Carly couldn’t breathe. It felt like the world had slowed down, and she prayed she was dreaming because Bran was on the floor with a hole in his chest. He had a hole in his chest and there was blood. So much blood.
Pure panic rushed through her, bringing the world back to full-on raging speed.
She had to do something or Bran would die. He had a bullet in him. A bullet. Where had the bullet come from? It didn’t matter because it was there and it had to come out. He was dying and she couldn’t move.
She had to get the phone and call the police. An ambulance. He needed an ambulance.
“Don’t touch the phone if you don’t want to end up like him.”
Carly looked up and there was a woman standing in the doorway. She was dressed in black but not like the men who had come before. This woman was stylish. She’d even worn killer heels for the crime spree. The hood to her jacket was up, but Carly could see her face.
She looked delicate, with high cheekbones and stark green eyes. Those eyes were icy cold as she looked down at Bran. “He looks a lot like his father. Not as much as Drew, but the resemblance is there.”
She said it with all the emotion of a woman who’d just killed an insect.
Carly moved her body in front of his, trying to protect as much as she could. He was still breathing. It was shallow, but she could feel it. As long as he was alive, there was a chance. She couldn’t let him take another bullet. “What do you want, Francine?”
There was only one explanation. The woman in front of her, the woman who had shot Bran was Francine Wells. And she definitely wasn’t some elderly woman Patricia had victimized.
Her lips curled up in a slightly amused smile. “Figured that out, did you? You know I had an affair with his father? I’m sure he doesn’t. Poor sainted Benedict and his pitiful wife. She was the most pathetic thing. I freed her.”
How the hell was she going to get out of this? “What do you want?”
“I want the drive, of course. I want what all of the players in our little game want.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Of course you do. I saw you take it. I assume you haven’t had time to turn it over to Andrew yet. You know if his father had half his drive and focus, he could have been an amazing man. I actually admire Drew. He needs to stop poking uselessly into the past. There’s nothing but pain for him there. Now, hand over the vase.”
“The vase?” The words didn’t quite make sense. What did the vase have to do with anything?
Francine sighed. “Why would you steal that piece-of-shit vase if you didn’t know that’s where Patty hid her burn folder? You know, the one in which we all make a pact to get rid of our problems and make a lot of money in the meantime. Obviously we wouldn’t trust one another. We each had a copy of the file to ensure that no one would go to the police. It’s not simply about Benedict and Iris. It’s all of our sins laid bare. And that’s the last one in existence. Once I have it, no one can stop me.”
“You killed Steven Castalano,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Of course. What no one knows is that I killed Phillip Stratton, too. A bit too much morphine in his IV after I was certain he had destroyed his copy of the file, and I sent him on to his just reward. He got sentimental in his old age. He destroyed it because he knew it would kill his daughter’s chances to lead the company. I destroyed Castalano’s. Now I’m taking Patty’s and we’ll be done. I want it now.” She pointed the gun right at Carly’s forehead.
“You’re going to kill us both.” She wasn’t stupid.
“That’s a chance you’re going to have to take,” she said with a careless shrug. “Or I can put another bullet in the runt there and end his suffering. It might be better for him in the long run.”
“I’ll tell you where it is.” She could feel the cold metal of Bran’s gun against her hand. She had to hope he’d taken the safety off because all she was going to be able to do was point and shoot if she got the chance.
“All right, why don’t you do that?”
“It’s in my purse. It’s right behind you. You can see it there.” She hadn’t been trying to hide it. She’d breezed right out those doors and she hadn’t cared at the time that Patricia might catch her. Patricia had been eyeing Case at the time. That wasn’t going to happen. She trusted that the younger Taggart could handle her.
Francine backed up, never taking her eyes off Carly.
How long did Bran have?
“Why do you think Patricia kept that vase?” She would say anything to distract the woman, to put off the moment when she was absolutely sure Francine would get rid of all the witnesses.
Francine reached into Carly’s bag and her gloved hand brought the vase up. “Patty thought she was in love with Iris Lawless. This is a memento of her lost love and one last bit of proof that stupid bitch ever existed.”
She let the vase drop to the floor with a crash that resounded through the room. Carly saw what was left among the shards. A tiny thumb drive.
“We started with paper,” Francine said. “When technology caught up, we moved to these, and now I have found all four and I can be free.”
“I’m sure Patricia will have something to say about that.”
“I killed Patty a few hours ago. She picked the wrong young man from her party, but then I always did know her tastes. I sent him in and he’s done his job. One of the bodyguards will find her soon. So I win.”
She bent down to grab the drive and Carly took advantage. She brought the gun around and fired, the sound shaking through the room.
“Stupid bitch.” Francine fell back, but she was on her feet with one hand on the drive and the other holding her gun up.
Carly fired again, catching her in the arm.
Francine hissed but it didn’t stop her. She pulled the trigger and Carly felt fire lick through her body as the bullet found her left arm.
She fell to her knees and then heard the most beautiful sound.
Sirens.
With shaking hands she forced the gun up again.
Francine was at the door. “Unfortunately, you’re going to have to be a diversion. Damn it. Tell Lawless to stay away or I’ll have to kill them all. Again.”
The door slammed shut and Carly’s whole body shook. She couldn’t stop. Francine could come back. She could come back to kill Bran, and Carly was the only one protecting them.
So she forced her aching body to stay upright, to hold the gun.
When the door came open again, she nearly shot Case.
She slumped down in relief when she realized she wasn’t alone anymore.
“We’re going to need a bus. Two actually. We’ve got two down. Gunshot wounds,” he was saying.
She reached out and found Bran’s hand and hoped wherever they went that they would be together.