GABE HELD EVE AS TIGHTLY AS HE COULD. HE had the feeling that if he didn’t keep her close, she’d slip away, right out of his hands, and that wasn’t going to happen for him. He’d been looking for her—he hadn’t even realized it—for too long. He had the woman he wanted, the woman who fit him, and he wasn’t going to let her get away.
He took her back into the condo. Kissing her, stroking her, fighting to strip those clothes off her. Death had come too close that day. Secrets. Sins. They were tangling around them both, but that didn’t matter.
Only Eve mattered.
He pushed her back onto the bed. Tossed away the last of her clothes. Spread her out beneath him.
He wanted to give her so much pleasure that she couldn’t stand it. Wanted to banish every fear that she’d ever had.
He wanted to give her everything.
His mouth went to her breast. Her nipple was pink and tight and perfect. And when he took that peak into his mouth, her nails dug into his back. Her hips eagerly slammed up against his.
She moaned his name, and he loved the sound of her need.
He kissed his way to her other breast. Lust was a fury within him, demanding that he take and take and—
Use care.
That fast warning came from deep within him. His hand flew out and fisted around the sheets. He wanted to drive into her as hard as he could. To know that she was safe and alive and with him.
Care.
She deserves care.
His hand slid down her stomach. Her shorts and underwear were gone. He touched her silken, bare sex.
I want to take everything she has. I want her to take all of me.
Fuck!
His hands jerked away from her and he fisted the covers.
“G-Gabe? What is it?”
His head lifted. Gabe searched her gaze, but he didn’t see fear. Just passion. “I want you . . . to be okay . . .” Okay with his possession. With his passion. Her fear was the last thing he wanted.
“I’m always okay,” was her soft response, “when I’m with you.”
Because he would do anything for her. Did she realize it? Just how far he’d fallen? He’d been falling, ever since he’d looked up and seen a woman who told him that she was lost.
“I don’t want you . . .” Speaking was hard. When his cock was that big and all he wanted to do was drive balls deep into her. “. . . afraid.”
Her hand slid between their bodies. She shoved his clothes out of her way and then her fingers were curling around his cock. Warm and tight. Good. So good. But not as good as it would be when Gabe was in her. Nothing was that good.
Her past . . . her past . . . don’t hurt her. Don’t—
“You and me,” Eve said, and she pressed a kiss to his lips. “That’s all that matters right here, right now. You.” She stroked him. “Me.”
He wouldn’t let his control go. Couldn’t. “I never . . . want to hurt you.” He should pull away. After what she’d learned—
Then the fear came. Flickering in her eyes. Her hand rose. Pushed against his shoulder. “St-Stop.”
I’m a fucking bastard.
“It’s because of what he said . . . what I did with the—the others . . . you don’t want—” Her breath heaved out. “I don’t even remember those men!”
She tried to twist out of the bed. Carefully, he held her there. Carefully, he kissed her there. “Other lovers don’t matter to me.” Well, they’d better never come at her again with desire in their eyes or they’d deal with him. With an effort, he kept his voice soft. “I wasn’t a virgin, and I didn’t expect you to be.”
She was still beneath him.
He mentally told his cock to calm the hell down, for the moment. This was important. She was important.
“That’s your past,” he told her. “Good, bad, everything in between. Past.” He had to kiss her again. A little harder. A little deeper. “I’m your present.” He wanted to be her future. “Be with me.”
“I am!” The pain in her voice cut through him. “You’re the one trying to pull away.”
He rolled them, twisting them on the bed so that she was on top of him. He needed to give her as much power as he could. He wanted—
“Control,” Eve whispered.
Yes.
“I don’t want it.”
What?
“Not with you. It’s not a power play . . . a—a game . . .” She shook her head. Her hair slid over her cheeks. “I just want you, exactly the way you are.”
But he could be a dominating bastard, and he wanted to be different with her.
Her lips brushed over his. “I just want you. There’s nothing else. No one else. Just you. Just me.”
His hands were curved around her hips. Her legs were open, her sex bare and sliding over him. He pushed his fingers between their bodies. Stroked her sex. She was warm, her heat glistening on his fingers. But she wasn’t ready enough. Not even close.
If she wanted him, just the way he was, then she’d have him.
Good, bad, everything in between . . .
