“Turn the car around,” Brodie snapped to Davis. “Now.”

There were other voices on the line. He heard the cops questioning Grant.

“Fifteen-seventy-eight Ridgeway,” Brodie told his brother as a cold chill pierced his heart.

They’d passed that street fifteen minutes ago. It would take them that long—maybe less—to get back.

So much could happen in a few moments’ time.

In a few moments, a person could live...

Or a person could die.

Chapter Eleven

Jennifer screamed when the blade sliced down her arm.

“That was my first wound in prison. A guy knifed me because he didn’t like the way I looked.” Stephen leaned toward Jennifer. “Guess what I don’t like about you?”

She clamped her lips together. He’d moved so fast with that first attack, lunging forward and driving that knife into her. She’d be prepared next time. Jennifer braced herself.

He smiled and lifted the knife.

“Your SEAL didn’t realize we turned off the main road. He’s probably still driving hell fast, so sure that he’ll find you and save the day.” He tapped the bloody knife beneath his chin. “What do you think he’ll do when he finds your body? Will he break? I mean, the guy already walks on an edge, from what I’ve heard about him. He likes violence, the rush from adrenaline, the thrill of the hunt. Your death might just push him too far.”

Jennifer shook her head. “Brodie isn’t like that.”

“Oh, really? You think you know him because you had sex with the guy?”

She did know him. She stared up at Stephen. “He’s not evil. He’s not like you.”

He lunged toward her. The knife sliced down her shoulder. She didn’t scream this time.

How much time has passed? The bullet wound still bled, her whole body shuddered and, when she glanced down, Jennifer saw that her blood had dripped onto the floor.

“How the mighty have fallen,” he murmured. “No fancy ball gowns for you now. Just a cape of blood.”

“I was...never one for fancy ball gowns anyway.”

He lifted the knife.

“Why did Detective Townsend help you?”

Stephen’s lips curled.

“Nate...you said he helped you for money. Why did Shayne do it? He...he’s the one who told you I was at the safe house, right?” If she could keep him talking, then she might be able to think of some way to escape.

Or at least she’d buy herself a few more precious moments of life. Because she didn’t know if he was still planning for a long, slow end for her. With Brodie hunting him, Stephen could snap at any moment. And kill me.

“I found the detective’s weak spot.” He sounded pleased with himself. “Though, really, I guess I owe that to you.”

Jennifer shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I told you already...I had a few people who were still loyal to me. One was watching you. He’d told me about your little—ah—incident in the Middle East.”

She stiffened. “You did that.” Now she understood just how her cover had been blown on that case.

He inclined his head as if accepting a compliment. “My associate did. He let the right people know that you needed to be eliminated. Though he assured me you’d suffer before your end.” His face hardened. “Then you got away.”

Thanks to Brodie.

“That associate followed you. It seemed so strange for a woman like you to rush all the way back to a little ranch in Austin, Texas. When he told me about your visit, I thought perhaps I’d found your weak point. A family, nestled away all safe and sound.”

“They weren’t my family,” she whispered. Dear God, is that why they died? Stephen had thought they were her parents?

“He kept watching. Saw you make the cash drop to them...saw the cop.” He laughed. “My guy got curious, so he hung around. He wanted to know why that little ranch was getting so much action.”

She stopped struggling in the chair. “You didn’t kill the McGuires?”

“That one isn’t on me. Haven’t you realized yet? I like for my prey to suffer. You cross me, you pay. But the McGuires—”

“They were shot. Killed quickly.”

Not by his hand.

“My associate got pictures of the cop. He saw him taking the money. Saw him use that cash with some rather unsavory characters.”

Seriously? Like he could judge unsavory.

“I found out about the body Shayne Townsend wanted to keep buried. I used that. Told the guy I’d turn all those photos over to the media...to the McGuires...if he didn’t give me what I wanted.”

So Shayne had traded his life for her own.

“That cop had gotten trigger-happy. Shot a kid that he thought had a weapon, but it turned out the kid wasn’t armed. He hid that kill. Fool should have known the dead would come back to haunt him.”

She heaved in the chair. Was the right chair leg loose? It felt that way. “Do the dead haunt you? Because they should.”

The knife’s blade pressed onto her cheek, but he didn’t slice deep, not yet. Stephen’s left hand rose and traced over the wound on his cheek. “I got this scar from a Ukrainian who wanted my food.”

He was going to cut open her face. She shoved back against the chair. It toppled, sending her crashing to the floor.

Stephen snarled and jumped toward her with his knife.

“Stop!” a voice thundered. “Stop or I will shoot you.”

Stephen halted, that knife of his inches away from her. “The cop! You’re the one who dared to come here?”

Her head turned. She could see Shayne, standing a few feet away, his weapon drawn.

Stephen rose, and his laughter echoed in the garage. “You’re the one here to save the day? You’re the killer. You don’t get to play hero!”

“I’m not playing anything. Drop the knife. Now.”

Stephen dropped the knife. It clattered to the floor. “I have those photographs. They’re in a very safe place, but that place won’t stay safe...not if you don’t get out of here!”

Shayne shook his head. “I won’t let you kill her.”

She heaved with her legs. The chair had shattered beneath her, and the ropes around her feet had loosened. Her hands were still handcuffed, but she was fighting fiercely to escape her bonds. “He has a gun, Shayne!”

“And I also have your life in my hands, Detective,” Stephen ground out. “That wonderful life of yours...your accommodations, your reputation, your job...I can destroy it all.”

Shayne took a step toward him. “I can’t let you kill her.”

“Why?” Stephen snarled back. “Because you’re such an upstanding citizen? I know your secrets.”

Shayne raised his gun. “Step away from her. Move back, now!”

Stephen retreated, a small movement. “You’re making a mistake here, Detective. One that you will regret.”

“No.” Shayne gave a hard shake of his head. “I’m finally doing something right. I’ve got enough to regret in my life already. I won’t add more.” He bent near Jennifer. “It’s going to be all right,” he whispered to her. “I’ll get you out of here.”

A gunshot blasted. Shayne jerked against her.

“No,” Stephen said softly as Shayne slumped beside Jennifer. “You won’t.”

* * *

BRODIE COULDN’T GET to Jennifer fast enough. His hands were pounding on the dashboard. “Hurry, Davis—hurry the hell up!”

The car screeched around the corner, and Davis slammed hard on his brakes in front of what looked like an old garage. Brodie rushed out of the car—

And heard a gunshot.

His heart stopped then. Just stopped in his chest even as his legs pistoned and he raced toward the building.

He heard Davis yelling after him. Telling him to be careful, to go in slow, but he couldn’t slow down. Jennifer was in there, and that gunshot blast still thundered through his mind.

Don’t be dead. Don’t be—

He kicked the door open. Brodie knew the sight before him would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.