Page 65 of Dirty Liars

“He saw a vulnerable kid he could manipulate,” I said, each word scraping my raw throat. “Do you think you’re the first soldier he’s sent to die for him?”

“Shut up!” he roared, drawing a pistol from the back of his waistband. He pressed the barrel against my forehead, the metal cold against my skin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I was scared spitless. But I had nothing to lose. I could see death in his eyes. “I know the New Dawn compound has moved,” I pressed on, feeling the gun tremble against my skull. “I know Paul left the country after the FBI started closing in. He abandoned his followers, Emmett. He abandoned you.”

Fury blazed in his eyes. “You’re lying!”

“He’s on his island somewhere, safe and comfortable, while you’re here doing his dirty work. When was the last time you actually spoke to him? Not to Josef, not to some intermediary. To Paul himself?”

Doubt crept across his face, just for an instant. Then it hardened into resolve.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice flat again. “Orders are orders.”

The gun pressed harder against my forehead, and I closed my eyes, thinking of Jack, of our baby, of all the things I would never see.

And then the gates of hell opened up and all I could do was pray for mercy.

“Drop the weapon! Police!”

The shouts echoed through the warehouse, followed by the crash of doors being breached. Red laser sights danced across Emmett’s chest as officers swarmed in from multiple entrances, weapons drawn.

“Drop it now! Hands in the air!”

For a terrible moment, I thought he might pull the trigger anyway. His finger twitched on the guard. Then, with mechanical precision, he set the gun on the floor and raised his hands above his head.

“On your knees! Hands behind your head!”

Emmett complied, his face a blank mask as officers tackled him to the ground, securing his wrists with handcuffs. More police flooded into the warehouse, checking corners, clearing the space.

And then Jack was there, rushing to my side, his face a storm of relief and anguish.

“Jaye,” he breathed, kneeling in front of me. His hands trembled as he cut through the zip ties. “Are you hurt? Oh, God. Look at you.”

“I think I’m okay,” I whispered, falling forward into his arms as my restraints gave way. “How did you find me?”

“Your watch,” he said, holding me like he’d never let go. “Doug tracked your heart rate spike and location. They’d left your phone at the funeral home, but didn’t see your watch. We already had Josef in custody—caught him trying to set a fire at the community center. We had your approximate location, but we wouldn’t have made it in time if we’d had to search all these warehouses. Josef gave up Emmett’s location in exchange for consideration.”

Relief washed over me in a dizzying wave. It was over. We were safe.

Over Jack’s shoulder, I watched as officers led Emmett away. He walked with his head high, that empty smile playing at his lips. As he reached the door, he turned to look at me one last time.

“He’ll find you,” he called, his voice ringing with certainty. “Paul never forgets his children.”

Jack’s arms tightened around me. “We’ve got them both now. The FBI is taking over the New Dawn case. They’ll find Prather. And those two killers are off the streets.”

The adrenaline that had kept me going suddenly drained away, leaving me hollow and trembling. The room began to spin, darkness creeping in from the edges of my vision.

“Jack,” I mumbled, my voice sounding far away even to my own ears. “I don’t feel…”

The last thing I heard was Jack calling my name, his voice tight with fear as I slipped into darkness once more.

EPILOGUE

The rhythmic beepingof monitors pulled me from the darkness, each electronic pulse drawing me closer to consciousness. White ceiling tiles swam into focus, and the antiseptic smell of hospital disinfectant filled my nostrils. My body felt weighted, limbs heavy against crisp sheets.

I turned my head and found Jack exactly where I knew he’d be—in the chair beside my bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his head bowed. His fingers were loosely entwined as if he’d been praying. Maybe he had been.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” I said, my voice hoarse and unfamiliar to my own ears.

---