He could still see her standing there.Blood rushed up his windpipe from his shattered lung.
He choked.Writhed on the wet ground.Clawed at the top of his plate carrier, trying in vain to get air.
Suffocating.Body jerking.Then he pulled in one desperate breath.And another.Just enough air to regain his senses.
Cassie was stalking toward him, her steps muffled by the debris on the forest floor.That fuckingbitchwas coming toward him.
His right hand was still curled around the grip of his weapon.He stared up at her face, hatred giving him one final burst of strength.
He waited, unmoving, until she was within easy range.Let her think he was already dead.
Baring his teeth, the metallic taste of blood thick on his tongue, he used the last of his strength to aim the pistol.
Her cold expression was the last thing he saw before a bullet slammed into his forehead.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
––––––––
“Cassie...”Back braced against the rough cedar bark of the tree he’d taken cover behind, Tristan struggled up onto one knee, his left hand tucked into his waistband to take the strain off his wounded arm.
It was broken, the blood soaking his chest and left side.His chest hurt, his ribs bruised from the seatbelt during impact.
The pain came in rapid waves, making him lightheaded.
His right hand clutched his useless pistol.He’d emptied the full magazine during the earlier firefight.The rest of the ammo was back in his truck.He’d managed to kill the accomplice, but Quinn was still out there.
He’d heard her shout at the bastard.Then the shots.But he couldn’t see her.Didn’t know what had happened...
He had to get to her.Had to stop Quinn.
Flattening a hand against the trunk, he forced himself to his feet.Swayed a moment, the forest spinning around him.
Cassie.Have to save her.
He took a staggering step.Then another, fighting to stay on his feet.