He rose up. Pushed her back. Spread her legs even farther apart. Her breath hitched, then came faster.
He put his mouth on her. On that perfect, pink flesh. He put his mouth on her and he feasted.
There was no past. There was only them.
She came against his mouth. Eve shoved up against him and gave a wild cry. He kept licking her, kept stroking her with his tongue and mouth, and she was wet now. Creamy. He loved her that way.
Eager for him.
But he didn’t climb on top of her. He settled back on the mattress, leaning against the pillows. He lifted her over him once more.
I can be a dominating bastard . . .
But I’m hers.
His tight grip on her hips guided her to him. When she slid over his cock, a ragged groan tore from him because she was a hot paradise. Squeezing and hugging his cock like the best dream he’d ever had.
He pushed her forward, wanting her clit to slide against his cock as he arched against her. His hips left the bed and he shoved into her as deep as he could go.
This time she was the one to grab for the covers. To hold them tight in a fisted grip. Eve’s head tipped back and she began to ride him. Not some smooth, controlled passion. Hot and hard and driving.
Deep and consuming.
Sweat slickened his body, and he didn’t care. He was surging toward fulfillment, taking every drop of passion that she had to give. In and out, his cock slid home, and it was perfect.
She was perfect.
Eve started coming again, trembling around him, her body shuddering, and she was touching herself as she came, pushing her hand over her clit and calling out his name.
He’d never seen anything more beautiful. In that moment he realized how very far he’d fallen, for Eve.
He surged into her once more and the pleasure overwhelmed him. He held her as tightly as he could, in a grip that he feared would bruise, but he couldn’t let go. I never want to let go. Eve had come to mean far too much to him, in just a few short days.
He emptied into her, his whole body shuddering because the pleasure was enough to make a man crazy.
Especially a man who was already on the edge.
TREY WALLACE SLAMMED his car door shut and glared up at the condominium complex. The sky was too damn dark behind that building, and he could already feel a roughness in the wind blowing against him.
His phone rang, and swearing, he jerked it up to his ear. “Look, I don’t—”
“We have more victims,” Agent Granger told him.
What? He’d just left the guy!
“My partner followed the map that was recovered at the lighthouse. Douglas is only at the first location, near the Nature Preserve, but he’s found . . . remains.”
Shit.
“We need you back at the station,” Granger said. “We have to work at recovering as many of these bodies as we can. The National Weather Service has just said that the tropical storm is definitely turning. It’s not heading east toward Pensacola. It’s coming here. We’ll be the ones getting the direct hit.”
I don’t have time for this.
“If we don’t recover those bodies before the storm hits—”
“Have you ever been through a tropical storm, Agent Granger?” Trey shouldered his way inside the condo’s lobby. When the guard tensed, Trey flashed his ID. Seriously, Rick knew him. The guard should be waving him right through, not looking all dumbass suspicious.
“Uh, no. I haven’t,” Granger replied.
“Right. Didn’t think so. I’ve been through dozens, and you know what happens? Evacuation orders come through. They are probably already on the way. Parts of the island will flood. The power company will cut our connection long before the storm reaches land, so we’ll all be in the dark. There won’t be time to find those bodies—there’s only going to be time to board up and get the hell out.” Because even a weak tropical storm could wreck the place.
He marched toward the elevator. Jabbed the button.
“Those bodies could be lost!” Granger said.
“If they weren’t lost in the last storm, then maybe they’ll just keep staying right where they are.” He knew he sounded like a cold bastard, but his priority was the living, not the dead. With a storm coming, all of his already meager resources would be strained to the limit. “Now I’ll be back at the station as fast as I can. You want advice?” Probably not since the jerk had taken over the investigation. My investigation. “Secure the evidence that you have and get off my island while you can.”
He shoved the phone back into his pocket just as the elevator doors opened. Trey came face-to-face with Pierce Montgomery. Hell.
Once upon a time, he and Pierce had been friends.
Once.
Those days were long gone.
As soon as he saw him, Pierce stiffened. The guy didn’t march out of the elevator, instead he seemed to take root in there. “What are you doing here?” Pierce asked him.
“Going to see Jessica.” He jumped into the elevator. Pierce didn’t get off. So Trey held the doors for him. I don’t have time for this.
“I told you to stay away from my sister! She has nothing to say to you!”
