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They had him now. Finally.
Ready to close in on his prey and end this, Val held his weapon up, prepared to fire as he entered the trees. The greenbelt was only about fifty yards or so deep, and only ran the length of the block.
But the trees were dense and the shadows thick. Momentarily concealing the target while also preventing anyone in the houses on either side seeing what was going on.
There was no place for Whitaker to hide here. Nowhere for him to run.
Birdsong filtered through the damp air. He scanned the shadowed space as he moved, the soles of his boots silent against the carpet of fallen fir and cedar needles, impatient to finish this so he could get back to Jaia.
He’d hidden her well out of sight along a stretch of isolated beach a few miles away, but he couldn’t leave her there much longer. The drugs would be starting to wear off now and the tide would be coming in soon.
Matthias entered the trees to his right. Val waved him over more, then edged to the left. They would fan out, then close in on their target from both sides to flush him out, trapping him. Forcing him to make a move.
The moment Whitaker did, it would be over.
NOW OR NEVER.
The second he broke from cover, he was exposed. But a moving target was harder to hit, and the only way to reach the rental car was to get past whoever was hunting him out here.
Jaia needed him. He would run through a hail of bullets to get to her.
Ready to fight for his life, Brandon spun to the side of the tree and risked a look behind him. Nothing moved. The band of forest was eerily still, only the faint sound of birds singing disturbing the silence.
He edged to his left, aiming for the direction of his car, darted behind another trunk and crouched, scanning for a threat. How many guys were in here with him? One? More?
Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of movement about thirty yards to his two o’clock. He dropped to one knee and waited, finger on the trigger.
Someone emerged for a moment between two distant trees. The man whirled to face him. He and Brandon aimed and fired at the same time.
Brandon jerked back behind the closest tree and popped out low on the other side, racing for a new position. A bullet struck a tree he passed, a sliver of wood catching him across the cheek.
Blood trickled down the side of his face as he skidded to his knees and peered between two trunks to search for his target. Spotting a leg just before it disappeared behind a log, he aimed and fired again. The man cried out and fell out of view.
Brandon kept his weapon aimed in that direction and glanced around. He didn’t see or hear anyone else in here, but there was no way to tell if there were more hunters, and he also didn’t know how many people had taken Jaia and killed the agents.
He edged to the left, circling slightly to see behind that log and try to get another shot off. A clump of ferns rustled slightly. He aimed there and inched over more, pulse thudding. He needed to take this fucker out so he could escape.
Behind him, the light shifted, a weak ray of sunlight burning through the mist. Among the long shadows slanting across the ground cast by the trees, another shadow moved, then froze.
Fuck—
Brandon whipped around at the last moment, spotted the other man and fired twice. A grunt sounded a split second before something hit the ground hard out of view.
He spun back around to face where the first shooter had been. Two of them. At least two, one on either side of him.
He ducked back and pressed his spine to the rough bark, searching for a decent running route out of here. Both the shooters were wounded. He had to hope that was enough to allow him to make it out of here without being shot down.
He glimpsed movement to his right. Snapping his head around, he caught sight of someone limping back through the woods, heading toward the houses they’d run past to get here. He raised his weapon but didn’t have a shot. Letting him go for now, he quickly turned his attention back to the other guy.
His heart lurched.
The bastard was up and had somehow snuck up behind him. And he had a bead on him. Was raising his weapon.
Bracing for the impact of a bullet, Brandon dropped to one knee as he snapped his own weapon up and fired.
THE BULLET PUNCHED deep into the side of his chest. An improbable shot that found the vulnerable gap mere inches away from the edge of the Kevlar vest meant to protect him.
The impact knocked Val to his knees, a white-hot burst of pain taking his breath away. A deep, hideous burning from which there was no escape.
Fuck. He got me.
Val forced himself up. Managed to get to his feet and stumble onward, raising his weapon. Matthias had bugged out, and Val knew the fucker wasn’t coming back. It was just him and Whitaker now, and only one of them was leaving this greenbelt alive.
Whitaker made a break for it. Val turned and fired. For a second he thought he hit him, but all of a sudden he was back on his knees, and he couldn’t hold his arm up. He glanced down at the pistol dangling limp in his hand in confusion. Became aware of the blood slicking his skin, the metallic scent of it filling his nostrils.
