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"And who's the mystery person?"
At that moment, she saw him, and her stomach churned. For the first time, she saw him, close up and in real life. He was standing in the corner, deep in conversation with two other dark-haired, hard-faced men. He was holding a beer. She’d seen photos, but they didn’t convey his height or the hardness of his face. He had cruel eyes, piercing blue, and a dark widow’s peak of hair that curled over his forehead.
"Him," she said, jerking her thumb discreetly toward the group, feeling horror and hatred surge inside her at the thought of what this man had done and what he hadn't done. What he'd neglected to do. How he'd ignored her sister's plight and botched the case.
"Why?" With his back to her, Ethan couldn’t yet see the group, and Cami was using him as cover, being careful to stay behind him so that Liam didn’t notice her.
"I'll tell you when we're out."
"Okay. But be careful. This is not a good place," Ethan warned.
They moved forward, pushing through the crowds. Cami had her phone out. She was sure that she was going to get this. The music was loud, but there was a pause in the relentless throbbing beat, and over it, Liam was talking louder.
"I don't know about that Jack," he was saying. "But he's got a point. If you don't have a dog in the fight, you'll be taken."
Cami had him. She’d gotten the recording, and she hoped that it would be enough. That snippet of conversation would hopefully provide the key she needed to unlock his machine.
But as she thought that, he looked around.
He didn't see her. She turned away in time, but he saw Ethan.
"Hey!" he shouted angrily. Cami felt her spine chill. They'd been spotted. Had she really thought she could do this without being noticed, without drawing any attention from a man who was clearly on the lookout, if not totally paranoid?
She felt a cold sense of dread about what might happen next.
The next moment, with a gasp, Ethan grabbed her hand and practically hauled her out of the bar.
"Cami, come, this way. What are you doing trying to record his voice? I know him, and he's bad, bad news."
"Why?" she asked breathlessly. She should have realized that as an ex-FBI agent, Liam might be known to Ethan. Perhaps their employment dates had overlapped, or else, had he known about him for some other reason?
Ethan clearly didn’t want to waste a moment in getting out of here. He walked rapidly down the street, holding her hand tight, heading for the basement parking where his car was.
But then, behind them, they heard the sound of running footsteps, thumping along the paving.
There was something about that sound that prickled her instincts. An intent in the way those footsteps were approaching. Feeling suddenly apprehensive, Cami turned around, and as she did, the unthinkable happened.
A whiplash shot split the air.
She gasped, feeling utterly shocked, disoriented, and confused by what was playing out. Were they being mugged? This man had a gun. He was holding a gun. And he’d fired it. At them?
He veered into an alleyway, almost quicker than her thoughts could keep up. And then, beside her, Ethan staggered. His hand ripped away from hers.
Cami screamed. Ethan was holding his chest, gasping. He'd been shot. This gunman, this mugger, this dark-clothed person who'd now ducked left into an alleyway had deliberately shot at Ethan. The bullet had gone into Ethan’s back and out of his chest. Ethan was grabbing the wound, his knees buckling, a look of horror on his face.
"No!" she yelled. This couldn’t be happening! How had a nightmare overtaken them so fast? "Help! Someone help!" she screamed. But the streets were dark, empty, and unfriendly. Her boyfriend was shot, bleeding and gasping for air.
She pulled out her phone, dialing 911 with shaking hands, the first time she'd ever had to do this, and now it was because someone was dying, someone she was close to, someone she'd given her heart to.
“Please, help us,” she gabbled into the phone. Breathlessly, she gave the coordinates where Ethan was now lying, staring up at the darkened sky, fighting for every shallow breath.
She ripped off her jacket and pressed it into the wound. She was scared to hurt him, but that blood was pouring out, pumping from the bullet hole. Ethan was sheet-white, coughing. He was trying to tell her something, words bubbling from his lips.
"Run, Cami. Run,” he whispered. “This was him, I'm telling you. He did this. You're in danger now. Run!"
She shook her head stubbornly, pressing on the wound, tears streaming from her eyes.
"He didn't see me. And I'm going nowhere! I don’t care what happens. I'm staying right here with you."
Cami crouched down, frantically trying to stem the bleeding, feeling shocked and terrified and blindsided by what had played out. Ethan was right, it had been too much of a coincidence and that had been a deliberate shot. Almost a hit. But the gunman hadn't been Liam himself. Had he sent someone after Ethan? How had he done so, and so fast? What was he connected to?
There was so much that Cami didn't know.
She didn't know if Ethan would live.
She didn't know if the ambulance or the gunman would find them first.
But there was one thing she knew. This was not the end. And if she survived tonight, there was going to be payback.
"I promise you that, Liam," Cami whispered, feeling icy resolve crystallize in her heart.
