What I've Done (Morgan Dane #4)(92)

The clean air in his lungs—and the hope that at least Haley would live—gave Sharp a small charge of energy. Unable to get to his feet, he crawled through the dry grass to the back of the yard, an inch at a time, trying to reach a place where the worst of the burning embers and flying bits of fire couldn’t reach.

Probably only a couple of minutes had passed, but it felt like hours to Sharp. Each movement sent another gush of blood from his wound.

Finally, Haley knelt and tugged off her sweatshirt. She pressed it to his wound and leaned on it. Tears streamed down her cheeks, cutting through the sooty grime. “The wood came out.”

Sharp couldn’t believe they were alive. Haley hadn’t given up on him. As the night air rushed into his lungs, feeling returned to his body.

And pain. Loads of it.

He put a hand to his middle. The belt had come loose during his slide out the window. The wood in his side had been knocked free, and blood was flowing. The rags she’d used to stabilize the wood impaling him were gone.

Sharp lifted his hands. They were coated with blood. Haley’s horrified eyes took it in.

Sirens approached.

She clutched his hand. “They’re almost here. Please don’t die.”

“I’ll try,” he croaked and stared up at the sky. A thick cloud of smoke blew across the stars. The sight was deadly but beautiful. Would it be the last thing Sharp saw?

“I’ll get help.” Haley stood and turned toward the house. She’d have to give it a wide berth to get to the front of the property, where the fire trucks would arrive.

Even if he didn’t make it, Haley was going to survive. He hadn’t failed her. He hadn’t failed Ted.

She turned away from him. Sharp let his eyes close. He’d rest until she came back. The darkness pulled at him.

“You’re not going anywhere, bitch,” a voice said.

Sharp forced his eyelids open. A figure approached, silhouetted against the fire. He pulled a gun and pointed it at Haley.

“No!” she sobbed, her body wavering, her legs shaking.

“Stop,” the man shouted. The firelight played over a thin face that Sharp recognized from the photos on the whiteboard.

Isaac McGee.

Shocked, Sharp reached for his weapon, but his hand slapped nothing but his bloody hip. His gun had fallen from his belt in the basement.

“You’re coming with me,” Isaac said to Haley.

“No!” Sharp reached forward, digging his fingers into the dirt and trying to drag his body between the man and Haley. But it was no use. They were defenseless.

If Isaac took Haley away, she would die. Just like Ted. Sharp knew it with every fiber of his being. She’d be better off being shot here, with emergency responders on the way. Most bullet wounds were survivable with prompt medical attention. Ted had been unlucky.

Sharp drew in some air and forced out three words. “Don’t go, Haley.”

With his gaze locked on Haley, Isaac gestured toward Sharp with his gun. “Come with me, or I’ll shoot him.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Sharp croaked. “I’m dying anyway.”

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Isaac said.

Haley stared at Sharp. Tears glistened on her face. Were they both going to die?

No. They weren’t completely out of options.

Haley knew the trails around her house. Hopefully, Isaac did not. In her black yoga pants and gray T-shirt, Haley would be a tough target in the dark.

He met her gaze in the flickering firelight. She knew what he wanted her to do, and it was clear she didn’t want to leave him. But Sharp couldn’t run, and he couldn’t fight.

Sharp mouthed, “Run.”





Chapter Forty-Two

Morgan lifted her fingers from the bodyguard’s neck. His eyes stared blankly at the sky. The man was dead.

She stood on shaky legs and scanned the lawn. Esposito staggered away from the burning house.

Terror gripped Morgan’s heart when she didn’t see Lance. She grabbed Esposito’s shoulder. “Where’s Lance?”

The ADA spun around and jerked a thumb at the blazing house. Anger narrowed his bloodshot eyes. “Your boyfriend is an idiot,” he yelled, then choked, bending forward and spitting on the ground.

They turned toward the house. A roof beam collapsed at the front door, sending a shower of embers high into the air. A figure stumbled out of the smoke-filled doorway.

Lance.

Esposito raced forward. Draping one of Lance’s arms over his shoulders, Esposito half dragged him away from the burning house.

Lance shook off the assistance a few feet away from the house. “I’m going to try to get in through the back.” He pointed at the ADA. “Someone has to direct the fire crews.”

“I think they’ll find the fire on their own.” The ADA followed Lance around the house.

Morgan ran after the men. Someone had to keep a lookout for whoever had set this fire. She knew without a doubt that this fire was not an accident. Someone wanted Haley dead. But why?

Nothing made sense.

Morgan jogged through the grass behind Lance and Esposito. They made a wide detour around the house and ran into the small backyard. Embers and debris rained down on them. A pinprick of heat seared Morgan’s cheek as she scanned the back of the house. She brushed the ember off her skin.