Killer Instinct (Instinct #2)(80)

All the while her right hand sat perfectly still in her lap, her fingers wrapped tightly on the grip of her G19.

She knew this was a good plan. Dylan didn’t have to sell her on it. She could play the role of Sadira Yavari. She could set the trap.

As her eyes darted between the mirrors in the white Ford Taurus, keeping a vigilant lookout for the Mudir amid all the pandemonium outside on the street, Elizabeth couldn’t help playing the scene in her head. What she would do when he got into the car. What she would even say.

He would climb into the back seat, so distracted by the foiled attack and his rushing to reach his getaway car that he wouldn’t even look at Sadira. Drive! he would bark at her.

That’s when Elizabeth would turn back to him with the G19 in her right hand leading the way. Think again, asshole!

If everything went according to plan, that’s how it would happen. She was sure of it. Right up until she heard her phone ring. Even before she looked to see that it was Dylan calling, she knew there was a problem.

“Get out of the car!” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

“Just do it,” he said. “He knows I’m alive.”

Dylan didn’t need to connect the dots for her. If the Mudir knew he was alive, he would also know that Sadira couldn’t be trusted.

The Mudir kills anyone he doesn’t trust.

“Is he alone?” asked Elizabeth.

The question threw Dylan. She could tell in his voice, there was no time for a debate. All he wanted to hear was the sound of her getting out of the damn car and away from the Mudir.

“Yes. He’s alone,” said Dylan. “But—”

“If I get out of the car, we lose him.”

“And if you don’t …” He paused, frustrated. “I don’t want to lose you, Lizzie.”

Dylan never called her that. Not ever. She’d even told him that she didn’t like Lizzie soon after they first met. But right then, in that moment, she really liked the sound of it.

But not enough to get out of the car.

“We can’t let this guy get away,” she said, before doing something she’d never done to Dylan. Not ever. She hung up on him.

Elizabeth checked the mirrors again. Now they really had to be perfect. There could be no blind spots. She needed to see everywhere around the car.

Oh, crap. You’ve got to be kidding me …

The cop was standing in front of the car, angrily waving at her to move it along. Yeah, he was just doing his job. Yeah, he needed to free up the street for ambulances and fellow law enforcement. But his timing couldn’t be any worse.

Every second Elizabeth looked at him was a second she wasn’t watching for the Mudir. Quickly, she flashed the cop her badge. Maybe it was the glare of the morning sun against the windshield. He kept waving at her. Now he was coming over to her window.

Again, she flashed her badge. Again, it was as if he couldn’t see it. He was motioning for her to roll down her window, but she couldn’t risk it—not if he wanted to look more closely at the badge. If the Mudir caught a glimpse of that, it was game over.

Elizabeth tugged even tighter on the brim of her cap, shaking her head no while holding her badge in her lap, hoping that he would finally see it. Maybe he did. But by then it was too late.

She saw him in the rearview mirror. The Mudir was coming toward the car, gun drawn. A moment’s distraction. That’s all it took for him to have the upper hand. The scene in her mind immediately changed. He would kill the cop and then kill her. She could see it so clearly.

Elizabeth reached for the door, pushing it open as hard as she could to knock the cop out of the line of fire. No sooner had he fallen backward to the pavement than the Mudir’s first shot struck the sideview mirror, exactly where he’d been standing.

“Stay down!” Elizabeth yelled, as she peeled out of the driver’s seat expecting to see the Mudir still coming right for them.

Only he wasn’t. He wasn’t anywhere. At least nowhere she could see.

Crouching as low as she could, she began edging her way along the side of the car. Just as she reached the gas tank, she heard the voice behind her.

“Drop it!”

It was the cop. He’d drawn his gun, demanding Elizabeth drop hers. She had no choice. She had to turn back to him, and that’s all it took. Another moment’s distraction. The arm came out from behind the trunk, grabbing her around the neck.

The Mudir now had his gun to her head.





CHAPTER 115


“LIZZIE!” I YELLED.

But she was gone. She’d hung up on me. Damn it.

I had the phone wedged between my shoulder and ear as I kneeled on the sidewalk next to Eli, my hands frantically ripping his shirt to get a clear look at where the bullet had entered—and hopefully exited—above his hip.

No such luck. Sliding my hand around to his back, I couldn’t feel a hole. He would need surgery. If he didn’t bleed out first.

“The girl,” he said, his voice beginning to falter. “She’s in danger.”

“Yes.”

“Go help her.”

“Not yet,” I said.

I could hear the sirens only blocks away, the ambulances racing to the scene. All around us people were still running, desperate to get as far away from the station as possible. Could they even hear me?