Finding Her Son(64)

“Be smart,” Dane said. “Come out alive.”

“Get your butt here and make sure she gets out of this. You worry about Emily, Dane. Promise me. I don’t matter,” Mitch said.

“We’re getting you both out,” Dane snapped. “I’m almost there.”

Mitch let out a quick breath. Focus, man. She needs you. You love her.

And he hadn’t told her. He’d wanted everything perfect. He’d wanted to be whole. He’d wanted to find her son and have SWAT back. He should’ve just said the words. He loved her more than the job he’d thought he couldn’t live without. If he got another chance—when he got a second chance—he wouldn’t wait.

Mitch drew his weapon, eased toward the open hangar door and peeked in. His blood went cold.

Emily, standing in front of the open limo door, tears running down her face, rocked a screaming baby in her arms.

William, blood dripping down his arm, held a pistol aimed at Joshua’s head. “Give me the kid or I’ll shoot through him to get to you. You know I’ll do it. I’d prefer him alive, Emily, but I can fabricate a reason why he didn’t make it. Either way, I win. The choice is yours. Do you want your son to live or die?”

Mitch slipped inside the door and into position behind a metal bin and three huge barrels that blocked William’s view. Moving silently, Mitch crouched down and leaned out farther. He focused on Emily, hoping she would glance his way.

As if she could sense him, she turned her head slightly. Their gazes locked, and he recognized the flash of understanding. She shifted her body slightly, drawing William’s attention in the opposite direction. Man, he loved an incredibly brave woman.

Mitch’s earpiece clicked once, and some of his tension eased. Dane had arrived. Emily hugged the baby tighter. “Why are you doing this, William? I don’t understand. You helped me look for Joshua.”

“I thought the boy was dead. What harm could it do to pay a washed-up drunk like Perry to search for clues and keep you busy? But the kid was alive, and that idiot Mangino’s sister adopted him. Too many loose ends tying back to me.”

“And a ton of dead bodies all over your property doesn’t lead to you?” Emily asked incredulously.

“After today, I’ll help the police wrap the entire case up in a nice bow. According to the paper trail and forensic evidence I planted, my father hired Mangino. He had Eric killed because my brother threatened to expose the company’s money laundering. He murdered Joshua’s parents because of the connection to Frank. All perfectly true. Except I’ve got more guts than my father ever did. I did what I had to do.”

“You killed your own father,” she said, still unable to fathom William’s callousness.

“No, Emily. You discovered my father planned to kill the baby next, so you had to protect your son. You grabbed a gun and killed my father, but not before he fatally wounded you. And I, the poor grieving son, rescued my nephew. I’ll end up on CNN. Business will thrive. And Joshua will save my reputation and follow in the family business.”

“You’re sick.”

William’s face went cold. He took a step forward. “And we’re done. Goodbye, Emily.”

She shoved the baby into the car. A bullet slammed into the metal beside her head. She whirled around to face William and swung the diaper bag at him, connecting with his gun arm. Most of the bag’s contents scattered.

“Mitch, save Joshua!” She swung the bag again, aiming for William’s head, hoping the heavy box of diaper wipes would stun him or at least slow him down.

William stumbled backward, roared in anger and aimed directly at her. His trigger finger squeezed just as Mitch dove in front of her.

A gun sounded. Another shot rang out from behind William. Emily closed her eyes, expecting to feel pain.

She didn’t. The baby’s howls mixed with shouts from inside the limo.

“Mitch!” A deep voice yelled.

Emily opened her eyes to the horrific sight of William slumped to the cement, the entire left side of his head gone. She scrambled to her feet, torn between running to the baby or Mitch. Then, as she watched, he stumbled to his knees in front of her, his chest soaked in crimson.

“No!” Emily fell to the ground and pressed her hand against Mitch’s wound. Blood flowed through her fingers. “No, Mitch. Don’t do this.”

“Calm down, Emily,” he rasped between clenched teeth, quirking a smile. “It’s a flesh wound. No big deal.”

“Don’t scare me like that, Mitch Bradford,” she said. “Ever again.”

“I bet you say that to all the guys who stop a speeding bullet for you, you sweet-talker, you.”

Footsteps pounded at them. She turned. “Dane, thank goodness. He’s been shot.”

Mitch’s boss ripped off his shirt, revealing a side laced with scars. He knelt next to Mitch and pressed the fabric against the wound. “You’re a magnet for trouble, aren’t you, Bradford? You’re never going to get back to SWAT at this rate.”

“Being a detective must be growing on me, Tanner.” Mitch coughed, then cursed viciously. He looked at Emily, his smile calm. “Why don’t you go check on your son. I’m fine.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” She bit her lip, staring at the shirt soaked through with blood.