Page 81 of High Velocity

When he barks out a harsh laugh, I whip my head around. The man I see is no one I recognize.

“Evidence can be manipulated. It’s not that hard. I learned that from the best.” A grin spreads on his face as he leans forward a few inches before adding, “Your father taught me.”

He’s toying with me. He knows how I’ve always tried to live up to my dad’s expectations. This is what psychopaths do, they use little bits of information they’ve been given to play games with their victims.

But I’ll be damned if I become his next one.

He seems startled for a brief moment when I swing around, my fingers steady around the butt of Laine’s gun and my finger ready on the trigger. The moment I have him lined up in my sights I depress.

I’m not prepared for the hollow sound of an empty magazine, and my lungs deflate.

Slowly, the man I once shared a bed with raises his weapon.

In a single moment, all that could have been, the life I could’ve led, the man I could’ve loved, the family I could’ve had, flashes with painful clarity in my mind.

Then I close my eyes and wait for the end.

Twenty-Six

Jackson

My training dictates I keep my eyes fixed on my target through the scope, until I’m one-hundred-percent sure I’ve completed my objective and the threat is eliminated.

But I saw the man’s head explode as the impact of my high velocity round felled him like a tree, so I doubt he’ll be getting up ever again, and I didn’t see anyone else moving inside.

Screw training.

I scramble down from the branch I was perched on, nearly falling the twenty feet or so I’m up off the ground, but I make it down in one piece. I would’ve made an easy target, but since no one took potshots at me, I assume the threat was eliminated with Vallard.

Growling in frustration, I realize I’m going to have to strap on my limb if I want to get to Stephanie fast. I was so focused on Vallard, I lost track of where she was. I keep my eye on the trailer, hoping to catch a glimpse of her but instead I see Jonas barreling around the corner, a gun in his hand and yelling at Ma—who is hot on his tail—to stay the hell back.

Needless to say, she’s not listening. The moment she spots me she comes running for me, and I barely have the socket fitted over my sleeve when she almost tackles me.

“Oh my God, I was so scared. Are you okay? And Stephanie?”

Up ahead, Jonas is already ducking into the front door of the trailer, leading with his gun. His training shows too. I untangle myself from my mother’s arms and hurry after him.

“Stay back until we know it’s secure, Ma,” I call back over my shoulder.

When I step through the door, the first thing I see is Jonas, kicking away the gun lying inches from Vallard’s prone body. But my focus is to his right, where I saw Stephanie through my scope. She’s not sitting up now, but is slumped over, the upper half of her body draped over who I presume is Mitchel Laine.

Fear for what I might find does not stop me from rushing to her side and brushing away the hair covering her face. Her eyes are closed, but when I press my shaking fingers against her carotid artery, I find a pulse and a sob of relief escapes me. But there’s so much blood, it’s hard to know where it’s all coming from.

When I carefully roll her off the body and on her back, I sense more than see Jonas crouch down on the other side of Laine’s body, but I’m focused on Stephanie.

“What’ve you got?” he asks.

“Shoulder wound. Can’t find anything else, but she’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Out of my way,” Ma snaps, appearing out of nowhere. “Move,” she urges, unceremoniously shoving me aside as she crouches down beside Stephanie.

She immediately starts ripping at Stephanie’s shirt, exposing a nasty looking wound in her shoulder.

“Help me roll her,” she orders.

When we have her on her side, Ma quickly examines her back, before motioning for me to roll her back.

“No exit wound. The bullet’s still in there. We need to get her to the hospital ASAP.” She tugs at my shirt. “Take this off, I need it to apply pressure to the wound.”

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