He really wanted to take a swing at him, but a cop wasn’t supposed to do that. A cop wasn’t supposed to do a lot of things. But I do them anyway. “I’m not here to question her. I’m here to help her.”
He gave up on ditching Pierce and let the doors close.
But Pierce lunged forward and stopped the elevator, freezing them between floors. “Bullshit,” Pierce growled at him. “I know what you’ve been doing to her. For years.”
Trey shook his head.
“You used Jessica. Took advantage of her.”
The hell he did.
“I know you cheated on her. The stories about you and that blonde reached me . . . all the way up in Birmingham.”
Trey’s jaw locked. “We’d broken up then.” And he’d been drunk. The woman had meant nothing. None of the other women had ever meant anything, just Jessica.
“You don’t get a second chance with her.”
“Look, Montgomery, I get that you think I’m not good enough for your sister, that I never was. But my job is to protect the people on this island, and that includes her.” With a jab of his fingers, he had the elevator rising again. “She’s in danger, and I’m not going to stand back and let her get hurt.”
“How did you ever help her before?’
The question pissed him off. “Maybe you didn’t know your sister as well as you thought.” Jessica hadn’t been a perfect angel. Hell, no one was. They all had plenty of sins on their souls.
“I knew everything about her.”
The elevator opened. Good. He marched out, not waiting to see if Pierce followed him. He headed for Jessica’s condo and pounded on the door. “Jessica! Jessica, open up!”
And he had a flash of himself at Clay Thompson’s home, pounding.
The images of Jessica on that wall . . . naked . . . smiling.
His fist pounded into the door once more. “Open the fuck—”
The door swung open. Only Jessica wasn’t standing there. Gabe Spencer was. He was just wearing a pair of faded jeans, and the hard lines on his face clearly said the man was pissed.
He was about to become even more furious.
Trey started to shoulder past him.
Gabe grabbed him, surprising Trey with his strength as he was shoved back.
“I need to see Jessica.”
“Why?” Gabe Spencer was a freaking immoveable object in front of him.
And Pierce was behind Trey. Crowding in close. “I told him to stay away from my sister!” Pierce was nearly snarling.
Too bad. “I’m here because someone’s been watching her.” He held Gabe’s stare. “Someone has been watching you both.”
A line of confusion appeared between Gabe’s brows.
“Let me show you,” Trey said. “Give me two minutes. Just two.” That would be all he needed.
Gabe backed up. Trey stormed inside, and then he saw Jessica. She was standing in front of the bedroom. Her hair tousled. Her cheeks flushed. She was wearing a pair of sweats and a loose T-shirt.
Jessica always wore—
He cut off the thought. “You’re not safe here.”
She’d been having sex with Spencer. He knew it. He could see it in her gleaming cheeks. Smell the faint scent in the air. His hands fisted.
She tensed, but he walked right by her. Headed into the bedroom. The bed was wrecked.
He jerked his gaze away from it. Whirled around the room. Checked the angle. Figured out—
There.
The smoke detector. He grabbed a chair and yanked it toward the detector, the one placed in the far left corner of the room.
“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding worried.
She should be worried, Trey thought. That guy had been watching her nearly twenty-four seven. For how long?
He yanked down the smoke detector, and when he did, the fake cover fell off, revealing the small camera that was there.
“What the hell?” That was Pierce’s shocked voice.
Trey stared down at the camera because he didn’t want to look at Jessica or at Gabe. “We searched Clay Thompson’s house a bit ago. The guy has a freaking shrine to you in there. Dozens of pictures. Old and . . . new.” Now he did look at Gabe, who had moved close to Jessica. Protectively close. He had his arm around her side.
I fucking hate him.
“One of those pictures . . . you were in bed, Jessica. And you—you were naked.”
Spencer swore.
“I saw the scar on your neck, and I knew the photo was recent. Had to be . . . it was a picture of you and Spencer. The guy was watching you, even when you had a guard right next to you.” A guard who’d been screwing her.
Rage pumped through him, but he held it back. I lost her long before Gabe Spencer appeared. He knew that truth, even if she didn’t.
“The guy’s in the wind,” Trey said, because they all needed to know that. “His place is empty. He must have sent his nephew after you both. It figures Johnny would do anything that the uncle he idolized said to do.”
Pierce was trying to grab for the camera. Trey held it out of his reach.
