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If this is the same man who killed Tommy, he can shoot. He can’t know where you are.
She worked on being as quiet as possible.
“You’re not going to get away,” the voice said. Regan gauged him to be between thirty and forty yards away. Too close. He had a light.
He had a light.
She needed to take the shot. It might be their only chance of getting away from this.
“Grant,” she whispered, “keep in the ravine. Don’t go on the road, stay in the ravine. Keep walking west. Avoid houses, move as fast as you can.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Buy us time. Go. Don’t hesitate, no matter what you hear.”
“Regan—don’t do this.”
“We don’t have time to argue.Go!”
He finally went.
She headed up the slope, and then flattened herself against a tree, gun out, waiting.
The pursuer was making good time. His flashlight cutting swaths of light among the trees.
“Grant, you know what you did—you need to face the piper,” the man called out. “Come out and I’ll make it quick.”
And still, Regan waited. She had to aim at the light. She couldn’t risk missing and having him take cover, or worse, trap her. But she could take out his flashlight, and if she was quick enough, hit him. Slow him down, kill him, she didn’t really care.
She needed to protect Grant. Because she hadn’t been lying to him; he was the only one who could give Chase justice. The only one who had answers—or could turn the FBI toward the truth.
If Grant died, the truth died with him.
So she waited. Her heart rate slowed, her eyes sharpened, her hand was steady.
She only had one shot. Shoot and move. Because if he had a gun in his hand, and was a good shot, he could turn and hit her, especially at this short distance.
She didn’t have her favored .45, but she’d picked a .45 Sig from Tommy’s gun safe that had a similar weight and feel and fit well into her holster. But she hadn’t practiced with it, didn’t know how it fired. She assumed, because Tommy took care of his guns, that it would function as intended.
“I’m going to find you, Grant.”
He was closer, both his voice and his light.
The light stopped moving. Did he sense her watching?
She aimed.
The light went off.
She fired three times in rapid succession to where the light had been. The .45 had a kick; she was used to it. She heard a grunt. Not waiting to find out if he was down, she bolted.
“Regan!”
Grant’s voice came from a distance. Dammit, why couldn’t he just do what he was told and remain quiet? Hadn’t she told him to keep going, not look back? Wouldn’t that imply not to shout and give away his location?
She ran over the rocky soil, sliding on the slope, but moving forward. Toward Grant.
She could hear him coming back toward her.
