Page 71 of Bulletproof Jack: Hunting Lee Child's Jack Reacher

“You think so?”

“I know so. Brax needs me. He doesn’t need you. Women like you are everywhere,” Krause shrugged. “Where’s he gonna get another prize-winning genius to develop his weapons and keep his secrets, eh?”

Audrey ignored his sloppy insults. She had no insecurities of any kind. She couldn’t be baited. Better men than Ira Krause had tried.

“Seems he’s already found another genius. You should know. You trained Liam Stuart. When the student became the master, you stomped off like a child,” Audrey sneered, her pistol aimed directly at his chest. “But Brax never came after you. Never begged you to come back. Never gave you a second thought. He’s got Liam Stuart now. He doesn’t need you anymore.”

Her words infuriated him because they were true and he knew it.

He was at least ten feet across the room.

He lowered his hands and charged toward her, snorting like a raging bull.

She didn’t move so much as an eyelash.

He took two steps forward before he realized she would never yield.

But he was already committed. She could see the brief indecision in his gaze.

“Stop, Krause, while you still can.”

Bullheaded pride won his internal debate. He took another step forward.

Audrey steadied her pistol and shot him straight and true.

Twice.

Krause fell backward near the bed. He slid down to a seated position, head against the mattress, dead eyes wide open, arms flopping at his sides.

Another loud thunderclap punctuated the death.

Krause’s sloppy carcass triggered Audrey’s autonomous nervous system. Her mind returned to the present. She blinked hard.

“That was stupid, Mr. Genius,” she said aloud as if Krause could hear her. “Bet you’re not all that pleased with yourself now, are you?”

She wasn’t too thrilled about the situation, either. Not for the same reasons.

Krause had jumped on her gun before she’d acquired the intel she came for and before she could interrogate him about Stuart.

She’d driven all the way out here and had nothing to show for it. Brax would not be pleased.

Now what? Search the house?

Before she had a chance to execute any kind of search, a brief lull in the storm allowed her to hear the unmistakable sound of tires on gravel.

A vehicle out front. Approaching the house. No question.

She scanned the room quickly one last time, gaze resting on Krause’s phone.

Stuart called me, Krause had said.He’s coming here. On his way.

The call was a slim lead, to be sure. But it was better than nothing.

She stepped carefully to the side of the bed, leaned over, and snagged Krause’s phone. Then she retrieved his gun and placed it near his shooting hand.

Any good cop would realize Krause hadn’t fired the weapon. But the chances of getting a great cop out here in the storm at this hour were fifty-fifty. Night shift cops in a sleepy burg like this weren’t likely to be the sharpest knives in the drawer. Staging the scene might buy a bit more time.

One last glance around the room. She’d done all she could. They might not search the bedroom first if they couldn’t see the body through the open doorway. She closed the bedroom door, adding another few seconds’ delay.

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