my terror.
Ethan Rider was handcuffed behind me.
And this was only the beginning of a very bad day.
TWO
It was supposed to be an easy job. A simple babysitting gig that wouldn't require anything more than escorting a harmless, nonviolent prisoner from Houston to Los Angeles.
It was a cold Thursday morning, and I was in the office alone when the offer came in, while Parker was three hours north, chasing down a lead on what he called a Five Figure Fugitive.
When I told him about the job, he didn't sound thrilled. "I don't know, Kels. I'm not comfortable with you doing this alone."
"What could possibly go wrong?" I said, the irony in my tone probably lost to the cell phone connection.
We were both still healing after our encounter a few months earlier with my former BFF, Anastasia Brantov. So it was no real surprise that Parker had immediately shifted into over-protective mode.
"I'm just not sure you're ready."
"You're the one who almost died, remember? And I'm not completely helpless. Don't forget I saved your life."
I didn't bother to mention that he'd also saved mine quite a few times. All within the span of about twenty-four hours.
Which was part of why I'd fallen for him.
I mean, how could I resist?
It didn't hurt that, unlike the men in my past, Parker was someone I could count on, yet was full of surprises. The good kind. The kind that made you smile and sometimes laugh and wonder how you got so damn lucky. Then, of course, there were the rugged but gentle (and quite talented) hands, the broad shoulders, the narrow hips, and a set of bluer than blue eyes that often had me wishing I was carrying an extra set of panties.
Even the sound of his voice could get me going.
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