Killer Country Reunion. Jenna Night

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СКАЧАТЬ gnawed at the pit of Caroline’s stomach. The man’s behavior was odd. She thought of Owen and icy fear seeped into her chest. She slid the strap of her purse over her shoulder, took a quick look down at the bench to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind and glanced up.

      The man lifted his right hand, calmly pointed a gun at her face and fired.

      With a burst of energy born of sheer terror, Caroline lunged down and threw the right side of her body across the bench. At the same time she felt a burning sensation rip across the top of her left shoulder.

       Dear God, what’s happening?

      The gunman continued walking forward, pointing his gun down toward her head, which she now pressed against the seat of the bench. There was a silencer on the end of the gun barrel. Her father had been a cop. She knew what a silencer looked like. If no one heard the shots, no one would come to her rescue. Not until it was too late.

       Do something.

      She grabbed the bundle of papers that had slid onto the bench and flung it at him. The binder clip collided with the bridge of his nose and his head snapped back.

      Heart pounding in her chest, Caroline shoved herself up off the bench and started running.

      The van was still idling at the parking lot curb, so she ran in the opposite direction, toward the lake.

      The office complex had two levels. The bottom level was a wooden boardwalk built along the edge of Lake Cobalt. It was Friday afternoon and most people had already cleared out for the weekend. Right now, there was nobody else in sight.

      Caroline sprinted for the stairs leading down to the offices that jutted out over the water. Grabbing the newel post, she flung herself around the end of the banister and down, taking the steps two at a time, moving as fast as she could go. She tried to yell for help as she ran, but the terror flooding her body gripped her lungs so tightly that it was all she could do to keep breathing.

      She reached the bottom step and a bullet flew past her, tearing up the wooden planking by her right foot.

      She ran harder, veering to her left around a corner where she caught her foot on the leg of a bistro table, part of one of the many wrought iron sets placed around the boardwalk. Unable to catch her balance, she fell on her face, stunning herself for the first few seconds. Scrambling to right herself, she saw a smoked-glass office door straight ahead with a light glowing inside the office. She ran for it, grabbed the handle and pulled. It didn’t budge.

      “Help!” Desperate, Caroline pounded on the door with one hand while continuing to yank on the handle with the other.

      Was there even anybody in there? Terror and frustration burned through her blood like fire. She raised both fists, feeling a sharp pain in her left shoulder, and pounded on the glass door as hard as she could. “Help! Someone’s trying to kill me! Let me in! Please!”

      In the door’s reflection she saw the gunman round the corner and jog up behind her, grinning and raising his gun.

      A couple of people somewhere in the maze-like complex started yelling, but they sounded too far away to help her in time.

      It ain’t over till it’s over. It was one of her dad’s favorite expressions. He had a lot of them, and she could almost hear him in her head. Don’t you ever quit.

      She whirled around.

       Do whatever it takes.

      Options. What were her options? She could run, but continuing down the boardwalk along the straight, long stretch ahead would make her an easy target if the gunman knew what he was doing. She could jump into the water if she had to, but she’d never been a fast swimmer. And Cobalt was a deep lake. Besides, the water in late September was too chilly for swimming. Cold muscles would slow her down.

      But jumping into the lake was the only reasonable choice she could find—the one with the best shot at keeping her alive. Too bad she’d taken so long to decide. The gunman was now just a couple of steps away from her. It was too late.

       Never give up.

      She frantically looked around, and then jammed her hand into a big urn-shaped planter beside the office door. She grabbed a handful of dirt and decorative rocks and threw it in the guy’s face, hoping it would be enough of a distraction for her to get away.

      It didn’t faze him.

      Ignoring the small projectiles, he snatched her arm before she could get away. “Stop fighting. It’s over.” He lifted his gun and pointed it at her forehead.

      Someone in the office behind the locked door screamed.

      Her attacker glanced in that direction. Caroline did, too, and saw three witnesses who had moved close enough to the door to be visible and were watching the struggle playing out in front of them.

      Maybe in his reflection on the glass the gunman saw what Caroline had just noticed. In the chase, his collar had flattened out and the bottom half of his face was now uncovered. His beanie had also ridden up a little. His appearance was not as well hidden as it had been when he’d started. And even if she was killed, there were other witnesses now who had seen him.

      Still clutching her arm, the gunman dragged her away from the door, down the boardwalk and around the corner, back toward the bottom of the stairs. Maybe it was a precaution in case he got caught. None of the witnesses would be able to testify that they’d actually seen him kill her.

      Sirens wailed in the distance.

      Anger at the situation flared up alongside the fear coursing through Caroline’s body. She wasn’t going down without a fight. She twisted her arm, trying to break his grip. When that didn’t work, she kicked out her foot and tried to trip him.

      Dear Lord, she prayed, forcing her thoughts away from anticipating the shot that would end this battle. Please protect Dylan.

      Who would take care of him if she was gone? Caroline’s mom experienced lingering damage from a heart attack that made her tire more easily than she used to. She could look after the boy for several hours a day now while he was still small, freeing Caroline to take care of all the necessary legal matters, but it wasn’t a permanent solution. The task of raising him as he grew older would likely be too much for her mother, meaning she wouldn’t be able to take custody.

      Dylan’s biological mother, Michelle, had decided after eight months of motherhood that she was wasting her youth and missing out on too much fun. She’d walked out on Owen and Dylan, severed all ties and filed for divorce. Through friends in town who’d seen her, Owen knew she’d fallen in with an unsavory crowd. He’d told Caroline that while his ex-wife had never been convicted of a crime, her boyfriend had been locked up on several occasions for a variety of offenses. Most involved drugs.

      Owen had mentioned to Caroline that he suspected his former wife used drugs. For that reason, and because he realized their mother’s health was fragile, he had requested in his will that Caroline be given custodianship of Dylan should something happen to him. The court system had agreed.

      The poor kid no longer had his dad. And he hadn’t seen his mom or anyone in her family since he was an infant. He had his grandma, but he needed Caroline, too. She couldn’t СКАЧАТЬ