“He’s still out there, and he’s obsessed with you.” You didn’t have to be a shrink with fancy diplomas to know that. “So you,” he said, talking to Gabe now, “need to get her the hell out of here.” Because he was starting to think there might not be any safe place for Jessica.
HE’D BEEN WATCHING her.
Eve stared at all of the pictures in Clay Thompson’s house. Pictures of her. A woman she barely recognized. A woman who looked so happy in some of them and so sad in others.
“I don’t know him.” She turned toward Sarah. The other woman had also been studying the pictures in silence. “If we met before, I don’t remember him.”
“Your brother says that you and Clay were lovers, years ago.”
How was she supposed to respond to that? Eve threw her hands up in the air. “And a spurned lover does what—starts killing women who look like me because he can’t let go? Attacks me?”
“It would appear that way, yes.” But Sarah’s voice was carefully controlled. “This is almost textbook what you’d expect to find at a scene of this nature. Pictures, mementos of you.”
But it wasn’t just pictures. There were videos, too. They had been discovered by FBI Agent Granger and were stored on Clay’s computer.
How long was that camera in my bedroom? She was afraid to ask just how many videos had been recovered. Eve didn’t think that she wanted to know.
Violated. Yes, that was exactly how she felt.
“Textbook,” Sarah murmured again.
Eve shivered. FBI Agent Granger had wanted her at the scene, to see if anything jogged her memory there. Nothing was jogging her memory, but the place was creeping her out. All of those pictures . . .
She turned away. Hurried outside. Thunder was rumbling in the distance. It always seemed to be thundering now. An alert had been issued on the island. Tropical Storm Henry was heading for them, with an expected arrival just before daybreak. Everyone was being asked to leave the island, for their safety.
When she rushed down the narrow steps that led back to the ground, she saw Pierce waiting for her. His expression was tormented. He hadn’t wanted her in Clay Thompson’s house. He wanted to protect her.
And the man she seemed to need protecting from?
Where is Clay Thompson? He appeared to have vanished.
“FIVE MINUTES,” AGENT Avery Granger told Gabe with a hard nod. “That’s all you get with him. And I’m breaking the rules just by giving you that.”
Yes, the guy was, and Gabe was real grateful for that rule breaking because he had to get in there with Johnny Thompson. He had to find out just what the hell that kid knew.
Where is your uncle, Johnny? Where is he?
Gabe reached for the door. He was choking back his fury, using all of the self-control that he possessed. To know that he and Eve had been watched, during their most intimate time . . . I am going to destroy that bastard.
“Is that such a good idea?” Wade asked softly.
His head turned. Agent Granger had walked away a few steps, and Wade had closed in.
Wade crept closer. “Why don’t you let me go in and ask him the questions?”
He knew Wade had been out with the other FBI agent, Douglas Stonebridge, and that they’d recovered the remains of another woman near the Nature Preserve.
How many more will we find?
“You’re too close on this one,” Wade murmured, his expression intent. “I don’t want you going over the edge—”
Like you did before.
Gabe lifted his chin. “I’m not going to walk into this room and discover my sister’s brutalized body, so I think I’ll be fine with my control.”
“Gabe—”
“I need to find out what he knows. The agents can’t get jack from him, but I can.” He knew it with certainty. Why?
Because Johnny feared him.
Fear could be a very powerful motivator.
“I won’t cross the line,” he promised his best friend. But I will get close. This was too important—he had to learn the truth for Eve’s sake. Everything he did now . . . it was all for Eve. Because she mattered more than anything else to him.
Wade stepped back, and Gabe went in to face his prey.
Agent Granger had left Johnny in a small interrogation room. The guy was cuffed to the table, though Gabe didn’t really think those cuffs were necessary. The kid looked a bit pale, and, when Johnny’s gaze centered on him, Gabe could see the man’s fear.
“Johnny . . .” He sighed out the guy’s name as he settled across from him. “You’re in a mess here.”
“I told them—I ain’t talking without my lawyer!”
“Yes, well, since a tropical storm has forced an evacuation of the island, that’s not happening.” Johnny would be evacuated soon, too. Transferred to the jail over in Mobile for holding.
So we don’t have a lot of time here.
“Where’s your uncle?”
Johnny’s lips thinned. “Guessing you didn’t find him at home.”
“No, but we found the pictures.”
