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“They aren’t even signed.”
“Fritz might not have signed them, but you really think a little thing like forgery is going to stop me now?”
“That form is as worthless as Fritz was.” Everleigh’s tone was surprisingly calm, compassionate even, as she delivered the news. “It has a bogus account number. He did you wrong, just like he did me and probably a dozen or more other women. But you don’t need to make this worse,” she said. “You really think you’re going to kill me and the brother of the police chief and get away with it?” Everleigh asked. “Think about it, Larissa. You know it’s not going to happen that way...”
Even then, Everleigh was taking the high road. Trying to reason with a woman who’d pretended to be a friend while Larissa had been robbing her of her entire life. “There’s no proof you killed Fritz, maybe it was in self-defense, but if you do this...you’re done...”
She was purposely trying to take control of her life and get them out alive, or just doing a damn fine job of winging it. Either way, Clarke was glad she was on his team. She was playing right into his need to take another step or two before Larissa’s hand tightened on the trigger for the shot. He’d have to move at the first sign of tightening. Any later would be too late.
“Maybe it will, maybe it won’t,” Larissa hissed. “But I’m damn sure not going to be the only one losing everything here,” she said. “I didn’t kill him so you could get rich and live the good life...”
The muscle in her hand twitched and Clarke shoved Everleigh...just as a bullet flew from the chamber.
Chapter 19
Everleigh saw the gun jerk, heard the shot, felt a deep pain and fell sideways, stumbling, tripping over her own boots, righting herself, knowing she had to stay upright or die. She heard movement, knew Clarke was there, but before she could process anything else, there was an arm around her throat and a piece of cold round steel pressed to her temple.
She wasn’t burning. Didn’t feel like she’d been shot. But she’d heard that sometimes you didn’t feel it. Sometimes the site where the bullet hit the body went numb. So, was this what it felt like to die?
She didn’t feel dead, either. Not yet.
“Come any closer and she dies.” Larissa spit in her eye as she said the words. Everleigh saw Clarke then, still slightly behind the desk, his gaze cold, calculating, and his gun pointed right at Larissa. Her former friend wasn’t going to make it out of this situation. As soon as she shot Everleigh, he’d shoot her.
His gun went off, or Larissa’s did again. Everleigh fell to the floor, heart pounding blood through her—and out of her?—at a ferocious pace. She still didn’t feel any deep wounds. Any burning or searing pain. Her leg hurt where she’d fallen against something, but she could hardly think. Loud noise came then, close by, within inches, and she opened her eyes in time to see Clarke with one arm around Larissa’s upper body, and the other holding her hands behind her back.
She saw his gun on the floor, inches from her head. And realized that her skull—and the rest of her body—was still completely intact. That was when she started to shake. To shiver.
And to lie there, afraid to get to her feet.
* * *
She hadn’t been hit. He knew she hadn’t been hit. He hadn’t waited for Larissa’s hand to clench; instead, Clarke had taken his shot at the wall just above her head and dived in while she ducked, using his gun to knock hers away and then dropping his own to get her in a grasp she would not escape from. Larissa’s weapon had not gone off a second time. And yet, as Clarke secured his perp, he wasn’t seeing Everleigh get up. He needed to see her get up.
Oh, God. What if she was hurt? If he’d failed to protect her...
He heard a scuffle and then the front door burst open, followed by a flurry of armed officers entering the room. He’d known they wouldn’t be far away. He wouldn’t have had Everleigh there without them close by.
But the morning had almost been a disaster anyway. Of the worst kind. Way too close for comfort.
Grace was immediately on task as she surveyed the room, heading straight to Everleigh; and as a couple of uniforms relieved him of his hostage, Clarke saw Everleigh sit up.
He took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Started to shake. Blinked back moisture.
And went outside to meet Troy to give his report.
* * *
Everleigh assured Grace Colton she was fine. She hadn’t been shot after all. Wasn’t bleeding. And the shock was already passing. She didn’t want to go to the hospital, to have anyone poking around. No examinations.
She didn’t want anyone to know she’d recently had sex. And if she needed counseling, she knew where to find it.
She didn’t really know what she wanted, other than to see her grandmother. To let her know that the murder part of their ordeal was over.
To tell her that she’d been duped by her own friend.
And, mostly, to beg her to tell her attorney to go to the DA for a plea deal.
She wanted to go home...and realized how crazy the thought was, since she was standing in her own front yard, coat on, arms wrapped around herself, still shivering, while law-enforcement vehicles arrived and various personnel did what they had to do. Her house was once again a crime scene and being taped off.
