Page 149 of Shadow

In the split second between the movement and clearing his holster, it all pinged inside Asher.

Daphne’s exchange with Destiny: This won’t end well for you.

Hardly. The FBI works for us.

Daphne thought Destiny meant him, but…he hadn’t given away his ranch location. Not to the syndicate.

He had, however, told Patterson.

You shouldn’t be surprised. You know I’ve been one step ahead of you for years. Long before Renegade. I know what you did in Denver. And I let you live anyway.

The only link between him and Denver was…Patterson.

Patterson had brought him here. Had assigned him to work with the syndicate.

Patterson was the mole. Had always been the mole.

And Asher was his fall guy.

And now he was going to tie up all the loose ends.

The blown cover at the retirement community. Patterson had known they were there. Had told Dmitri.

And had pointed Draven to the ranch.

And now—now Patterson needed Roger dead. Needed Asher dead. Needed Daphne dead. Anyone who could testify about the operation. Anyone who could expose that the FBI handler had been working for the syndicate.

And all of that clicked in the split second between when Patterson’s hand moved and Asher lunged at him.

The gun went off, deafening in the concrete space. Something punched him, low in the back, but he ignored it as they slammed into the concrete wall. Then Asher swept the man’s feet, and they went down. Asher landed on top of him, fighting for the weapon.

Behind him, he heard a scuffle—probably Roger taking his moment.

Patterson slammed his fist into Asher’s upper arm, and he felt the glued wound rip. Didn’t care.

He slammed his fist into Patterson’s face, his other hand on his wrist. Patterson roared, his nose broken.

Asher hit him again and slammed his hand onto the ground.

The gun came loose.

Daphne’s voice. “I got him, Ash. I got him!”

He grabbed Patterson around the neck. “You did this!”

“Asher!”

Daphne. Footsteps running across the concrete dust.

“Let him go. This isn’t you. You’re a hero, not a killer.”

Yeah, well, not really.

“Asher. Sweetheart. Honeycakes. Buttercup.”

He looked up at her.

Dani ran down the hallway, her gun pulled. Behind her, Michael, and then a couple other cops he didn’t know.