Fear For Me: A Novel of the Bayou Butcher(94)

“Yes,” Anthony gritted.

“I showed Jenny just how strong I was. In the end,” Greg’s voice whispered, sliding through the night. “She knew.”

She knew you were a f*cking killer.

“But the DA didn’t know,” Greg said, his mouth brushing over Lauren’s cheek. “I was beside you, Lauren, for so many days—and you never knew.” Rough laughter. “It felt so good to be that close, and now…now you’ll finally see what I can do.”

“No!” Anthony shouted back at him. He huffed out a hard breath. “I’ll drop my gun, if you let her go.”

Even in the darkness, he could see Greg shake his head. “It was supposed to be so easy. I had it all planned. Hawthorne was the killer, it was him.”

“Hawthorne’s still alive, and he’s going to tell the world what you did.” Maybe. The guy hadn’t exactly been showing a whole lot of life thanks to the f*cking bullet in the head.

Another frantic shake of Greg’s head. “He shot himself! He shot—”

“He’s left-handed.” Anthony took a slow, gliding step toward Greg and Lauren. He hated the smell of her blood. Hated her pain and fear. “That was a stupid mistake for someone like you to make.”

“Left-handed?”

“Yeah, if he’d wanted to blow out his own brains, I think he would have used his dominant hand, don’t you?”

Rage twisted Greg’s face. “Voyt was coming! I heard his motorcycle! I had to hurry—”

Another gliding step forward. “You panicked and screwed up. There’s no escaping now. No pinning the crimes on someone else.”

The night was thick with fury, but eerily silent. So silent.

Greg was clinging tightly to Lauren, backing her up even more, moving them toward the rickety dock. Toward the boat that waited there.

Just like Walker. Greg thought he’d get away on the boat. But then, Greg had admitted he’d taught Walker everything.

Including how to escape.

“You let me get on the boat,” Greg spoke feverishly. “When I’m clear, I’ll let her go.”

“No, he won’t! He’ll…kill…me!” Lauren gasped the words out against his hold.

Anthony didn’t buy for a minute that Greg would just let Lauren walk away from this night.

“You aren’t getting her on that boat.” He couldn’t let it happen. If Greg got Lauren on that boat, she was dead.

Greg was just a few feet from it.

“There’s no escape for you,” Anthony told him. “Not this time.”

“What are you gonna do?” Greg taunted. “Shoot me? Shoot her? You’re the hero. The hero doesn’t get to shoot the victim!”

The hero didn’t let the woman he loved die.

“I won’t be shooting the victim.” Anthony’s voice was calm and certain.

Then it happened. The moment he’d been waiting for, praying for. Greg stumbled on the dock, on a loose piece of wood, and his grip on Lauren slackened. Lauren lunged away.

Anthony fired. The bullet slammed into Greg’s chest. The ME stumbled back. He hit the edge of the rickety dock, and tumbled into the water.

Anthony jumped forward and grabbed Lauren. “Baby, are you okay?” His fingers rose, checking the wound on her throat.

She gave a weak nod. “Anthony…”

She’d just scared twenty years of his life way.

The wound on her neck was still bleeding, but it wasn’t too deep, thank Christ. He pulled her against his chest. Held her tight.

Then he heard the rustle of water. Anthony immediately hauled Lauren behind him, shielding her with his body. But the rustle hadn’t come from Greg. It had come from a gator sliding from the bank and sinking beneath the water.

“Where is he?” Lauren asked, her fingers tight on Anthony’s arm. “Where is he?”

Anthony flashed his light across the area. The surface of the water was black. The gator had vanished, and there was barely even a ripple of movement in that water.

“I hit him.” He knew he had. He’d heard the thud of impact. “But I don’t think I killed him.”

His hold tightened on his weapon.

You have to come up for air sometime, bastard. The guy would come up for air, and he’d try to go for his boat. His escape.

There would be no more escapes.

Anthony gave Lauren his flashlight. He kept one hand on her, and the other stayed securely around his weapon. He slid back one step, and another, wanting to get her off the dock.

The dock.

Greg would have needed to come up for a gasp of breath by then. If you want air, without anyone seeing you take it, you go under the damn dock to get it.

Anthony stilled. He aimed his gun at the small gaps between the slats of wood of the dock. He waited…waited…

“Anthony?” Lauren asked quietly, fear roughening her voice.

He saw a glint of light below. A glint that would come from the knife Greg had held. Kept your weapon, huh? That’s not gonna help you.

He fired even as he pushed Lauren back. Once, twice, he fired his weapon, wanting to make Greg move, wanting to draw the bastard out so he could finish him.

But nothing happened. No jostling of water. No cries of pain.

Silence.