She nodded, reading his intent. As he ran toward their attacker, she fired off three shots, engaging the shooter.
Ryker was almost to the shooter when the guy took off, running toward the harbor service buildings. She moved from behind the vehicle, following Ryker across the lot. They met up at the corner of one of the buildings. There was a six-foot space between the structures, and they moved down the alleyway, guns drawn, searching for the shooter. It was only when they got to the end that they realized they were trapped by a ten-foot-high chain-link fence.
Whirling around, they started back when one of the building doors flew open.
They instinctively dodged behind the nearest dumpster.
"Come on. This way," a man said, waving at them.
The voice was familiar, frighteningly familiar. She met Ryker's gaze, saw the shocked look in his eyes. He moved around the dumpster, and so did she, wondering if the face would match the voice.
Chapter Nineteen
Her heart stopped.It was Paul, dressed all in black.
"Hurry," Paul said tersely. "We don't have much time."
"You're alive?" Ryker asked, echoing the words running through her head.
Paul stepped into the light, and there was no doubt that it was him.
She sucked in a quick breath.What the hell was going on?
"I'll tell you everything," Paul said. "But you have to come now."
Before they could take a step, a shot rang out and Paul fell forward.
Ryker shoved her back behind the dumpster as he took a shot at the figure on the adjacent roof. The guy took off running. And Ryker once again did the same.
She rushed toward Paul, as Ryker sprinted down the alley. She heard sirens in the distance. Someone must have reported the gunshots.
Falling to her knees, she saw blood gushing from Paul's neck. She pulled off her sweater and pressed it against his neck, praying the bullet hadn't hit his carotid artery.
"Sorry," he gasped, his eyes wide and shocked. "Tell Abby."
"You'll tell her yourself," she said fiercely. "You have to hang on, Paul." She pulled out her phone and called 911, reporting their location and the need for an ambulance. She also let the dispatcher know that she was an FBI agent.
"Make sure Abby knows—did it for her and Tyler—better for them."
"You being dead is not better for them. You have to stay with me."
Hearing pounding footsteps, she lifted her head, hoping the shooter had not returned. Thankfully, it was Ryker.
"I lost him," he said, anger in his voice.
"Help is on the way."
Ryker's gaze moved to Paul. "Who shot you, Paul? Who's after me—us?"
"Supposed to—scare you," Paul stuttered. "Not hurt you. Couldn't let them hurt you. Didn't know. Sorry."
"Didn't know what? What's going on?" Ryker asked.
"You're good. Better than everyone else," Paul said, his eyes dazed. "Wouldn't have fallen for the lie."
She wanted Paul to tell them everything, but she also wanted him to stop talking, because he needed to hang on to his strength. If he could survive this, he could go back to Abby. Abby could have her husband back. Tyler could have his father back.
Paul's eyelids started to flutter. "No," she said forcefully. "Fight, Paul. Do it for Abby and for Tyler. They can't bury you again."