“Here. Let me help.” Sadie came up beside him, her arms stretching beside his to push the door up. “But we have to do it slowly. We don’t know who’s out there.”
“Yeah, but we do know what’s in here. And we have to take our chances.”
Tripp used the opening to look out into his backyard. Although little had gone as he’d hoped, the one thing in their favor was that the fire was lapping against the frame of the house. The path out of the basement was free and clear of flames.
Bastard knew he couldn’t keep that blaze going in the snow, Tripp thought grimly as his eyes tried to adjust to the dim light in the backyard. Sadie’s warning still echoed through his mind, nearly as loud as the fire, that Tate and his goons would be standing guard wherever they chose to flee.
While that danger might be real, they had to get out. Much of the house had fallen inward, but a few walls were still standing. He and Sadie weren’t safe where they were and, worse, they risked being locked in if one of those walls fell the wrong way.
“We have to move,” Tripp whispered urgently.
“What if he’s out there?”
“Then we take our chances. They’re still better than where we are. Do you have the gun?”
“Yes.”
“Here.” Tripp fumbled for the coats on the step. “Put this on. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but the moment you get beyond the blaze, you’re going to be freezing.”
“From a frozen lake to a fiery inferno.” Sadie’s laughter came out slightly manic. “The man is a lunatic.”
“Yeah, but we’ve got the element of surprise on our side. It’s possible he’s thought we didn’t make it out since the moment the roof fell in.”
It was a small hope, but Tripp decided he’d take it anyway. Even the smallest advantage of surprise was something and since his house was blazing like the fires of hell, there was no way his neighbors hadn’t called it in already.
The danger might be real, but he’d bet his life Tate and his goons wouldn’t stick around once the fire company arrived.
That meant he had only a few more precious minutes to take the bastard down. With a burst of strength against the heavy door, Tripp used the momentum of his body to walk up the last few concrete steps, pushing the door high and wide. He was going to take down Tate Greer.
Finally.
* * *
One minute she was bracing herself against absurdly misplaced laughter and the next Tripp was on the move. The basement door creaked and groaned on its metal hinges as Tripp lifted it wide and high before running up the last few steps and out into the yard. She called after him but it did nothing to slow him down.
Nor did he even acknowledge he’d heard her.
Instead he just kept moving, farther away from the house and into what could only be Tate’s crosshairs.
“Damn fool man,” she muttered before adding one of her favorite curses for good measure. And then she focused on her own situation, the increasing collapse of the house a steady reminder she needed to move, too.
Sadie checked the gun, the piece familiar to her, as it matched the one she’d carried as a rookie, and followed Tripp into the cold. The house kept making those horrible wrenching noises, its remnants’ continuing fight to stay upright rapidly waning in the bitter night air.
Deep snow sucked at her feet, cold against the sneakers she’d had on all day. The temperature was a shock against the oven-like warmth she’d experienced in the basement, but she didn’t have time to analyze the changes. All she could do was move.
The urge to get away from the house was strong, but her gaze swung like an arc over the property. Outside lights were on at the neighbors’ on both sides but she saw no lights reflecting from windows or people coming out onto the street. She vaguely remembered a few comments Tripp mentioned about the people who lived on either side of him. An elderly couple, who were in Florida this time of year, flanked one side, and a young couple without children, who were rarely home in the evenings, the other.
That meant no one would be observing through windows, watching the flames engulf the house. Nor would they have any sense of intruders sneaking around the grounds.
While she wouldn’t expect someone to risk themselves for her—and as a law enforcement professional she sorely wanted them to remain inside—an extra pair of eyes or a shout from a window that they’d called 911 would be more than welcome at this time. Since she’d get neither, she moved on, trying to get a sense of where Tripp had gone.
The footprints she’d seen in the snow faded at the edge of the house, the heat of the fire melting the ground cover. So instead, she moved back and away, sweeping in steady arcs just as she’d learned at the academy.
Tripp’s backyard was long and deep, the snow-covered grass ending as it ran into a stretch of woods. As she stilled, considering those woods on her next sweep, she realized how easy it had been for Tate to hide there and lie in wait.
A shiver went through her that had nothing to do with the cold.
And everything to do with the knife she felt pressed against the thin and tender skin behind her ear.
* * *
Tripp saw it all play out before him. He’d made a full perimeter around the house and it was only as he made the final turn into the backyard—giving the collapsing house a wide berth—that he saw his mistake.
The large, hulking form of Tate Greer had come up behind Sadie, one arm wrapping around her neck while the other held a wicked hunting knife up to the sensitive area just beneath her ear. The shout had already risen in his throat when Tripp pulled it back by sheer force of will.
Greer had played them.
There was no one else waiting with him. He’d done this all on his own. Tripp knew there were any number of clinical terms for it. Escalation. Psychopathy. Violent tendencies. But to his mind, the situation was far simpler.
Tate Greer was determined to finish what he’d started.
The first whirl of fire engine sirens echoed in the distance and Tripp knew there was no room to wait.
