The bullet burned across the surface of his arm but missed puncturing another hole in his body. Beckett stumbled forward, dizzy. Every nerve ending in his leg screamed for relief. The attacker’s knife hadn’t gone too deep, but there was a possibility he was losing blood a lot faster than he’d originally calculated. He closed in on the two women struggling for the weapon.
That flash of red along Raleigh’s white T-shirt. A sickening twist knotted his gut. She could’ve been injured in the explosion. He had to get her out of here. Had to get her help. What if it affected the baby? Neither of them would forgive themself if something happened to their daughter. His injured leg dragged behind him, and a single kick from the attacker knocked him off-balance. He hit the ground, his shoulder reminding him there was still a piece of steel lodged deep in the muscles of his shoulder.
Wrapping her gloved hands around Raleigh’s throat, the woman she’d called Emily fought to smother his future right in front of him. Raleigh’s legs kicked out in an attempt to loosen the other woman’s grip, but the shooter had the advantage, and she knew it.
“Get your damn hands off of her.” A growl built in his chest as he reached out for the nearest item he could use as a weapon—a shovel—and swung. Hard. The metal reverberated off bone into his hands, and the shooter collapsed onto her side. Strained coughing kicked his heart rate into overdrive as Raleigh struggled to sit upright, and he tossed the shovel. Crouching beside Raleigh, he skimmed the angry red skin along her neck. “Tell me you’re okay. Is the baby okay?”
“I think so.” Her hand shook above her wound as she pulled the oversize green sweater away. She nodded, out of breath. Wild green eyes focused on the woman unconscious beside her. “It was her. Emily. She pretended to be my assistant so she could ensure all the evidence of the missing funds pointed to me like we thought. She set up the offshore accounts in my name, forged my signature on the transfers. All of it, but she wasn’t working alone.”
“She had a partner.” Clarity slid through him for the first time since he’d caught up to her in that old cabin less than twenty-four hours ago. Hell. Had it really only been a day? Beckett pulled a set of cuffs—the same set he’d secured Raleigh with—and dragged Emily’s wrists behind her back. Slight movements from the hay in front of her mouth said she was still alive, but she’d have to deal with a hell of a headache when she woke. “Makes sense. My guess is she’s a professional. She’s been trained in weapons and hand-to-hand combat better than most of the deputies on my team. Someone like that is usually only good for one thing—following orders. She was hired. Emily probably isn’t even her real name. Most likely a cover planted inside the foundation.”
He hauled Emily from the floor and dragged her upright against one of the empty horse stalls, his leg threatening to give out with each step. Sweeping the shooter’s gun from the floor, he tucked it into his empty shoulder holster. Where his service weapon had ended up, he had no idea. Right now, it didn’t matter. He’d just make damn sure Emily never laid another hand on Raleigh again. Ever.
“Whoever sent her to kill us is going to know she didn’t finish the job. If they were willing to hire someone like this in the first place, there’s nothing stopping them from doing it again.” Raleigh wedged her boots into the hay-covered floor until her back pressed against the opposite stall from Emily. Clutching her side with one hand, she slid her palm across her lower abdominals with the other, as though seeking assurance the small life inside was still there after nearly being blown to pieces. Fresh blood spread beyond the border of where her sweater skimmed the waistband of her jeans. Color drained from her face as she shook her head slowly. “We’re still in danger. We’ll always be in danger as long as I’m a loose end. It’s never going to stop.”
“I’m going to find who did this. I give you my word. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again. Understand?” Crouching as best he could in front of her, he swept her sweater out of the way, one hand cradled at her lower back as he studied the piece of shrapnel in her side. Shallow exhalations brushed against the overheated skin of his neck despite the frigid temperatures outside. Ripping his coat from his shoulders, he bit down on the groan working up his throat from the bullet wound. “You’re losing blood. Stay as still as you can while I find something to get that metal out.”
“This wasn’t how I imagined seeing you again.” Her lashes brushed against the tops of her cheeks. Letting her hand fall to the top of her thigh, she revealed the bloodstained handprint across the white T-shirt she wore. Directly over where their baby would be.
