Chapter Fifteen
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THE EXPLOSION KNOCKED Shelby on her ass.
She went from sitting in a dining room chair to lying on the floor several feet away with a heavy weight on top of her and a high-pitched ringing in her ears.
Beep, beep, beep. The security system alarm was going full-blast, adding to the noise.
She coughed, sucking in dust when she tried to breathe through her mouth. Her weak leg was pinned down.
She blinked rapidly, coughing again, and raised her head. Light from a large hole in the wall illuminated the room. Dust and debris coated everything.
I can see!
And on the heels of that thought came another.
Bomb.
Someone had blown a hole in her house.
“Colton!” she yelled, her voice sounding distant and muted by the ringing in her ears and the droning alarm.
Through the haze hanging in the air, she saw red hair, a black jacket. “Sabrina…Connor…”
Neither moved.
Her vision blurred and a sudden wave of nausea swamped her. Part of the table had flown backward with her, collapsing on top of her and pinning her bad leg. It had also protected her from some of the flying debris.
Pain seared her lower leg when she tried to move it. She looked down to see a piece of glass sticking up from her calf, blood soaking the ripped edges of her pants.
Splintered wood and glass were everywhere. Reaching out, Shelby grabbed for her upended walker, stretching for all she was worth. It was just out of reach and she heaved herself forward.
A shadow fell across her face. She swiveled toward it. “Colton?”
A large, black-clad figure moved through the hole in the wall, stepping carefully through the debris. Shelby blinked again, trying to clear her blurry vision, the pain in her leg screaming when she tried to sit up.
Sabrina moaned and a chair leg fell off her as she shifted slightly in the rubble.
The man was tall, a ski mask covering his face, black racing gloves on his hands. He knelt beside Connor, removed one glove and checked for a pulse.
“Help,” Shelby said. “He needs help.”
The man replaced his glove. He withdrew something from his pocket.
The small, black gun didn’t register with Shelby for a second, then a fresh wave of nausea hit her as she watched him place the gun to Connor’s forehead.
“No!” Sabrina sat up and kicked out at the guy.
The man was quicker. He grabbed Sabrina’s ankle and shoved her aside. He turned the gun on her and…
Bam. Bam.
Shelby’s scream was lost in the concussion of the two shots to Sabrina’s chest.
Picking up a piece of two-by-four that had been ripped from the wall, Shelby aimed for the man’s head. The wood nicked his shoulder, but did nothing more than bring his attention to her.
One step and then another and he was standing directly over her.
She punched at his legs, tried to get her good leg around to kick him. He reached down, his eyes, dark in the shadows, boring into hers. A gloved hand slapped her face. Her head snapped to the side, a fresh wave of pain exploding in her cheek.
She tasted blood. Turning to look at the man again, she spit at him. “Who are you?”
The gun pointed at her. He bent down, grabbed a chunk of her hair and brought the muzzle to her forehead. Using the gun, he pressed her head down to the floor.
She was going to die.
They were all going to.
Do something!
No way in hell was she going to lie there and let him shoot her.
The blare of the security system’s alarm stopped, but the echo continued in her ears. The muzzle of the gun bit into her skin and she tried to control her gasping breath.
“What do you want?” she yelled as she covertly felt around with both hands. A piece of glass, another splintered board, anything to hit him.
She couldn’t see his face behind the mask, but she saw the knitted material move as if he were smiling.
Those eyes. Something so familiar about them outlined by the mask.
Releasing her braid, he patted her face as if this wasn’t something he really wanted to do.
But he was going to. She could see the determination in his hard gaze.
He cocked the gun, studying her reaction.
Really? He got off on watching his victims die?
It’s him.
The one she’d been hunting.
But a sniper liked distance from his prey. This—the man staring her in the eyes right now—was personal.
Revenge.
Rage like she’d never felt before ripped through her. A guttural yell left her throat and her body moved of its own accord, her bad leg kicking the man in the thigh.
At the same moment, she heard a deep, booming voice from across the room. “Get the fuck away from my wife!”
Colton!
Her kick sent the man backward, but he raised his gun.
Shelby reached for his ankle just as he fired at Colton, sending the bullet into the ceiling. The killer lost his balance and staggered sideways in the debris.