The guy’s angry gaze slid away.
“We know your uncle was quite . . . obsessed with Jessica Montgomery.”
“Was he?” Now Johnny was looking at him again.
Gabe leaned forward. “I’m not a cop.”
“I know—”
“I’m not an FBI agent. I’m not some D.A. who has to play by the rules.” He smiled at Johnny. “I’m her lover—the lover of the woman that your uncle tried to kill.” He knew his eyes would show his rage.
Johnny’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“So how do you think I’m feeling about you, right now, Johnny? You set that explosion on the island. She could have been killed out there.” He hated thinking of those moments. He never wanted Eve to be threatened or to be afraid. Never again.
Johnny was starting to sweat.
“I know how to kill,” Gabe said. “I know how to make a man scream for mercy.”
Johnny’s chin jutted up. “I won’t be screaming for you.”
“I’m just trying to figure out how you fit into all this. Why would you protect the guy? Is it because he took you in? When your mother died?”
Johnny’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know nothin’ about me.”
“And you know too little about me.” He leapt up then and grabbed Johnny. He hauled the guy across the table toward him. “I won’t have her hurt. I’m not going to let her be the victim—”
Johnny laughed. “That woman isn’t a victim. You’ve got her all wrong.”
The hell he did. He knew Eve, inside and out.
“She was sleeping with him, pushing him to kill,” and, just like that, Johnny was talking plenty. With no force, just with glee. “She was the one who wanted him to do it. She was the one always in his head, telling him to do it. She screwed him, over and over—”
Gabe drove his fist into Johnny’s face. Johnny jerked back, then the cuffs jerked him down. And Gabe slammed the guy’s face into the table. Blood spilled across its worn surface at the same instant the door behind Gabe flew open.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Trey demanded.
Gabe thought the answer to that was rather obvious.
“He doesn’t like hearing the truth,” Johnny yelled. “He doesn’t like hearing that bitch is the one who pushed Clay! Who made him hurt those other girls!”
Trey pulled Gabe away from Johnny. For the moment, Gabe let the cop pull him.
“She’s messed up,” Johnny said, as the blood dripped from his busted lip. “Fucked in the head.”
Gabe tensed, but Trey still had a too tight hold on him. The little prick will pay for talking about Eve that way.
“He knows,” Johnny said, nodding toward the cop. “He has to know, as close as they were, and he’s just protecting her. Trying to make sure his piece of ass doesn’t get thrown in jail.”
Gabe yanked back on his rage and studied the man with new eyes. Despite the blood and the fear, Johnny was meeting his stare directly.
Why isn’t he afraid? A young guy like him, tossed into jail, he shot a cop . . .
Johnny should have been terrified and trying to work a deal.
“Clay didn’t deserve what happened.” Johnny’s chin jutted up again as he said that. “He never did anything—he didn’t deserve this.”
And those words held the ring of truth.
“Are you going to attack again?” Trey asked Gabe in a low whisper.
“Not yet.” But he would be making another move, sooner or later.
Trey let him go.
And Gabe studied Johnny with new eyes. “Where’s Clay?”
Johnny stiffened. “In the wind. Long gone and—”
“You don’t know, do you?”
Johnny’s eyelids flickered, just a bit.
“You love your uncle.” That was obvious. The guy was going to jail for him.
“He always protected me. Wouldn’t let anyone talk about my mom.” Johnny licked his lips. “She tried her best, dammit. She didn’t take the easy way out.”
He was so pale.
And Gabe knew he was missing . . . something.
But what?
SARAH JACOBS WALKED slowly through the interior of Clay Thompson’s home. FBI Agent Douglas Stonebridge was there, talking to a tech, muttering about how they had to move fast with their evidence collection.
Because a storm was coming. A powerful storm.
Sarah stood in Clay’s bedroom, right in the doorway, watching the scene before her. It just didn’t . . . feel the way it should.
All of the photos of Jessica Montgomery were there, hanging on that wall, photos that had obviously been collected over time, but . . .
He just had them out in the open? Not even hidden? What if someone had walked into his bedroom? There wasn’t even a lock on the bedroom door.
And the files on his computer hadn’t been password protected. They’d just been right there, for anyone to access. It was the same computer that the guy used for his work, and she knew dozens of people were in and out of that marina every day.