“How exactly did you think it would play out?” He had to keep her talking, had to get her to hang on. Because despite the mess they’d made of their relationship, he still gave a damn about what happened to her. Her and their baby. Beckett shoved to his feet. He pushed the pain and weakness in his leg to the back of his mind. Red-and-white decals drove him toward the large first-aid kit hung against one wall of the barn. Clean her up. Get her to safety. Nothing else mattered.
His heart stalled in his chest as he turned at her lack of response and noted the slackness in her expression. He hauled the kit from the wall and limped back to her side. The kit skidded across the cement, bits of dust and hay digging into his knees. Framing one hand along her jawline, he brushed her hair out of the way with the other. She was breathing but unconscious. Sweat built in a thin layer along her temples. Couldn’t be an infection. Not this fast. “Raleigh, open your eyes.”
No answer.
No. He maneuvered her flat onto her back, raised his voice and checked her pulse at the base of her throat. “Raleigh.”
“Looks like I’ve done my job after all.” The thud of Emily Cline setting her head back against the warm-colored wood of the stall reached his ears. “Although I have to admit, Raleigh Wilde wasn’t nearly as easy to surprise as her partner, but this was a lot more fun. A challenge.”
“Calvin Dailey.” Of course Emily had killed him. Because the only person who could clear Raleigh’s name couldn’t be left to the chance he’d never talk to the feds in the future. Beckett didn’t bother looking at the woman sent to ruin Raleigh’s life as he spun the first-aid kit latch toward him. He riffled through the contents, pulling alcohol, cotton pads and an emergency sewing kit from inside. “Say another word, and I’ll make sure you don’t wake up a second time.”
“Promises, promises, Marshal Foster.” Emily Cline’s laugh pooled dread at the base of his spine. “But don’t forget, I was able to insert myself into a global foundation and operate without raising any red flags from the executives for over a year, and the only way I could’ve done that was by doing my research. I know you.” The weight of her attention constricted the air in his chest. “Your moral code you pride yourself on so highly doesn’t let you see in anything but black and white since you realized your father was the reason you lost your mother. At least, until yesterday, when you decided that woman was worth risking your career and everything you believed in. You’re finally seeing the world isn’t black-and-white. No matter how many criminals you’ve put away to prove otherwise, I know you won’t kill me in cold blood. You don’t have it in you.”
Beckett’s hands hovered above Raleigh’s wound, blood trickling from the shrapnel with every shallow breath she took. His ears rang at the sight. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see anything in front of him but the dark outline of his mother bleeding to death on the floor of their farmhouse all those years ago. His vision swam, his heart pounding hard behind his ears to the point he thought he might pass out. The only person who’d ever supported him, who’d always been there for him, had slipped away as easily as water draining from a tub.
No. Not the only person. Beckett forced himself back into the moment. If it hadn’t been for Emily Cline and whoever else was involved in embezzling that money from the foundation, Raleigh wouldn’t have been arrested, wouldn’t have left him. He hadn’t been able to help his mom then. It’
d been too late for her, but it wasn’t too late for Raleigh. Beckett raised his gaze to the woman merely hired to take everything that he cared about from him. “You don’t know a damn thing about me or what I’m capable of.”
“The problem isn’t me knowing what you’re capable of, Marshal. It’s how little you know about me.” The cuffs rattled as Emily leaned forward, stretching her arms straight behind her. She wound her legs beneath her and brought her cuffed wrists to the front. In less time than it’d taken to put her in the cuffs, she was suddenly standing. She moved fast, diving forward for the gun he’d set down a few feet away while trying to take care of Raleigh’s injury.
Beckett lunged, but he wasn’t fast enough. Hand gripped around steel, he bit back the scream of pain as Emily’s boot crushed down hard on the wound in his shoulder. In less than a few seconds, he found himself at the wrong end of the gun.
