What I've Done (Morgan Dane #4)(94)

She might not be an athlete, but neither was Isaac.

She raced around a huge dead oak tree. Its trunk had been split nearly to the ground by a lightning strike. The overlook was just ahead. And beyond it, the trail that led to the road.

And maybe her escape.

Emergency vehicles would be coming up the mountain. There would be people on the road. Surely, once she reached it, she’d be safe. Thoughts of safety and survival led back to Sharp, bleeding in the grass.

Was he still alive?

His blood on her hands had cooled. Her breath caught on a sob, and her toe snagged a tree root. She stumbled but didn’t go down.

Focus.

Nothing she could have done would have helped Sharp. If she had stayed, Isaac would have shot them both. She’d seen the intent to kill in his eyes. Her only option had been to draw Isaac and his gun away from Sharp and hope that someone else saved him.

Surely the fire trucks would be there soon.

Pebbles broke loose on the trail behind her.

Isaac.

With all her attention on the trail, she burst onto the ledge of the overlook. Once she crossed it, she’d start up the other side. The uphill, harder part of the climb would hopefully put more ground between her and Isaac.

But a shadow stepped out from behind a tree, blocking the trail on the other side. Someone was here. She opened her mouth to shout for help, but the word died on her lips. The moonlight glinted on the metal of a gun in his hand. It was Noah’s friend, Chase.

Haley skidded to a stop. The metal barrier of the overlook was on her right, a solid wall of rock on her left. Isaac’s footsteps on the trail behind her drew closer. She spun around, turning her back to the rock wall, as Isaac emerged from the trail and staggered to a halt.

Panting, he raised his gun, pointing it at her head. “You’re done.”

Panic ripped through her bloodstream.

She was trapped.





Chapter Forty-Four

Lance’s chest burned as he moved down the path. The terrain—and his smoke-filled lungs—kept his pace to an agonizingly slow jog. He blocked the image of Sharp and his heavily bleeding wound from his mind. Saving Haley from Isaac had to be his sole focus.

Sharp wouldn’t have it any other way, and Lance would not let his friend down.

But in the back of Lance’s mind was the thought that Sharp was, at that very moment, dying in Morgan’s arms. Would she be able to stop the bleeding?

The trail sloped downward. Lance’s boots ate up the ground. Parts of the trail were narrow. One wrong step and he’d go over the side. Then he wouldn’t be able to save anyone.

A split tree shone in the moonlight ahead. The overlook wasn’t much farther. Lance eased off the speed as he approached.

A voice floated to him on the breeze. “Stop right there, bitch. I said stop.”

Lance slowed and quieted his steps. He didn’t want Isaac to have any warning that he was coming.

The trail opened onto the overlook clearing. Isaac stood in the mouth of the trail, his back to Lance, the gun in his hand pointed at Haley.

Placing each step carefully and silently on the trail, Lance eased up behind him and pressed the butt of his own gun into the back of Isaac’s head. “Drop it.”

Isaac froze for a second, as if he needed time to process his failure. Then his gun hit the ground, and his hands shot into the air.

Relief flowed through Lance. Haley was going to be all right.

But across the clearing, a voice said, “I don’t think so.”

Lance glanced ahead. Haley stood in the center of the clearing, about ten feet away from Lance and Isaac. Fifteen feet in front of her, at the entrance to the path that led up to the road, Chase Baker stood with a rifle in his hands, pointed at the sky. He lowered the barrel until it was aimed at Haley. Chase had cut off her escape route.

“Put the gun down or I’ll shoot her.” Chase handled the weapon with the comfort born of a lifetime of use.

Lance’s brain whirled. Now what? If he dropped his gun, then he and Haley were dead. Chase would shoot them, or even worse, take them to a secondary location and kill them there. Then Chase and Isaac would roll them off the overlook or bury them in the woods somewhere. Giving Chase control over the situation would not increase Haley’s and Lance’s odds of survival. Isaac and Chase had come here to kill Haley. They weren’t going to walk away after all the effort they’d gone through to get to her.

If Lance didn’t lower his gun, Chase might shoot Haley. But Lance would definitely be able to take Isaac down. Then he’d only have to worry about Chase. Haley might survive a bullet wound if help came quickly.

“I like my odds with the gun,” Lance called out. If he shifted his aim over Isaac’s shoulder, could he hit Chase before Chase shot Haley?

Chase was twenty-five feet away from Lance, too far away for an accurate handgun shot in the dark. Haley was in the way, and Lance’s vision was blurry from the fire.

“I mean it.” Chase wagged his rifle. “I can’t miss her at this distance.” His long gun was a much more accurate weapon.

“Why do you want her?” Lance asked.

“Fuck you!” Chase yelled. “And drop the gun, or I’ll blow a hole right through her.”

“You’re going to shoot her anyway.” Lance kept his voice calm. “And I’m going to blow the back of Isaac’s head clean off. Then I’m going to shoot you. However you look at it, I’m the one who’s going to survive.”