Page 127 of End Game

Outside of a large tree that had uprooted decades ago, there was no available cover nearby. The trees were small and uniform in diameter, indicating the area had been logged, probably within the past twenty years.

Leaves crackled behind him a second before cold metal raked against his inner wrist. The zip tie fell away.

Surprised, he whirled around, then had to throw his arms out to counteract a wave of dizziness that nearly dropped him face-first. He blinked several times to bring the two black-clad figures into focus.

Something heavy thudded at his feet. He looked down.

A shovel.

“Get digging, dead man.”

Digging a hole would sap the last of his strength, the last of his hope for escape. He channeled Phin. “I’m an FBI agent, trying to protect American citizens. Same as you, when you were in the military.”

They lifted their rifles from the low ready position. Two red dots crawled up his body, then pulsed against his chest.

“Dig,” the guard on the left repeated.

So much for establishing a personal connection.

Ash’s hands curled into fists, as he stared down the two hired guns.

In unison, they moved into a shooting stance. One leg braced behind the other. Rifle buttstock to shoulder. Upper body slightly forward.

Drawing in a breath, he eased his right hand open, bent toward the shovel, and toppled to the ground.

65

“Take off your clothes.”

Kayla stared at the largest of Elsie’s henchmen. Fear fluttered at the edge of her consciousness.

Do you trust me?

Ash’s words came back to her. He had a plan to get them out of this. She didn’t know what it could be though. The odds against his success were astronomical.

But she trusted him to keep his word. Until then, it was her job to make sure Jillian stayed alive. Even if it cost her a piece of her soul.

“Clothes,” the guard prompted.

The flutters didn’t beat faster. They hardened. Turned poker hot.

Kayla shook her head. “I’m not about to make your job easy, Marco.” She braced herself. Waited for him to storm over and strike her or rip away her clothing.

He didn’t bother. Didn’t need to. With all the exertion of a slug, he strode to where her mother sat on a large, square ottoman and pressed the barrel of his weapon to her temple.

No more commands. Just a hard stare.

Jillian’s back was ramrod straight. She didn’t flinch, nor did her gray eyes plead with Kayla to comply.

She knew why. Her mother didn’t have the benefit of knowing Ash would return to save them. She assumed their fates were sealed and had decided not to let her enemy see the terror that no doubt rippled through her body in ever-increasing waves.

Kayla hated the fact that she couldn’t soothe her mother’s fears. All she needed was five seconds alone with her, but the chances of that happening were less than zero.

Recalling Elsie’s reason for sending Ash into the woods, she said, “Forensics would have a field day with a bullet hole through Jillian Krowne’s skull.”

Marco’s response was so fast, so astonishing, so violent that Kayla didn’t realize what had happened until Jillian cried out and crumpled across the ottoman, the skin covering her cheekbone splayed open to the bone.

“You sonafabitch!” Kayla rushed across the room, looking for something to staunch the blood. When nothing appeared, she yanked her cotton top over her head and eased the skin back together before pressing her shirt against the wound. “I’m sorry, Mama. So sorry.”

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