Page 114 of Last Shot

Pow.

Pow.

She felt the last shot right by her ear as more glass rained over her.

She had a clear shot. All she had to do was pull the trigger.

But all she could see was Evan’s face. The shattered glass raining down on her was still framing Jackie as she bled out over the coffee table. Evan was yelling. Evan was smiling. Evan slammed Max’s head against the countertop.

Evan was in a suit, answering the lawyer’s questions. Calmly, jovially. The jury were smiling, nodding, understanding.

Evan holding a knife. Evan not holding a knife.

Max had shot him in cold blood. She’d meant to kill him. That last shot had ended her career, her life as she knew it.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t pull the trigger.

She dropped down to her knees, letting the dart gun fall to the ground as the two men reached the bottom of the stairs. It was over ...

No!Her stinging, bleeding fingers found the leather of the watch. She traced up, one last time, and grabbed the lever.

She couldn’t remember how it happened, only that she leant her entire weight onto the wooden handle below Emilio’s cabinet and the next moment she’d tumbled into an open crevasse.

‘Don’t kill her, you idiot!’

Everything was dark. The cabinet had clicked shut. The air smelled wet and like cork.

‘Where the fuck did she go?’

‘She was right there. She was right there! Turn the lights back on!’

The voices of the gunmen were so distant it was like there were five brick walls between them.

Don’t kill her?

‘You foolish girl. Why didn’t you shoot them?’

That voice, however, was right by her ear.

‘Vittoria?’

37

Grey

Grey knew about this passageway from the blueprints he’d studied. He knew the tunnels and dips and secret veins of the property like a skilled surgeon knew every major artery. But he’d never been inside this one.

The wine-case tunnel ran longer than the others, its cool grey stone illuminated by the blueish light of Ariana’s phone. Despite the fact that her boyfriend had likely been blown to pieces, the girl hadn’t fought too hard against Grey as he’d pulled her down the passage after Frankie lifted the lever.

Grey was grateful Frankie had been able to keep her head. He’d kept some of his too – leaving the watch Luca gave him just below the entrance to the tunnel. Max would find it, if she was stupid enough to run back to them. Which she wouldn’t, after what he’d said. He’d protected her, he supposed, and he was grateful Forrest had provided her with an excuse to run.

Grey knew she’d be smart enough to leave Forrest and get herself out. Her police training would equip her to know what to look out for, like trip wires. She was the one who’d spotted the backpack, after all. None of them would be alive right now if it wasn’t for her.

And now she was gone.

Safe, he corrected. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to come back after what he’d told her. That’s all he knew. So now he could focus on his true duty.

Grey kept to the back of the group, hand around his pistol, turning every step to check they hadn’t been followed. The cold darkness of the tunnel eventually morphed into a peachy, dull light that was flickering slightly. Grey walked backwards the rest of the way, pistol raised. When he turned, they were in a large room he’d never seen before – it definitely wasn’t labelled on the plans, but a lot of Emilio’s secrets weren’t. A wine cabinet stretched along the eastern wall and a king-sized four-poster bed without the curtains was the main feature. The covers had been stripped and there were four people sitting on it.

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