“Your profile was dead on,” Douglas said as he came to stand near her. “A Caucasian, early thirties, one who could fit in wealthy circles. Hell, he was always chartering out fancy boats for rich parties. The guy had plenty of knowledge of the area and of boats.”
Yes, Clay fit, but . . . the scene didn’t.
“It feels staged.” That was the problem. There was no emotion there. Just pictures. Spread out for her. She’d read the background info that the PD had on Clay Thompson. The guy didn’t have any past history of trouble with the law. He’d been on the island, running his marina, ever since his father had retired and he’d taken over the business.
That marina gave him access. He could pick up the women, use any boat that he wanted and take them out.
Or . . . or maybe he’d seen the killer take the victims out.
“It’s too perfect,” Sarah said.
“What?” Douglas stared at her in disbelief. “How is it perfect? The man is on the run, he sent his nephew out to do his dirty work—”
“And that is what’s wrong.” Because Clay had taken care of Johnny ever since the guy’s mother had committed suicide. “He wouldn’t use Johnny that way.” She might not be sure of the scene, but she was sure of that part.
“This guy is our killer.” Douglas didn’t seem to have any doubts. “We’ve got a nationwide manhunt in effect for him now. He will be brought down.”
A manhunt . . . right. She’d heard the news report. Clay Thompson was considered armed and dangerous, and that meant when the cops approached him, they’d go after him with their weapons out.
The scene doesn’t fit.
She needed to talk with Johnny.
Sarah hurried out of the house. It was up high, built on stilts because it was so near the bay side of the island. She looked out, saw the glistening water.
Then she looked down. Pierce Montgomery was down there, with Jessica. He had his hand on her shoulder. His posture was protective, concerned.
He’d sure changed a lot since she first saw him at LOST.
Dean Bannon was close by, too, watching the scene, and keeping his gaze on Jessica. Sarah knew that Gabe had ordered Dean to stay close. The guy was very good at following orders.
I’m not so good at that.
She pulled out her phone. Called Gabe. The phone rang, once, twice . . .
“This isn’t a good time.” Gabe’s voice was curt.
“Are you with Johnny?”
“I’ll call back—”
“Ask him what he’d do for his uncle.” She needed to be there. To see Johnny.
It was a good thing the island was so small. She could be in the police station in five minutes.
“Keep asking him about his uncle,” Sarah said as she ran down the stairs and rushed past Jessica and Pierce. “Ask Johnny where his uncle is. Ask Johnny if—if someone was threatening Clay . . .”
She jumped into the car near Jessica. Sarah saw the other woman frowning at her, but she didn’t have time for explanations. Dean would keep Jessica safe.
Sarah spun out of the narrow lot, speeding as fast as she dared for the police station. The wind had already picked up, and she could hear the howl around her car. The rental shuddered a bit under the force of that wind.
“YOU SHOULD LEAVE the island,” Pierce said as his hand tightened around Eve’s shoulder. “You don’t want to be here when the water starts rising.”
Eve stared after Sarah. The woman had been running so fast.
Ask Johnny where his uncle is. Ask Johnny if—if someone was threatening Clay . . .
She had overheard part of Sarah’s phone conversation. But who would threaten a killer?
“I thought . . .” Eve cleared her throat. “I thought the condo complex was supposed to be safe in a storm.”
“The building was built to be as strong as it could be, but no place is one hundred percent safe,” Pierce said as his green gaze swept slowly over her face, concern in the depths of his eyes. “You don’t need to take chances. You should be safe. I can take you off the island. We can head up to our house in Birmingham until the storm is over. Hell, you don’t ever have to come back here. It’s not as if the place has good memories for you.”
But it must have . . . once. If she’d chosen to make her life there.
“Who would threaten him?” Eve murmured.
Dean edged closer to her. Gabe had put the guy on guard duty, and he’d been her shadow every step she’d taken that day.
“I’d threaten him!” Pierce said, obviously not having caught Sarah’s words on the phone. “He’s after you—he’s obsessed with you.”
Was he? “Why didn’t he try and talk to me?” Since she’d been on that island, why hadn’t he approached her?
“You don’t want him talking to you.”
Rain began to fall. Thunder rumbled.
“You don’t want him anywhere near you,” Pierce added, voice sharp. “Now, we need to get off this island. If we don’t hurry, it will be too late. The roads on the other side of the main bridge flood as the bay rises, and we won’t be able to pass.”
