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Konnitch tapped his comm. “Searching.”
This was taking too long. “Stenikov, step away from the prisoner.”
“She disabled the tracker,” Konnitch reported.
Absolute fear sliced through Zirkov. They had no time to waste. “Stenikov, don’t make me order you a second time.”
Stenikov’s horns twisted at the tops. “Killing him won’t help her. And our orders are to return him to Dal. Alive, if possible.”
“Your orders are to do whatever I say. You will not prevent me from finding my female.”
“Do it, Sten,” Konnitch said.
The second Stenikov stepped away from Var’Len, Zirkov punched the og’dal so hard that the male spun and landed flat on his face, unconscious.
“Stenikov, secure him to a beam and then search north of the warehouse. Konnitch, go east. I’ll head south.” Water lay to the west. Between the three of them, if they moved fast, they could cover the island. “Whoever finds her, bring her back here and do whatever it takes to force the drekker to counter the last command.”
Within minutes of leaving the warehouse, Zirkov found a set of boot prints in a patch of grass. They were too fresh and small to be anyone’s but Maggie’s. He followed the boot prints, which disappeared in a series of puddles one street over.
Zirkov climbed on top of an old truck on its side in the middle of the crater-filled street. There was no sign of her anywhere. She must have backtracked.
As Zirkov climbed off the truck, he spotted bright yellow among all the drab grays and browns in the distance. “Maggie.”
With her bright yellow blouse flapping in the wind, Maggie stood on the bridge connecting Terminal Island with San Pedro. She had climbed the fencing along the pedestrian walkway and hovered over the water.
A fall from that height would kill her.
Zirkov raced to his car. He could be on the bridge in minutes.
But when he reached his vehicle, all four tires had been slashed. Var’Len or one of his men. Or even Sutherland.
Zirkov should have hidden the car. He’d been a fool about so many things, most of all Maggie. Now he might never have the chance to tell her how he truly felt about her.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
MAGGIE
As Maggie peered at the swimming pool, her brain replayed that horrific scene at the warehouse over and over. Zirkov’s body lay on the ground, five large bullet holes in his chest.
She had killed Zirkov, the only person she ever loved.
The reality of what she’d done threatened to suffocate her. She couldn’t breathe or think, only run. With the hot sun pounding down on her, she’d run until she couldn’t run anymore.
Her hand wrapped around the metal pole by the pool. She desperately wanted to cool off and forget everything, especially what she’d done.
Maggie wondered if she should strip or dive in fully dressed. This was her favorite blouse. Silk wouldn’t hold up to the chlorine, but that would give her the excuse to change into the pink top Zirkov wanted to see on her. The one with the low-cut front.
Zirkov… She’d killed him. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! The explosion of each bullet leaving her gun echoed through her head louder than the soft thuds of the bullets striking flesh.
She’dkilledZirkov!
Did she ever tell him she loved him? She couldn’t remember!
She’d never see his stoic face again, the one that offered a rare smile, usually when he thought she wasn’t looking. He had always been a bit arrogant, bossy, and usually right, but she’d seen the person inside. The person he fought so hard to hide from everyone.
Tears mixed with her sweat-stained yellow blouse. She might as well dive into the pool now. Maggie tried kicking off her flats, but the damn things seemed glued to her feet. She looked down and nearly lost her balance.
“No! Don’t jump!” a man yelled at her in the distance.