“I’m sure you can understand the kind of pressure I’m under to finish this job, Marshal Foster. So forgive me if I’m not willing to let you save her life first.” The shooter increased the pressure on his shoulder. “You’re unarmed. You don’t have a vehicle or any way to contact your team out here. You can chase me if you want. I might even enjoy it, but that means arresting your suspect or leaving Raleigh here to bleed out. What’s it going to be? Uphold the oath you made as a deputy or break that legendary moral code of yours to save a fugitive?”
Blood pooled beneath one side of Raleigh’s body. She was running out of time, but bringing Emily Cline in would clear her name of the embezzlement charges and give their baby the future he and Raleigh both wanted. Beckett tried pulling his arm out from under the weight of the shooter’s foot, but the pain limited the use of the muscles across his back and down his arm. Twisting his head up, he locked his attention on his attacker. If he went after Emily, he wouldn’t have a future. Period. But if he let Emily slip away, Raleigh would spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. And so would their daughter.
Not happening.
Beckett rolled out from under her boot and swung a hard right toward her jaw. Emily dodged the hit, and his momentum pulled him forward. Agony tore down his spine as the shooter cracked the butt of her weapon at the base of his skull. He went down beside Raleigh, dirt filling his mouth and lungs. His hand pressed against hers as Emily stood above him. His body wouldn’t obey his commands. Raleigh. He had to get up. “Stay away from her.”
The shooter’s weak smile broke through the darkness as she crouched next to him, dark hair sliding into her face, but her brown eyes didn’t reflect the coldness visible a few minutes ago any longer. “We all have our roles to play, Marshal. This is mine.”
* * *
UNCONSCIOUSNESS RIPPED OUT from under her as throbbing tore through her side. Sunlight speared her retinas, blinding her until the outline of someone in front of her took shape. She pressed her feet into the floor to stand, but something kept her pinned in the chair she’d been set into. Rope? Raleigh tugged at her wrists, the bark scratches along her forearms still stinging. Not rope. The edges of the material were too sharp. Zip ties. She blinked against the wide spread of blood across her T-shirt. The piece of shrapnel had been removed, but she was still bleeding. Her throat burned as she cleared a coat of dirt layering her mouth and raised her head from her chest. “Beckett?”
“I’m afraid he won’t be able to save you this time.” The dark shape in front of her shifted. Her eyes adjusted slowly, but she didn’t need to see who’d tied her to the chair against one of the horse stalls to recognize that voice. “Unfortunately for him, he won’t be saving anyone when this is over.”
“Emily. What are you…?” Dizziness flooded through her, blurring the fine lines around the woman’s wide brown eyes. Nausea churned in her stomach. The baby. She hadn’t eaten in a few hours and her blood sugar had dipped. Raleigh shook her head to clear the tension working down her spine. “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing a surgeon can’t fix, and as long as you’re straight with me, I can get him to a hospital in time.” Emily gripped a pair of rounded pliers typically used in shoeing horses and clenched between the teeth a jagged piece of shrapnel. The same piece of shrapnel that’d been embedded in Raleigh’s side. Her former assistant had removed the sliver, and the blood trickling down Raleigh’s side flowed more freely. She discarded the pliers and the jagged metal onto the floor. “But you don’t have long at all.”
She was bleeding out.
“What do you want?” She pulled her inner wrists apart, but there wasn’t any room to maneuver. Emily had made sure of that.
“Who else aside from Marshal Foster and Calvin Dailey did you tell about what you found during your little off-the-books investigation?” Sunlight reflected off a long piece of steel as Emily pulled a blade from her back.
What she’d found? She hadn’t found anything in the four months she’d been looking for whoever’d set her up to take the fall for the embezzlement charges. All she had was a theory with no proof to back it up. What she had found, she was sure the feds had already combed through. The offshore accounts and wire transfers, it all pointed to her. That was the entire point of Emily’s and her partner’s operation, wasn’t it? “I’m not telling you anything until I know Beckett is safe.”
A low-pitched laugh blustered from between the shooter’s lips. Raleigh eyed the heavy metal pliers her former assistant had forgotten about.
