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Brea stood on her tiptoes and kissed Pierce for what she prayed wouldn’t be the final time. “No matter what, I love you. I didn’t know who I was or what I was supposed to do with my life until I met you.”
“Same, pretty girl,” he whispered. “Do your best, and if it doesn’t work—”
“Shh. I’ll make it work. You taught me to be strong and stand up for what I want. That’s what I’m going to do.”
Brea pressed her lips to his, then cuddled to him as close as she could, feeling the quick but steady beat of his heart. Then she raised her head, stepped away, and set off to save her man.
“Are you finally leaving?” Clara snapped.
Brea held up Pierce’s keys with a nod. “I’ll be gone in two minutes.”
“Good riddance.” As she walked away, Clara went on. “Look, Walker. Your woman is leaving you to die. You will depart this earth knowing you are nothing to her.” The woman laughed. “No one deserves it more.”
As soon as Brea left the circle of the light, she ran. Her pulse throbbed and adrenaline ripped fire through her veins. She wasn’t exactly sure where Pierce had parked his Jeep, but it couldn’t be far, probably near the road.
Dragging her phone from her pocket, she turned on the flashlight. The Jeep sat dark and silent a few feet away. Brea dashed to it, yanking the back door open and fumbling around in the pocket behind the driver’s seat.
Her fingers found the cool metal of the Glock, and she wrenched it free. Then she darted back for the repair shop, crouched and on her tiptoes. Brea hadn’t heard anything that sounded like a gunshot yet, and she counted her blessings, even as she counted the seconds. Pierce was clever enough to keep her talking…but Clara craved blood now.
When Brea reached the edge of the light, she found Pierce standing taut with his arms around the wide pole, wrists still cuffed. Clara hissed something in his ear. He merely shook his head once, but didn’t acknowledge her in any other way. If he knew Brea was back to save him, she saw no indication of that.
Clara stomped her feet, her face red with fury. “You killed him! Say you’re sorry.”
Pierce pressed his lips together mutely, refusing to say a word.
The woman shoved the gun against his head. “Say you’re sorry. Now!”
“You want me to lie?”
Brea’s eyes widened. Was he crazy?
With trembling hands, she raised the gun and aimed at Clara, then she hesitated. She’d only had a few weeks’ practice with a firearm. She’d never shot this gun. Fear coursed through her veins. Her hands shook. What if she missed? What if she hit Pierce instead?
Clara screeched in rage. The sound gave Brea goose bumps. Her heartbeat roared in her ears, nearly drowning out everything else.
“Say. You are. Sorry,” the woman demanded. “Or I will kill you where you stand.”
“You’re going to anyway.”
“I hate you!” Her voice got higher; her hand shook more erratically. “You killed my only brother. The only person who loved me and took care of me.”
Her finger curled around the trigger. Pierce didn’t respond at all.
Clara bared her teeth. “I want you to die.”
She meant that.
Brea’s heart leapt to her throat. She’d never thought she could willfully kill anyone, no matter the circumstance. The good girl in her who loved family, God, and all His living things had never imagined that she would intentionally snuff out anyone. But in that moment, she realized she fucking would. Yes, she might hit Pierce, but if she didn’t try, he would die. It was that simple.
She swallowed, sent a quick prayer up, then aimed. Her heart beat so fast now it inhibited her breathing and threatened to choke her. Her palms sweated. Her entire body trembled. But she focused on everything she’d learned and took a deep breath.
Then she pulled the trigger.
The recoil nearly sent her tumbling back. An instant later, Clara jolted and glanced down at the red stain blooming from her left shoulder. Then she started searching beyond the circle of light. “Bitch! I will definitely kill your man now.”
No, she wouldn’t.
Brea risked creeping a few steps closer as Clara made her way back to Pierce. She held her breath, dredged up her courage, and fired again. This time she was prepared for the kickback and managed to stay steadier on her feet.
A second scream ripped through the air, this one filled with pain. Clara looked down at the stain forming on her yellow sweater two inches closer to her heart. Blood drained from her face. She stumbled back. “No.”
Brea tried to stay strong. She didn’t speak; it would give away her hiding spot in the shadows. She didn’t argue her perspective; Clara had already made up her mind. She simply waited to see what the woman would do—fight to the death or surrender. She prayed for the latter.
