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“I know. I’m only teasing you. To be honest, when I first met you, I didn’t like you. I thought you were another pretty girl shagging her way up the ranks.”
“I’m not,” Cook said stiffly.
“I know that now.” Lewis smirked. “I was wrong. I didn’t realize it was love.”
“I didn’t say it was that either.” Cook smiled, thinking of Jack Morgan, and how they would soon be free to find out exactly what it was.
“You didn’t have to.” Lewis smiled back. “I’m sorry we didn’t get off to a good start, Cook. You and me have both come up in organizations dominated by men. At first I thought you were the kind that held women back, but now I see why you’ve got to where you are, and I hope we can stay in touch after this.”
“We will,” Cook promised. “There aren’t many people I can say have saved my life. The least I owe you is a spot on the Christmas card list.”
“Bloody hell, what an honor!” The police officer laughed. “You want a brew or what?”
But before Cook could reply, she heard a sound in the doorway.
She was about to greet the expected police officers. Instead, the words died in her throat.
Jane Cook was staring down the barrel of a gun.
Chapter 48
“MOVE AND I blow her brains out,” the masked gunman barked at Lewis.
“I’m a police officer,” she replied evenly.
“I know who you are.”
“Then you know you’re fucked if you hurt us.”
“Keep your mouth shut, pig,” the man replied. “And put your phone down on the floor. One wrong move and your mate’s brains go on the wall.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Lewis urged, wishing she had her pistol, now handed in as part of the investigation into the forest shooting. “I’ll do as you say.”
“Bollocks to that,” Cook hissed through gritted teeth. “Run, Lewis.”
“You shut up,” the gunman growled.
“Run,” Cook urged.
But Lewis would not. Instead she placed her phone onto the floor.
“Kick it away,” the gunman demanded.
Lewis did as she was bid.
“Now take out hers,” the man ordered, a slight twitch of his gun gesturing to Cook.
“Just run, Lewis,” Cook tried again, but the officer would not abandon her, and Cook’s phone joined Lewis’s on the floor.
“Now both on your knees.” The man spoke through the fabric of his mask. “Hands on your head. Interlocked fingers.”
The women complied, the pistol’s muzzle tracking Cook’s forehead through every inch.
“Who are you?” Cook asked.
“I think you can guess.” The unexpected reply came from behind the gunman as a second man entered the room. Though the newcomer’s face was also hidden behind the black mesh of a balaclava, Cook instantly recognized the voice and her skin crawled at the terrifying revelation.
Because she knew she was a dead woman.