Yes, they did need to hurry. The island seemed to hold nothing but death and secrets everywhere she turned.
So . . . why did she want to stay?
Eve shook her head. “I’m not leaving without Gabe.”
“WHERE IS CLAY?” Gabe asked Johnny quietly as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.
“It’s time for transport,” Trey said. “The prisoner has to be removed before the waters rise more.”
Gabe leaned toward Johnny. “Who’s threatening your uncle?” Sarah’s question, one that he didn’t fully understand and—
Fear flashed in Johnny’s eyes. Bright, hot, terrified.
Sarah. She’d been dead to rights on that one. Someone had threatened the guy.
“You can’t ask him questions!” Trey snapped. “Not until his lawyer is here . . .” He unhooked one of Johnny’s cuffs. “I don’t care what the FBI agent told you, that’s not how things work down here. We follow the law.”
Johnny didn’t move. His fearful gaze was on Gabe’s.
“You love your uncle, don’t you?”
“H-He looks out for me. Always has.”
Now they were getting somewhere, because the cocky mask was fading from Johnny’s face. “And you look out for him.”
A faint nod was his answer. Trey unhooked the guy’s other cuff. Johnny stayed in his chair.
“Is someone hurting Clay?” That was a stab in the dark, but when Johnny blanched, Gabe knew he was right.
Shit. He needed Sarah there. She could figure this kid out, she could—
“I have to protect him.” Johnny’s voice was low. “I have to!”
And then Johnny grabbed for Trey’s gun. The cop had dropped his guard, maybe because Johnny had seemed so broken in that instant. But Trey reacted quickly, his own hand flying over the weapon.
Trey and Johnny fell to the floor. The table crashed down beside them. Gabe lunged forward because they were struggling with the gun and someone was going to get—
Shot.
The blast echoed in the room, deafening in its intensity.
The door burst open and Agent Granger ran inside.
Gabe grabbed for Trey’s shoulder, but the cop was already rolling back. Blood covered the front of his shirt, but it wasn’t his blood because Gabe could see the gaping hole in Johnny’s stomach.
Shit. “Medic!” Gabe yelled even as he shoved a stunned-looking Trey back and put his hands on Johnny’s wounds. “The kid needs help!” More help than he could give. He’d seen wounds like that in the field, and the wounded men hadn’t survived the gut shots.
Johnny’s blood soaked his fingers. “Look at me!” Gabe demanded, because the guy’s body was shaking and his eyes were rolling back in his head.
Trey swore behind him. “He didn’t give me a choice . . . dammit, he didn’t give me—”
Agent Granger tried to help Gabe. They were both desperate to stop that blood flow. But that shot had been at point-blank range, and the damage was massive.
Too massive.
“Un . . . uncle Clay?” Johnny’s voice broke.
“Stay with me,” Gabe told him. They needed a hospital!
But there wasn’t one on the island . . . shit, shit, shit!
A gasp sounded behind him. More frantic footsteps. Then—Sarah was there. Sarah had her MD. She could help.
And she was trying to help. Studying the wound, looking at Johnny’s eyes, attempting to hold him still.
“H-Help . . .” Johnny gasped.
“I’m trying, Johnny,” Sarah said, her voice soothing. “I want to help you.”
Johnny’s rolling eyes managed to fix on her. “H-Help . . . un-uncle . . .”
The man was spitting up blood.
“Please . . .”
“I want to help you first,” Sarah said as she leaned toward him. “You need to stay calm.” She glanced back at Gabe. “He needs a hospital! Is there a helicopter that can airlift—”
“Help!” Johnny’s voice was ragged, so desperate. And his hand lifted. He grabbed for Sarah’s hair and he yanked her closer.
“Un . . . cle Clay . . . good . . . help . . .”
Trey pried Johnny’s hand away from Sarah. Johnny looked up at the cop, and the terror flashed across his already pain-filled face. “Wh-Why? I—I did . . . what I was . . . s-supposed to . . .”
The man’s blood was gushing from his body. Gabe and the others tried to lift him so they could get Johnny out of there.
They ran to the parking lot. Trey was shouting that the airfield was close. That they could try and get Johnny to Mobile and the hospitals there—
But Johnny died before they even made it to the helicopter.