“Every second you waste here is another second your marshal doesn’t have, and I’m starting to lose my patience with you, Raleigh.” Emily stood, the blade gripped tight in one hand. She shifted her weight between both feet as though forcing herself not to end this interrogation prematurely. Which, if she were being honest with herself, Raleigh appreciated. “Who else knows about the secondary account, the one the feds haven’t linked to the missing donations? I recovered the hidden file on your laptop you stashed in the safe at the cabin. I know you found it, and Marshal Foster is running out of time.”
Raleigh had threatened to expose the account in an attempt to make Emily reconsider spilling more blood, but it’d been mostly bravado at the time. She’d taken a shot in the dark after calculating how much money had been taken from the accounts she’d overseen for the foundation and the amount the FBI had reported missing during their investigation. The numbers didn’t match up, which meant Emily and whoever else she was working for hadn’t funneled everything into one account. There had to be another or maybe several, and the feds had no idea they existed.
“Either I see Beckett or you risk going back to your boss empty-handed with a whole lot of blood leading back to you.” She was taking a risk making demands. The back of her neck prickled, and she stretched her hands to work out a cramp along one tendon. A sharp, slightly rounded edge caught on her heated skin. The head of a nail? She slipped her thumb around the metal. If she could get her wrists closer to the stall door, she might be able to break the zip tie without Emily noticing. She just had to keep her former assistant distracted long enough to come up with a plan to get Beckett out of here. “I don’t think you want that. You’ve accounted for everything in your operation. You’ve been planning this for a long time, and there’s a lot of money at stake. How is it going to look to your employer when you fail? Do you think they’ll let you walk away?”
“If I were you, I’d worry about yourself. Because when this is over, I’m going to enjoy watching the life drain from your eyes.” Emily closed the distance between them and pressed cold steel against her throat.
The tip of the knife cut into the oversensitized skin below Raleigh’s jaw, but she refused to flinch. Refused to give up an ounce of confidence.
“Funny, here I was thinking the exact same thing.” Raleigh tried to relax the muscles down her back, but the pain in her side stole the air from her lungs. Unsticking her hair from her face with one shoulder, she followed Emily’s path into one of the other stalls.
&n
bsp; Her former assistant slid the stall door back on its rails, exposing the man unconscious in the hay. Emily locked dark brown eyes on her from less than ten feet away, and Raleigh’s gut clenched. Beckett. “You know, I started watching you—studying you—long before I walked into your office that first day, Raleigh. I know you. I know what drives you, what scares you, even how far you’re willing to go to protect the people you care about.”
“I didn’t realize this was a therapy session.” Raleigh straightened her arms a bit more, then set the edge of the zip tie around her wrists on top of the partially exposed nail head behind her. Interlocking her fingers together, she applied as much pressure as she dared without giving away her attempt to escape. “Is this where you tell me all the reasons I keep people at arm’s length or what my dreams really mean?”
“Not at all. It means I can pretty much do anything to you physically, mentally, emotionally, and nothing will get beneath that guarded exterior of yours. I could threaten and torture you all day, and I might get lucky, but neither of us has the time for that, do we? Quite admirable, in fact. Some of the best operators I’ve known can’t withstand pain as long as you can, but Marshal Foster, on the other hand?” Emily sidestepped out from in front of the stall door where Beckett lay and unholstered the gun from beneath the black jacket she wore. She took aim at Beckett, and ice flooded through Raleigh’s veins, straight to her heart. “Do you think he’ll last long? I mean, I’ve already shot him and stabbed him, but how long do you think he’ll hold on if I put another bullet in him? Should we see?”
The zip tie slipped from the nail behind her back as Raleigh turned her attention to the man who’d risked his life to protect her and their baby. “He has nothing to do with this. You know that.”
“You brought him into this when you reached out to him after your arrest. You made him part of this.” Emily raised her voice and slipped her finger over the trigger of the gun. “Now you have five seconds to tell me who else knows about that account before I put another bullet in him and make you watch him die before I kill you for good measure. Five…”
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