Page 21 of End Game

What if the shooter had been waiting for her to return home, and Ash had found them.

Another spiral, another direction, another new hell.

“No one will take care of you, but you, Kayla Krowne.” She marched into the depths of her closet, depressed the upper lefthand corner of the tall cabinet, and entered a six-digit passcode. The lock disengaged, and she pulled open the narrow steel door.

Inside the ten-by-ten safe room hung a specially made Kevlar vest with an attached cross-draw pistol holster. She threaded her head and arms into the vest, secured it, then reached for her Glock 43X. Checked the chamber and clip before securing the weapon in her holster.

Every fourth Sunday afternoon for the past five years, she’d gone to the range to train, something Liv had introduced her to after a mugging Kayla survived in Raleigh. A mugging that had left her with a fractured rib.

At the time she’d bought it, she’d thought the body armor was a bit much. But now, she took comfort in its solid weight against her chest and the pistol helped bolster her natural confidence. Something she needed desperately at the moment.

Drawing in a fortifying breath, she fast-walked to her bedroom door, unlocked it, and stepped into the hallway, listening for any signs of Ash.

Something belowstairs clattered, then went silent.

“Ash,” she whispered, her heart galloping in her chest.

An image of him bleeding out on her tile floor burrowed into her mind and, before she knew it, she’d flattened herself against the wall and drawn her handgun. She slid along the wall until she reached the wide staircase. With sloth-like slowness, she eased forward until the first level came into view.

Everything seemed normal. No slinking shadows, no grip of shoe soles against marble tile, no sound of hand-to-hand combat. No crackle of gunfire.

One slow step at a time, she descended the stairs and focused all of her senses outward, scanning her surroundings for the unfamiliar.

She made it all the way to the spacious entryway without dying. Now she had a decision to make—left or right? Left took her to the rooms where she entertained guests and cemented multimillion-dollar promises. Where she was Kayla Krowne, results-driven lobbyist.

The right led to the kitchen. A room that had witnessed catastrophic culinary attempts and masterpieces in equal measure, depending on whether she’d followed a recipe or leaned into her non-award-winning tastebuds and eye-measuring ability.

Mentally tossing a coin in the air, she took the hallway to the right of the stairs.

With the same precision of movement, she inched her way toward the kitchen, keeping her ears alert for any bit of sound that might give away the intruder’s or Ash’s location.

As she passed the downstairs bathroom, she caught a movement out of her peripheral vision. She swung her pistol around, then choked back a gasp when she nearly put a bullet through her reflection in the mirror above the sink.

Lowering her weapon, she released a shaky breath. She didn’t have a chance to feel the full relief of her near mishap.

Something hard and unforgiving slammed into the side of her head. Pain splintered her thoughts and her knees weakened. A blurry image of her attacker’s imposing silhouette filled the mirror, then . . . lights out.

Again.

9

Kayla’s rise to awareness came slowly, painfully.

Her head throbbed as if someone had squeezed her brain like a therapy gel ball, while prying her eyes from their sockets. With an ice pick.

A sixth sense cautioned her to remain still. To force her bruised mind to go back in time. To remember . . .

The images came fast and violent.

The gazebo, the dark hole in Vicky’s forehead, Detective Morgan’s questions, Ash’s concern for her, feelings of helplessness, her search for Ash.

Excruciating pain.

Kayla’s heart smashed into her ribcage before retreating into a quivering ball. Was her intruder the same person who’d killed Vicky and presumably meant to kill her? If so, why was she still alive?

Or was she that unlucky—to be shot at and assaulted by two different people in the same evening?

Ash. Oh my God, where was Ash?

---