Greer was no doubt counting down, as well, and it would be the closing bell to whatever horror the man had in mind.
Sadie had stilled the moment the knife touched her body and Tripp knew they were at a collective disadvantage. She couldn’t see him and he had no way of knowing how her own rush of adrenaline was affecting her.
Could she react with the speed he needed?
Would she fall or fumble?
And could Tripp line up a shot in a way that had Tate’s reflexes moving the knife away from Sadie’s body instead of into it?
He considered himself a good marksman, but he was no sniper. So aiming for Greer’s head was out of the question. The risk was too damn great.
And as the sound of sirens bore down, there was no more time to think about it.
Resetting the safety and placing the gun in the back waistband of his jeans, Tripp moved forward. The snow-covered ground had a layer of ice and the only thing keeping him from sounding an alert was the continued shriek and whine of fire behind him. That, coupled with the wail of sirens, did enough to hide the steady crunch of his boots on icy snow.
Despite the surrounding noise, Tate’s voice rose over the din. “You were supposed to be so easy. You were my ticket into every damn database I needed. To the police. To Colton Investigations. I had it all planned and you ruined it.”
“Go to hell.”
Tripp smiled in spite of himself, Sadie’s swift retort affirming that the empty laughter that had concerned him while they were still in the basement had given way to pragmatic disdain.
It was the first glimmer of hope they’d get out of this.
She just had to stay strong.
And he needed to make sure Greer had no idea he was closing in.
With careful steps to ensure the snow didn’t make any addi
tional noise, Tripp moved closer. An idea formed and he dug the gun from his waistband, turning the butt side out. As soon as he was in range, Tripp raised his left arm and slammed the butt of the weapon on Tate’s head while using his dominant hand to hold his knife arm still.
“Sadie! Drop and move!”
Sadie did as she was told, falling to her knees in the snow.
The force of Tripp’s revolver hit its mark, but only served to anger Greer further. The man whirled, using some fancy footwork of his own as he spun around to face Tripp, the knife blade glinting sharply in the light of the flames. Even with the solid blow to the head, the man never lost his balance. An excessively neat maneuver that left Greer on his feet and still in full, controlled possession of the knife.
Tripp had learned early on in his rookie year never to underestimate an opponent. Some of the smallest men he’d taken down had near superhuman strength and a larger criminal often lost ground to the inevitable inertia that kicked in once a body started moving in the wrong direction.
Tate Greer fit neither description. He was a big man, with the large proportions of a heavyweight fighter. And he had the quickness and speed of a lightweight.
A lethal combination.
Tripp reared back as Greer’s knife arm shot out, slicing through the air nanoseconds before Tripp got out of the way. While the force of the movement would have put any normal person off balance, Greer retained his, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “She’s not getting out of here alive, man. And neither are you.”
He slammed forward again, an angry grizzly with sharp claws, his arm waving that blade through the crisp night air.
The very tip of the blade sliced through the thick sleeve of Tripp’s coat. Fire shot up his arm at what would no doubt be a deep cut, but he ignored it, instead channeling the pain toward his foe.
Tate Greer was the enemy.
He and his thugs had terrorized the good people of Grand Rapids for years. Long before RevitaYou had even been a glimmer of an idea, Greer had been harming people by lending money illegally and then siccing his thugs on them.
And then he’d turned his sights on Sadie.
Using her. Manipulating her. And then kidnapping and trying to kill her.
Whatever vows Tripp had made to serve and protect seemed inadequate for the moment.
Greer was his prey.
And any and all pretense of capturing the man, through proper channels as a leader in the GRPD, had vanished. Tripp wanted vengeance and had no illusion it would be sanctioned by his employer.
Greer slashed out with the knife once more and Tripp leaped away from the blade before going on the offensive. He still had his gun and wanted to use it, but the brutal, near hand-to-hand-combat style of his opponent meant the weapon could either work for him or just as easily be turned against him.
As the wail of the sirens grew louder, Tripp knew he only had another minute at most. He feinted to the side before pivoting and bringing the butt of the gun down once more on Greer’s body. He’d aimed for the head but the gun grazed just off of the guy’s shoulder. Despite missing his target, the blow did finally dislodge Greer’s footing. Only, instead of stumbling back from the force of Tripp’s strike, the man windmilled his arms, the knife once more flashing in the light of the flames.
Greer used the change in momentum to his advantage, thrusting forward. His knife struck the heavy padding of Tripp’s coat before plunging through the thick wool and into his waist. The jab was quick, the pain a piercing nuisance, before Greer pulled back, still trying to regain his balance in the still-fresh snow.
Tripp saw the knife rise, streaked with blood this time and ready to strike again, when blue and red lights flashed from the street, the sirens keening into the night.
Sadie shouted, racing closer to them, her gun extended and pointed directly at Greer. The man seemed to hover for an endless moment in indecision until she shot off a round, the bullet going just wide of him. It was enough to push Greer into motion. He turned tail and ran for the woods.
