trying to keep under wraps. Fortunately for him, we keep him well supplied, so he’ll say whatever we want him to say.”
Blake knew he couldn’t reach his gun before Mason fired. He had to think of another way out of this car and he had to do it fast.
“Did you really believe you could come to my town and deceive everyone?” Mason’s tone held bitterness and betrayal, as if Blake’s deception had been directed only toward him.
Blake slid his hand behind him and felt for the door handle. The situation was bad and he had to find a way out of it. He’d already been ambushed by this maniac and Holly was next. He also needed to let Matt and the DEA know his cover had been blown before the drug ring shut down and covered its tracks.
But as Mason rattled on about his betrayal of their trust, Blake’s own anger burned. What did Mason Webber know about betrayal? He hadn’t had his heart ripped out by someone he loved. He hadn’t had to deal with knowing his fiancée was responsible for placing those he cared about in danger and nearly getting his best friend shot to death. But this wasn’t the time for that discussion. He wouldn’t wish that kind of betrayal on his worst enemy—not even Mason.
“And what about her?” Blake asked. “I’ve never met her before in my life. How are you going to explain that?”
“Won’t be too hard to make it look like you two were together. Just another obsessed cop taking out his frustrations on his girl. They’ll probably make us all take more domestic violence seminars again because of it and the department will suffer some bad press—but we’ll get through it.”
So he had it all planned out. And if the coroner was in fact dirty, as Mason claimed, no one in this town would question their deaths. But Matt and the other Rangers would. They knew him too well to believe such a crazy concoction.
“Killing me would be a mistake,” Blake warned him. “You have powerful friends, but so do I. They’ll swarm this town and take you all down.”
Mason took only a moment to ponder that statement before he braced his arm, a sign Blake knew meant he was about to fire. In one swift move, Blake reached for his gun and pushed open the door, tumbling backward and rolling from the car as Mason fired twice. Blake felt the whiz of one bullet pass inches from his head while the other bit into his side as he tumbled. He hit the pavement, jamming his shoulder. He immediately rolled beneath the car as Mason jumped out the driver’s door and ran around to find him. When he did, Blake slid out the other side and hightailed it through the lot, staying low to use the cars as cover.
Mason swore then started searching for him, calling out his name. “Come out, come out, Blakey. I’ll find you sooner or later.”
Blake stopped and leaned against a car, his breathing labored and perspiration rolling off him. His shoulder ached but that wasn’t his most pressing concern. He touched his stomach and his hand came back bloody. He was hurt and he was leaving a blood trail behind him for Mason to follow. He had to get to his car, get as far away from Mason as possible and figure this all out. If Mason was to be believed, he was now being hunted by both the police and a powerful drug ring.
Lord, don’t forsake me now.
He adjusted the grip of his gun. If he was going down, he would go down fighting.
“You can’t get away,” Mason called to him. “I know I hit you. You’re bleeding bad. And soon you’ll have the entire police force hunting you. You won’t make it out of this town alive.”
Blake sucked in a breath and took off, again staying low so Mason wouldn’t see him. After a few minutes, he stopped to catch his breath one more time. He leaned against a Prius and listened for Mason’s footsteps. He was shocked to realize they were heading away from him instead of toward him.
He peeked around the front of the car and saw Mason moving through the parking lot—just as he’d suspected—away from him.
He glanced in the direction Mason was headed. Holly was approaching her car and Mason was moving to intercept her.
A rush of panic shot through him.
Mason had left him and was going after the girl.
He clutched his gun and forced himself to his feet, new energy pulsing through him. He couldn’t...he wouldn’t...let Mason kill her.
* * *
Holly Mathis rubbed her shoulder, trying to work out the kinks in her muscles. The sounds of the construction by the employee’s entrance hurt her head. Why did they have to make so much noise? She couldn’t even hear herself think. It had been another long night at the hospital and she was looking forward to a hot bath and then crawling into bed. She was tired, but at least it helped keep her mind free from the worry that had occupied her thoughts recently. If she gave herself time to focus on what she’d found and its implications, she might drive herself crazy.
Why didn’t you tell me, Jimmy?
Her husband’s death twelve months ago had left her life shattered and in confusion, but slowly, surely, she’d begun to live again...until two days ago when she’d been cleaning out the closet and discovered the hidden compartment and the leather-bound journal inside. What was written there had rocked her world and sent her reeling back into that place where thoughts of Jimmy occupied her every thought.
Had he died in the line of duty as his partner had claimed? She was beginning to question it. Her first instinct upon finding the journal had been to take it to Jimmy’s chief, but something had stopped her, some invisible hand—Jimmy’s? God’s?—on her soul had warned her to be cautious with what she shared.
Instead she’d photocopied a few pages that highlighted Mason’s wrongdoings and showed them to the chief. He’d been interested, pressing her to bring in the rest of the book, and Holly thought he’d seemed agitated even as he was trying to appear calm. But she’d seen sweat on his brow. He’d been unsettled about Jimmy’s findings, but what police chief wouldn’t be shaken after seeing evidence indicating he had a dirty cop on his force?
And Mason’s numerous visits made sense now, too. He’d become increasingly obsessed with her since Jimmy’s death. His constant calls and visits at the hospital and her home had bordered on harassment. She’d thought several times about filing a complaint with Chief Waggoner, but had hoped the problem would go away on its own and Mason would find someone else to focus his attention on.
Her attempts to appease Mason hadn’t worked and she knew why. He hadn’t really been obsessed with her. He’d been looking for information about what she knew of her husband’s investigation. Well, Mason needn’t have worried. Jimmy had kept his suspicions all to himself and hadn’t told her anything about corruption on the force. He’d seemed anxious and stressed in the last few weeks of his life, but he hadn’t given her any clue as to why when she’d questioned him about his behavior.
She’d been ready to turn the journal over to Chief Waggoner until yesterday when she’d arrived home to find her house had been broken into and trashed. It had been obvious that whoever had broken in had been searching for something—Jimmy’s journal she’d assumed—but when she’d checked the secret hiding spot, it had still been there. They hadn’t found it. The break-in couldn’t have been a coincidence, which left her wondering how Mason had found out about the journal in the first place.
What do I do now?
She didn’t know who she was talking to—Jimmy?
