Second Honeymoon

Chapter 112

IT HAPPENED SO fast, and yet in some strange and sickening way I felt as if I were watching it in slow motion. Probably because there was nothing I could do to save her.

Halfway between the Jeep and Officer Lohman, Sarah made a desperate grab for her gun. Desperate because Lohman, inexplicably, had already reached for his.

He got off one shot, the blood instantly exploding out of Sarah’s shoulder as she fell backward. His second shot got her in the other arm, spinning her around as she hit the pavement face-first.

I should’ve gone out the back door of the Jeep, away from his line of fire. I was no good to her if I went down, too. But the adrenaline, the anger, the sheer frustration of watching her get blindsided had me bursting out into the street, running straight at him at full speed.

He got off one shot as I raised my gun, the bullet buzzing so close to my ear I could feel the breeze.

Now it’s my turn, asshole.

He knew it, too. With the first squeeze of my trigger he was already on the run, diving behind the grille of his stolen patrol car. When he turned to fire back at me, I unloaded the rest of my clip so fast he dropped his gun trying to duck.

“Here,” said Sarah, her voice straining as I knelt down in front of her. She lifted her arm just enough to hand me her gun. “Get him.”

But I couldn’t even see him. And there was no way I would leave her side.

Shielding her as best as I could, I waited for his next move.

Instead it was someone else’s.

The front door of the house swung open. It was the cop guarding O’Hara from the inside. His gun was drawn and he was confused as hell.

Why is the FBI agent firing at my fellow officer?

Only it wasn’t one of his fellow officers.

Even in the uniform, even with the hat pulled down over his eyes, even in the shadows of the setting sun, even with my having seen only an outdated picture of him—I knew.

“It’s him!” I yelled. “That’s Sinclair!”

I couldn’t blame the cop for freezing for a split second, his mind piecing everything together, including the grim prospects for the real Officer Lohman. You just don’t steal an armed police officer’s uniform and car by saying “pretty please.”

But if there was any doubt as to where this cop should be pointing his gun, Sinclair cleared it up right away. He sprang up from in front of the patrol car like a jack-in-the-box, squeezing off two quick shots at the cop before dropping out of sight again. The second shot splintered the wood frame of the front door, just barely missing the cop’s chest as he ducked back into the house. For sure, he was radioing for backup.

For sure, Sinclair knew that, too.

The next sound I heard was the door opening on the far side of the patrol car, the driver’s side. I couldn’t see him, and that was the plan. He was crawling behind the wheel, starting the engine. Ducking below the dash, he jammed on the gas, blindly backing out of the driveway.

My first shot hit the side window, the glass shattering. I next went for the tires, taking out the two closest to me.

But he was still moving, barreling into the street before shifting out of reverse, his tires squealing against the pavement as he hit the gas.

“Go!” I heard behind me.

It was as if Sarah had pooled all her remaining strength to make sure I wouldn’t do what I was about to do. I did it anyway. I let Sinclair drive off without chasing him, and stayed to help her.

I pulled out my folded handkerchief, pressing it firmly over the shoulder wound to stanch the bleeding.

“Here,” came a voice behind me. The officer from inside the house was handing me a belt. “An ambulance is on the way.”

I tightened the belt above the second wound, this one below the biceps. She’d already lost so much blood.

“You’re going to be fine,” I told her. “Just fine.”

She glanced at the Grand Cherokee, her voice weak. “You should’ve gone after him,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“What, and miss playing doctor with you here?”

I could tell she wanted to laugh, but she didn’t have the strength. “You big dope,” she said.

I lifted her head, cradling it in my hands. Her breathing was slower, more labored. Where the hell is that ambulance?

“Hang on, okay? You have to hang on for me,” I told her.

She nodded ever so slightly, those beautiful jade-green eyes of hers struggling to stay open.

Until, finally, they no longer could.