The world tilted. He started to topple over. Hit the ground on his side.
He heard running footsteps coming at him. Didn’t have the strength to get up.
But somehow, he managed to roll to his back. Grit his teeth as he forced his weak arm up, preparing to fire.
Before the pistol had even left the ground, Whitaker kicked it from his hand and pounced on him, straddling his waist and driving a fist into Val’s face. His head snapped to the side, the fresh surge of pain clearing some of the haze from his head.
Fight.
He squeezed his hand into a fist. Couldn’t bring his arm up to throw the punch.
Whitaker grabbed the front of Val’s shirt and twisted hard, making the bunched collar bite into the front of his throat. Choking him. He gasped, too weak to fight back, the pain in his chest blotting out the ability to think.
“Where’s Jaia?” Whitaker yelled in his face. “Where is she, what did you do with her?”
“Cave,” Val rasped out as the weakness stole through him.
Whitaker eased up slightly on the pressure around his throat. “What cave?”
“S...sea cave.” He blinked. Struggled to see the other man’s face. Yeah, Matthias was long gone by now.
Whitaker’s eyebrows snapped together. “Where?” He jerked on the shirt.
It hurt to talk. Was nearly impossible to think. Jaia. The cave. “Shel...Sheltered...Cove.” Six miles to the south, between here and Crimson Point.
“Where’s the cave?” Whitaker snapped.
Val dragged a hand up, grabbed at him. Caught a fistful of his jacket in his bloodstained fist. “Wasn’t gonna...hurt her.” He groaned, grief and regret increasing the suffocating sensation.
Both Whitaker and Jaia were still alive. Matthias would probably lie and blame the failure on him to save himself. What would happen to his son now? “Liked her. Knew...brother.”
“Tell me where the cave is,” Whitaker barked.
He’d meant to kill Whitaker and go back for her well before the tide came in. Now... “N-north...side. Had to. No choice,” he wheezed, needing him to understand why. Christ, it felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest. Slowly crushing the life out of him. Every breath was torture. “H-hurry. Tide...”
It might already be starting to come in. She couldn’t swim. He’d promised her he would be back to get her before then.
“The north side of Sheltered Cove?” Whitaker demanded, staring down at him with hate-filled eyes.
Val tried to nod. He clung to the coat even as the last of his remaining strength began to ebb. “My ph...phone,” he urged weakly. “Take it.”
Whitaker eyed him a moment, then searched his pockets and found the burner phone. Slid it into his jacket pocket.
A tiny measure of relief slid through Val. He’d kept evidence on it, just in case. The threatening texts that had forced him into this, and all the communications since then.
At least now the truth would come out, and maybe the people behind this would be held responsible. Dying was better than spending the rest of his life locked up in prison, or constantly on the run. Except...
Kevin.
A wave of desperation seized him, so strong it wrenched a garbled cry from his shattered chest. The pain of it sliced through everything else, a deafening scream in his head.
Kev, I’m so sorry, buddy.
He wouldn’t be there to see any more ballgames or practices. Wouldn’t see his son graduate or grow into a man. Would never see that precious face again.
All because of that fateful day in Yemen. That single event had led him directly to this awful moment.
A blinding rush of tears flooded his eyes. “Tell my son... Tell him...love him. Please,” he gasped out, a gray haze already beginning to seep into the edges of his vision.
With him dead, the bosses would have no reason to target Kevin. That was his only consolation as he lay dying, wracked with pain and the crushing guilt of what he was about to put his son through.
Whitaker’s jaw tightened. He yanked Val’s hand from his coat and let it drop to the ground. Started to stand.
Wait...
Val opened his mouth, all the other things he needed to say flooding his brain, crowding his mouth. But nothing came out.
Death had him in a vise grip now. Was slowly squeezing the life out of him. And suddenly he was terrified of what awaited him on the other side. He needed to do something to balance the karmic scales currently stacked against him.
He was vaguely aware of Whitaker standing and walking away. Leaving him to die alone, as he deserved. But there was something else. Something urgent circling at the back of his mind that he needed to tell him—
Wait.
He tried to force the word out. His lips barely moved. No sound came out.
He stared up at the fading treetops, his body encased in invisible concrete. One final thought flickered through his mind as his eyes closed for the last time.
He hadn’t warned Whitaker about the second team coming for him.
