Page 146 of End Game

“I know.”

“It could have a lasting, negative effect.”

Nightmares, mental flashes, sweats, panic attacks.

She’d already considered the consequences. None of them could hold a candle to wiping away the haunting image of Vicky dying in front of her. Tonight, she would erase one terror and replace it with a lesser one. “I understand.”

“Make it quick. We’re running out of time.”

She plucked the paper off Sybil’s forehead. Her stomach clenched at the familiar round, dark hole. Swallowing, she turned away and took a step toward Elsie’s side of the macabre scene.

“Kayla,” Rohan cautioned, “please reconsider.”

Sirens echoed in the distance. Jillian had either succeeded or someone on the opposite ridge had noticed the orange glow against the night sky. Kayla hoped it was the former.

She paused. “What’s one more?”

“It won’t be one more. It’s a new horror all its own.”

Kayla frowned, her gaze jumping from one brother to the next, trying to divine their thoughts.

Zeke sighed. “The two wounds you’ve seen were entry wounds.” He pointed at Elsie. “That’s an exit wound.”

Shifting her stance, she forced herself to look at the back of Sybil’s head and nearly lost what little food she had in her stomach. The wound was gaping, messy, nothing like the near perfect hole on her face.

“How did?—?”

Mason had used one bullet to kill them both. Now she understood why he’d tied the sash around their necks. To ensure a clean shot, through one head and the next.

Kayla maneuvered around until she faced Elsie’s body. Held in place more by blood than glue, the pink square barely did its job of covering the wound. Her determination wavered, then she thought about what Elsie had done to Jillian and her reason for killing Vicky.

She ripped off the sticky note.

79

Through the lens of his rifle’s scope, Mason Wade watched Special Agent Blackwell’s hands remain at his side while Kayla plucked the notes from the two bitches’ heads.

Relief poured through him, and he released a heavy breath.

If Blackwell had intended to play it by the book, he would never have allowed Kayla to tamper with crime scene evidence.

Mason experienced a twinge of guilt at Kayla being exposed to the brutal deaths of two women who’d played an important role in her life, but elimination had been the only option. The actions of a couple of rogue actors shouldn’t be allowed to take down an important organization like HCVS.

With Elsie and Sybil out of the picture, Kayla, Jillian, and other Service members could continue moving the world in a more positive direction. One where his daughter could be anyone she wanted, including the president of the United States.

Thankfully, stick-in-the-mud Blackwell hadn’t screwed up his plan.

Thoughts of Jozi made his eyes burn. From the age of eleven years old, when she met her hero, Jane Goodall, she’d been working hard to prepare herself for entrance into Duke. And his little girl had done it. Last month, she’d received her admittance letter from the university. Now Mason had to figure out how to pay for it. Tuition was fucking expensive.

Which had aided in his decision to take on the contract to assassinate the governor. But mostly, he’d wanted to protect Kayla. Make sure she didn’t get caught in the crosshairs of an unknown shooter who wasn’t bothered by human collateral damage.

In the end, he hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. Not because he had any moral issues with killing such a high-ranking public figure. Politicians were like cockroaches. Smash one and another would crawl over its carcass to feast on the available power, licking its feet on the other side.

No, the reason he hadn’t been able to follow through was the joy he’d witnessed on Kayla’s face when she strolled into the gazebo. He understood the pain of watching someone you cared about die before your eyes. Had witnessed it more than once on the battlefield. Had watched his wife, Naomi, struggle to survive for days in the hospital before she finally succumbed to her injuries. He’d refused to put Kayla through that kind of mental torture.

But Sybil had had a backup plan. A brilliant one, as it turned out. Who the hell took a serial killer with a signature to an assassination? Someone establishing a masterful decoy, that’s who.

He hadn’t known about Grimball’s jewelry fetish the night of the fundraiser. All he’d been focused on was preventing the assassin from taking the second shot, the one intended for Kayla. If Grimball’s weapon hadn’t jammed, giving Mason time to locate the convict and smash his face before the bastard slipped his grasp but not before his knife slashed across Mason’s forearm, the night would’ve had an even deadlier ending.

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