Pushing through the pain, fear ripping through her, Shelby scrambled to find another weapon. Her service revolver was in the safe upstairs. Her backup weapon in the kitchen.
Connor. He’d been armed. She needed to get to him, find his gun.
Sabrina’s chest was a mess of blood. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, blank.
Oh, shit, don’t die on me.
Colton would have to handle Ski Mask on his own.
Shelby pressed her hands against the two bullet wounds in Sabrina’s chest, searching for a heartbeat as she tried to stanch the bleeding. Behind her she heard Colton fighting their bomber.
She was shaking too much to feel the heartbeat, but she thought she saw the pulse in Sabrina’s neck jump. Maybe that was just wishful thinking. The security system would have already alerted the authorities, but medical services would be too late.
Shelby removed her shirt, leaving bloody handprints on it as she wadded it up to press it against Sabrina’s chest. Tears welled in her eyes.
Please Lord. Don’t let this woman die.
Don’t let Connor die.
This is all my fault.
Sirens echoed in the distance. The sounds of Colton and Ski Mask fighting fell away. She was cursing under her breath and praying for help when Colton suddenly appeared at her side.
His face was a mess, blood coming from a cut piercing his left eyebrow, more from beneath his ear and across his bottom lip. “Shelby, are you okay?”
The tears rolled down her cheeks. “Help her, Colton. I… I can’t.”
“Shelby? Can you see me?”
She nodded, glancing back. “Where’s that SOB? Tell me you killed him.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. Connor stirred, holding his head as he sat up gingerly.
“He got away,” Colton said, his gaze falling on Sabrina, then darting to Connor.
Connor saw them, saw Sabrina. He cried out, shoving debris out of the way to crawl over to her on hands and knees.
“What happened? Oh God, tell me she’s alive.”
Shelby couldn’t tell him that. She didn’t really know. Her body shook with adrenaline and shock. Colton moved her off Sabrina and Connor took her place, holding the shirt over Sabrina’s wounds and talking to her, begging her not to die.
Colton took Shelby in his arms, examined the glass in her leg. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. “I’m going to find him, Shelby. I’m going to find the bastard that did this. And then I’m going to kill him.”
Through the open side of the house, she saw a rush of police cars and an ambulance pulling up. Colton’s truck was in shambles, Connor’s too.
As cops and EMTs swarmed inside, Shelby heard a whine.
“Salisbury!” She whipped her head one way and then the other, searching for the scruffy dog.
Colton was speaking to someone on his phone. He tried to keep Shelby still while an EMT knelt beside them.
“Get the dog,” she told Colton. “Now.”
He turned her over to the EMT, barking orders at two of the cops and the person on the phone all at the same time as he picked his way through the glass and wood to the hallway. There he scooped up Salisbury and held the dog up for her to see.
Thank God.
The EMTs were working on Sabrina. “I’ve got a pulse,” one said, and Shelby felt Connor’s relief from across the room.
They were all still alive. Shelby bowed her head for a moment and let out a shaky thank you.
I’m going to find the bastard that did this. And then I’m going to kill him. Colton’s words circled her brain, the killer’s eyes taunting her behind her closed lids.
Shelby touched her hair. Not if I kill him first.
NOTHING LIKE A good car bomb to start the day off right.
If only it had done the job.
All three of them in one place—Bells, Shelby, McKenzie—and the only one he’d managed to kill was the one he didn’t care about. The redhead.
After watching Bells inspect his truck and seeing McKenzie arrive with the redhead in tow, it had been an easy decision to sneak back over and plant the C4 in the bed of Bells’ truck.
Not his usual modus operandi—he liked things neat and clean. But the bomb was more effective to take out three people inside a house all at once.
Luckily, he’d been a Boy Scout—he was always prepared. He’d found the C4 in his brother’s garage after his last mission. No idea where it had originated from and he didn’t really care. He’d hidden it away, anticipating he might use it some day.
Today had been the day.
Only it hadn’t taken out his three targets, and fucking Bells had interrupted him before he’d had a chance to pay them each back with a bullet to the brain.
Hate seethed through the man’s body from head to toe. He was going to have to up his game once more.