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Brentwood breathed into my face; his words laced with venom. “Are you thinking of him right now?”
I nodded, and he dug the barrel deeper into my skin. “Hope he was worth it.”
He forced the trigger in my hand, and my lips parted in a silent scream as I waited for the pain. But the gun had simply dry fired. And when I opened my eyes, he was there, laughing in my face.
“See how much fun we can still have?”
He was toying with me. Playing Russian Roulette. One of these shots would eventually kill me, but how long until that happened? I tried to fight him. Mentally, I tried to pull away. But my body was sluggish and uncooperative. The gun fired a second time, and a cocktail of rage and panic exploded in my chest.
I was still fighting for air when suddenly, another voice broke through the haze.
“Let her go, Brentwood.”
My eyes lanced through the darkness, but all I could make out in the shadows was a figure of another man. Brentwood was quick on his feet, but it was obvious he was caught off balance.
“Taylor?” he barked. “What the fuck are you doing here? This isn’t even your jurisdiction.”
I recognized that name, and when he stepped out from the shadows, a well of hope sprang up inside me. This was the detective from Nevada. The same detective who’d investigated the fire at Lucian’s house last year. And right now, he had his weapon aimed directly at Brentwood.
“Step away from her, and drop your weapon,” Taylor demanded.
Brentwood choked on his own caustic laughter. “Have you been following me?”
“Something about your interest in this girl just never quite sat right with me,” Taylor answered. “A few phone calls to your department was enough to confirm you weren’t working on any active cases involving the Blue sisters. Care to explain why you asked me to follow up on it?”
Brentwood smiled, and it was downright terrifying how empty his face was at that moment. “Why? Simple. You were the fucking idiot who played right into my hands. I never even had to show my face. You did all the work for me.”
Taylor shifted, tension bleeding into his features. “Drop the fucking weapon and surrender peacefully.”
“Surrender?” Brentwood mocked. “To you?”
Before Taylor could even reply, Brentwood had me propped up in front of him, using my body as a shield.
“Will somebody tell me what the fuck is going on?” I screeched.
Taylor’s eyes darted in my direction, his expression wary. “Brentwood is obsessed with you, in case you haven’t figured that out. He inserted himself into the investigation last year, claiming he was working on a related case to bring you in.”
“And now I have,” Brentwood answered darkly as he aimed his weapon at Taylor. “Is she worth dying for?”
“Please just go,” I pleaded with Taylor. I didn’t want to see anyone else hurt because of me.
Taylor hesitated, clearly vulnerable, but unwilling to leave me. Then slowly, he pulled out his phone and punched in a few numbers. Behind me, I felt Brentwood’s tension as Taylor began to speak, requesting backup and the location.
“I need officer assistance ASAP,” he demanded. “I have Detective Eric Brentwood, currently in my—”
The words ended abruptly as an explosive sound ricocheted off the walls and pierced my ears. Brentwood stumbled back, dragging me with him as Taylor crumpled onto the ground. They’d shot each other at the same time.
In shock and unable to move, all I could do was scream as my gaze landed on Taylor. He was bleeding out, and behind me, Brentwood was struggling to apply pressure to his bicep. With a strength that seemed to come from nowhere, I managed to pull away from his grasp and begin crawling across the floor.
“They’ll come for you,” Taylor sputtered on his own blood when I reached him. “But be careful who you trust.”
Long after his eyes grew dim, and he stopped moving, I was still trying to save him. Covered in his blood, I collapsed beside him, finally accepting the painful consequences of reality. He was gone. Trouble was gone. And somehow, all this collateral damage felt like my fault.
I was dazed and disoriented when the onslaught of uniformed officers arrived. Before I could even catch up, Brentwood was spinning his web of lies. Vaguely, I could hear him telling the officers how he’d discovered me running down the street, away from the crime scene, gun in hand.
The first responding officer looked over at me, shaking his head. “Let’s take her in.”
“Let me do the honors.” Brentwood gripped my arm in silent warning as he walked me outside, threatening me with the words he didn’t need to say. If I spoke up, there was no telling what he might do. He’d already proved he wasn’t above killing someone to get his way. But regardless, he made sure I knew it when he stuffed me into the back of a squad car and leaned down into my face.