Orange flames still sparked into the sky behind them but Tripp ignored them and gave chase, Sadie’s heavy footsteps audible behind him while the thick snow dragged on his feet. He saw Greer stumble with it, too, but the man had a large enough head start that Tripp wasn’t able to reach him. Registering once more that he had a gun in his hand, he stopped and took aim.
Pain ran a searing path from his arm to his elbow where Greer’s blade had sliced him, but Tripp held his position, lining up his shot. Without giving himself another moment to think—or to reconsider aiming at another’s back—he fired off his shots.
Six in a row, all directed at the weaving figure heading for the woods.
On the fifth shot, he saw Greer jerk and stumble, but still, the man never lost his balance. Or his momentum. He just kept moving into the woods.
“Tripp!” Sadie moved up behind him, hanging on his arm and holding him still.
“I have to go after him.” Tripp tried to run but she seemed surprisingly strong, her hold able to root him to the spot.
“Tripp! You’re hurt.”
Her words registered dimly in his mind as he looked down to where she held tight to his forearm. He stared at her hand and the vise grip she had on his body, curious as to why her hand felt so heavy where it lay. And then his gaze drifted to the drops of red coloring the snow at his feet.
As the blood registered as his own, the adrenaline that had carried him through his backyard gave out. Along with the dizzying drop in blood pressure, a searing pain lit up his side. He saw the ground rise up, swift and immediate, before he felt Sadie’s arms wrap tight around his chest, slowing his momentum.
And then the world went black.
CHAPTER 13
Sadie glanced around the emergency waiting room, her siblings assembled in the various chairs nearest her. They were all there. Riley and Griffin held court at the doorway, refusing entry to anyone who didn’t pass muster. Pippa and Kiely took point on conferring with the hospital staff and getting updates on Tripp’s condition while also peppering the GRPD with questions every time an officer came in to pay respects.
Vikki sat by her side, her hands clutching Sadie’s as she crooned over and over that they’d find Tate and put him away forever.
“That bastard is going to pay.”
Vikki had said the same thing, in a variety of ways, with a variety of colorful descriptions, for the past hour. Sadie was grateful for the comfort but all she wanted was to see Tripp.
“Hey, Vik. Why don’t you let me take over for a minute?”
Vikki stared up at Riley hovering in front of them. Sadie felt her twin’s hesitation in the clutch of her hands before Vikki nodded. “I guess I could use some disgusting coffee out of a machine that’s nearly as old as I am.”
“That’s my girl.” Riley dug some change out of his pocket. “Would you mind getting me one, too?”
“Sure.”
Sadie saw the subtle communication pass between Riley and Vikki. Under normal circumstances, she’d be annoyed they were communicating about her when she was right there. But, all things considered, she could hardly say she wouldn’t be doing the same right now if the roles were reversed.
Riley took Vikki’s seat, his arm going around Sadie’s shoulders. She took the moment to snuggle into her brother, amazed to realize how good it felt to let down her guard.
To ease the burden that had hung over her for more than a month now.
She’d believed herself moving past the pain of Tate’s betrayal, especially after the time she’d spent with her sisters, but now she had a new agony to deal with. One that went far deeper, even if she’d only spent a few days with Tripp.
What if he’d died?
Tate’s stealth attack had caught them both off guard and they’d both inhaled a lot of ash and smoke. Now Tripp was dealing with a dee
p knife wound on top of it.
The fire had left her throat raw and scratchy but it had nothing on the tight ball of pain that lodged there as tears welled up at the thought of losing Tripp.
On her hard sob, Riley pulled her close. “Hey now.”
“I can’t—” She broke off, another sob shaking her body.
“Shhh.” Riley let her cry it out, all the fear and tension, layered over the helpless uncertainty of whether or not Tripp would be okay.
“This is getting to be a habit with us,” Riley said once her storm of tears had passed.
“A habit that’s, once again, my fault.”
“We’re back to that?”
“Yes, we’re back to that. Because the man I nearly married tried to kill me and the good lieutenant tonight. Because he damn near succeeded and even right now Tripp is in an OR and his house is in ashes.”
“He’s getting a blood transfusion, a serious shot of meds, and a round of stitches. No one’s operating on him.”
“It’s all my fault.”
“No, actually it’s not.”
Another set of tears welled, quieter and hotter than the first. While she wanted to regain some control, Sadie knew the key was letting it all out.
Something she hadn’t done in the sheer rush of events. Instead, she’d watched as the paramedics transferred Tripp from the freezing cold ground onto a stretcher. She’d protested when they’d wanted to strap her onto one, too, but had finally relented when one of them forced oxygen on her. The pure air had felt too good in her battered lungs and suddenly she’d been too tired to argue.
Even if she hadn’t been too tired to watch the still-leaping flames from the back window of the ambulance as they’d rushed her—for the second time in a week—to county hospital.
She’d been checked out and, despite being offered a chance to be monitored overnight, she’d refused. She had no interest in being hooked up to monitors and an IV, and confined to a bed again. Tate was still out there and he’d already proved a hospital entrance wasn’t enough to deter him.
Harlequin Romantic Suspense December 2020 Box Set Page 16
