She found herself tapping her thigh nervously with her fingers, and she finally opened the door, stepping outside into the cool night air. She paced aimlessly, back and forth, waiting for something to happen.
“We’re beside the house,” Eric said quietly.
“Let me see if I can get a reading on their positions,” Cameron said.
Sam looked to the sky, seeing an endless array of stars overhead. She blew out her breath, knowing it could all be over within a few minutes.
“What the hell? I’ve only got three now,” Cameron said.
“Maybe you had a false reading earlier,” Reynolds said.
“No way.”
“The only doors are the front and the one at the carport,” Eric said. “No one has come out.”
“There are goddamn windows at the back, aren’t there?”
Sam listened to their exchange, frowning slightly as the possibility sunk in. It was then that she felt, rather than saw movement beside her. She turned and gasped as Angel stood not five feet from her, his gun pointed at her.
“Angel.”
“Hello, Sam.” He walked closer. “Lose the weapon,” he said, pointing at her holster.
She held her hands up, staring in disbelief at him. “What…what do you want?”
“The weapon, Sam. Toss it on the street.” He came closer still, his gun pointing directly at her face. “Now.”
* * *
Andrea turned, one hand pressed against her ear, shocked by what she was hearing. Angel. She ran back toward the car, trying to ignore the others as their voices all sounded in her ear at once. She could no longer make out Sam’s voice over the others, and she had no idea what was happening. As she caught sight of the car, she saw Angel shoving Sam inside through the passenger’s door. She skidded to a halt and took aim, firing without thinking. She saw Angel flinch, then saw him turn in her direction. Gunfire erupted and she dove behind a parked car, covering her head as the windows were blown out, spraying glass all around her. The roar of the engine and squeal of tires had her bracing as the rental car bumped the fender of the car she’d taken cover behind.
As soon as it pulled off down the street, she stood, aiming but didn’t fire. She couldn’t take a chance on hitting Sam.
The chatter in her ear became nearly unbearable, but she did notice that Sam’s voice was absent. Had Angel found the mic? The earpiece?
“Reynolds, find out who’s in the goddamn house!” Cameron yelled. “Call for backup.”
“Sam! Sam! Are you there?” Tori pleaded.
Andrea heard tires squealing and knew Cameron and Tori were on their way. She walked over to where the rental car had been parked. Broken glass littered the street and her boots crunched across it. She flashed her light around, stopping when she saw blood. Not a lot, but enough to know she’d hit him. She bent down and picked up Sam’s weapon, tucking it into her jeans at the waist.
She looked up as a truck sped her way, and she stepped aside as Cameron pulled to an abrupt stop.
“What the hell happened?”
* * *
“Turn here…to the left,” Angel said.
Sam took a chance with a quick glance in his direction. He was still holding the gun on her, but his other hand clutched his stomach.
“Are you hit?”
“Just drive.”
“Angel, are you hit?” she asked again as she turned the corner
He didn’t answer, but she could tell his breathing was labored. She gripped the steering wheel hard, trying to decide what to do. Would he really shoot her? After all this, would he really shoot her?
“Why are you doing this, Angel?”
He slumped back against the seat. “I’m sorry, Sam. Sorry for all of it.”
She recognized the pain in his voice. “How bad are you hit?”
“Yeah, she got me pretty good,” he said. “Was that your Tori?”
Sam shook her head. “No. That was Agent Sullivan. Andrea,” she said.
“What’s with all these women agents?” he asked. “But no, I didn’t think that was your Tori.”
“Angel, let me take you to the hospital,” she said.
“No, Sam. That’s not how it’s going to end.”
He leaned his head back, and she glanced at him again. The gun was no longer pointing at her, thankfully. He still clutched his stomach and in the dim light from the dashboard, she could see blood covering his hand.
“It’s not too late.”
“It is too late. Far too late,” he said. “I’d rather die than spend my life in prison.” He turned toward her. “There’s a road up ahead. A forest road. Take it to the right.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you to the money,” he said. “Do you have your cell on you?”
She hesitated. If she said yes, would he toss it out the window like he’d done the mic and earpiece?
“Yes,” she finally said.
“Good. Then they can track you.”
* * *
“Let’s go already,” Tori said as she paced beside the truck.
“Go where?” Cameron said as she motioned down the street.
Andrea heard sirens in the distance and knew that the shots had been reported. Porch lights had popped on all over, and she could see people coming out of their houses, no doubt wanting to see what was going on.
“Come on, Cameron! We’ve got to do something,” Tori said loudly.
“We don’t know where he went,” Cameron said just as loudly. “Let me think.”
Andrea let her fingers circle Cameron’s arm tightly. “Track her cell phone,” she said.
Cameron nodded. “Yeah. That would be too easy, wouldn’t it?” She took her phone out and walked a few paces away. “Rowan? Angel’s got Sam. I need you to track her cell. I’ll bring it up on the truck’s console, like we did in Barstow.” She paused. “And get some backup out here for Reynolds and Eric.”
Andrea turned to Tori. “We’ll find her.”
Tori shook her head. “That goddamn bastard. I can’t believe he’s got her again.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think he’ll hurt her.”
Tori stared at her. “You don’t know that.”
“I think Sam knows that.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
While the forest road was a decent gravel road, the one he directed her down now was bumpy and uneven. She heard him moan in pain as they hit a hole.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
His jaw was clenched and his breathing ragged. “Just a little farther. It’s an old hunting cabin,” he said. “My dad used to come up here with some of his buddies. Hunting was the excuse for coming here, but all they did was drink.”
“Who owns it?”
“Not sure,” he said. “It looks like it hasn’t been used in twenty years or more.”
She slowed her pace even more as the road all but disappeared. The lights cut through the darkness, through pines and scrub oak and the ever-present smattering of rocks.
“Are you sure this is the road?”
“There’s a little opening to the right,” he said. “The cabin is beyond that.”
She slowed to a crawl, finally seeing the opening he was talking of. “Will the car make it?”
He didn’t answer, and she turned down the little path. The trees scratched the car as she squeezed through, then her headlights found the cabin he was talking about. It appeared to be little more than a shanty. She turned to him, but his eyes were shut, his face etched in pain. The gun lay beside him on the seat, and she knew she wasn’t in any danger, if she’d ever been.