Almost Dead (Lizzy Gardner #5)(90)

Lizzy shot a look at Shelby, used her chin to gesture. Now.

Shelby picked up both feet and slammed them hard into the backs of his legs, sending the big man sprawling toward Lizzy.

She ripped the Velcro from the lining of the bra Kitally had given her, grabbed the thin metal shank Kitally had fashioned in her warehouse cell, and jammed it into the side of his neck.

The gun dropped from his hand.

He fell to the floor, blood spurting from his neck.

Lizzy dropped to the ground, scrambled around on her hands and knees, looking for the gun. It was under the bed. As she reached for it, Lyle turned, managed to grab hold of her arm and twist hard.

Lizzy shrieked in pain.

Shelby raised both legs again and drove her heels into the man’s face, busting his nose wide-open.

He let go of Lizzy’s arm. Blood was spraying everywhere now.

Lizzy stretched out for the gun, but it was just out of reach. As she struggled to close those final inches, she felt Frank Lyle’s hand grip the arm he’d already injured. The electric jolt of pain launched her away from him. Using her other hand, she reached for the gun, then twisted and fired—once, twice, three times—before his body went still.

Keeping the gun aimed at the man, she checked for a pulse.

Frank Lyle was dead.

Lizzy used the edge of the cot to pull herself to her feet.

She pulled the gag from Shelby’s mouth before working on removing the tape from around her wrists. Between sobs, the girl tried to catch her breath.

At this rate, Lizzy knew it would take forever to get the tape off. She got up and made her way to the sink, careful not to slip on the blood-slicked floor, and found a knife. On her way back to Shelby, she removed the wood slat from the door.

“You’ll be free soon,” she told her as she cut at the tape.

Jimmy was the first to enter the cabin. He saw that Frank Lyle was dead and put a hand up to stop anyone else from entering.

Lizzy continued to saw at the tape, finally cutting through.

Shelby rubbed her wrists.

Lizzy looked at Jimmy and held up the knife for him to take.

He knew what to do. He went to work on the tape around Shelby’s ankles while Lizzy put a blanket and her arms around Shelby.

“We did it,” Shelby said between sobs as they held one another tight.

“You did it,” Lizzy said.

“Was it the letter?” she asked, her voice hoarse, her body so frail within Lizzy’s embrace.

“Yeah,” Lizzy said. “Ben figured out what you were telling us. I’ve never been so proud.”

A few minutes passed before Lizzy pulled away and looked over her shoulder at Jimmy. She was about to ask him if he was almost done there, but he’d lost his cool. Jimmy Martin was having a difficult time cutting through the layers of tape with a blunt knife. One of the tough guys, he was also having a difficult time holding it together. His eyes were red and brimming with something that looked a lot like tears.

Lizzy took the knife from him, finished what he’d started. Then she put a hand on his shoulder before returning to Shelby and helping her to her feet. She and Jimmy had known each other for a while now. He had two daughters. He’d taken down his share of monsters. Hell, he’d survived cancer. But she knew why he was getting a little sentimental. He’d come to the hospital the other day to see Jared. And for the past ten minutes, he’d worried about Lizzy, too; she’d seen it scrawled in every line of his face before she’d walked off toward the cabin.

The nameless man in black who’d brought Lizzy halfway up the hill came inside then, made sure Lyle was contained/dead, and then told a dozen people behind him to hold off.

“How the hell did you take him down?” he asked Lizzy.

“Teamwork,” Lizzy said.

He lifted a questioning brow.

“This brave young girl caught him off guard, kicked him my way so I could use the shank hidden in my bra.”

“I thought I told you no weapons.”

“I believe you did.”

“It’s OK,” Martin told the man. “You didn’t know who you were dealing with. Lizzy Gardner doesn’t listen to anyone.”





CHAPTER 64

“How long are you planning on keeping me here? Holding me hostage in my own apartment?”

Hayley watched her smoke ring float upward. It made it within two inches from the ceiling before it disintegrated. “This apartment does not belong to you,” she told the scumbag.

“Then why are all of my belongings in here?”

“Because the law-abiding citizens of Sacramento pay taxes, this apartment belongs to the taxpayers.” Hayley took another long drag on her cigarette and then said, “I pay taxes, so we’ll just agree that this is my apartment. And I want it back.”

He chuckled. “You’re going to get caught, and they’ll put you behind bars where you belong.”

“And who, exactly, is going to catch me?”

“My probation officer,” he said smugly. “She has a thing for me.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod, “that’s right. What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

He licked his lips. “She’ll be coming around later today to get laid. She likes it hard and fast, right against the wall over there.”