Page 141 of The Third Grave (Savannah 4)

Ashley Jefferson stood in the doorway, backlit by the eerie light from a lantern when a squeal erupted from the porch near the chimney stack. A male in agony, yelling and screaming, “Ash! Shoot her! Shoot her!”

Nikki!

He was too late! Though Reed hadn’t noticed her vehicle. She was here. And in trouble.

Weapon drawn, he sprinted toward the lodge, running between the parked cars, and was about to announce himself when he heard Delacroix’s voice ordering Tyson Beaumont to stand down.

So she was here?

A shot rang out.

His body jolted.

His gun flew from his hand.

Hot pain scorched his shoulder.

Thud! His head bounced off the passenger door of Ashley Jefferson’s Bentley.

White light flashed behind his eyes.

Intense pain blasted through his brain.

He blinked. Trying to grasp on to consciousness. Aware of blood flowing from his arm and the stars in the night sky above him appearing to circle and spin.

A second later, the blackness prevailed.

* * *

Another shot.

A bullet zinged past Nikki’s head.

Too close!

How?

Where had the blast come from?

Tyson? Ashley?

Or her husband?

God, where was Reed?

But a woman’s voice had rung out, demanding Tyson drop his weapon. Delacroix? But why was she here? How did she know? Had Reed contacted her?

It doesn’t matter. Just run!!!

Frantic, Nikki raced deep into the woods, trying to get some distance from the lodge. Despite being injured, Tyson was still equipped with night goggles, could follow her tracks. She ran wildly, dashing and darting, stubbing her toes, thrashing through the undergrowth that tried to trip her. She couldn’t fall. Wouldn’t make it easy for him!

“Ty?” Ashley screamed from somewhere near the lodge. “Where are you . . . Oh, Jesus!” She’d reached him, Nikki assumed, but she didn’t look over her shoulder, just ran. Fast. Cobwebs and branches slapping her, brush tangling her legs.

Blam! Blam! Blam!

The blasts thundered as he shot wildly, bullets zipping all around Nikki, striking and splintering wood from saplings too close for comfort.

For a split second she wondered about Reed.

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