No movement. No gunfire.
No backup.
And then...
BANG.
One gunshot. Sudden. Violent. And too close.
A shout followed, distant but close enough to taste the danger in the air.
“Shit. Shit… fuck.”
My shaking hands shot for the laptop. Backup complete. Finally.
I yanked open every encrypted folder, one after another, until my fingers blurred. Uploaded the copies. Sent them.
Toeveryaddress I had.
Internal Affairs.
The FBI.
The press.
Legal boards.
Journalists I’d worked with.
Everyone who’d attended the perp walk for Remi.
Even Gray’s full contact list.
It would be everywhere in minutes.
Even if I wasn’t.
The front steps creaked.
I froze.
Someone was close.
I ran, silent, barefoot, to the bedroom corner where Gray had told me the hatch was hidden. I tucked the gun in my waistline, slid the USB drive around my neck, and tucked it in my shirt. My fingers shook as I shoved the heavy armoire aside, every scrape of wood on wood loud enough to make me flinch.
Finally, I cleared it. Found the seam at the baseboard.
My next problem became obvious instantly:
It hadn’t been opened in years.
My nails scraped along the edges as I searched for purchase, splinters biting deep into my skin. “Come on. Come on,please…”
It didn’t budge.
Another gunshot cracked outside.
Closer this time.
