I quickly read the email, my heart rate kicking up and my back tensing.
Parker senses my change in demeanor. “Did you find something?”
I don’t answer right away. I race to finish what I’m reading, but the tension in my body increases with every sentence.
“Shit. I think I may have something,” I finally say, grabbing the next one, hoping for even more.
“What is it?” Parker asks.
I stop, even though I want to keep going, to see if this is actually real or not.
“There’s a small chance we can lessen his sentence or even get him out of this,” I say at last. “‘Small’ is the keyword here. Owen thought the emails would implicate him further, but I think, due to a few choice words used, we may be able to claim self-defense.”
Parker’s mouth drops open. “Really?”
I nod. “These men weren’t careful in how they spoke to him via email. There are pretty clear death threats in here. And if I can get Peyton to testify that he was hired to kill him, we might have a chance.”
“How the hell are you going to get Peyton to testify? Won’t that land him in jail?”
“Not if I can work out a deal with him. To drop the cases against him in exchange for helping take down the black snake crime syndicateandtestify on behalf of Owen.”
“Well, shit,” Parker says, running his hands through his curly blond hair.
My heart beats as though it might burst out of my chest. I don’t want to get my hopes up. I don’t want to have to rely so much on Peyton. But I also can’t believe there’s even a chance Owen might walk away from all this.
My hopes are instantly dashed when I hear Noah yell from outside, followed by a series of rapid gunshots.
Snatching the papers, I stuff them into the folder and drop to the ground, pulling Parker with me.
“Get behind the couch and stay there,” I demand, pushing him toward it.
“What about you?” he asks, his voice high-pitched.
Pulling a gun from the back of my pants, I shove the folder in his arms.
“I’ll be fine. Trained agent, remember?” I say with a slight upturn of my lips, hoping to ease his fear even though my panic is creeping dangerously close to the surface. I don’t know how many men are out there, and there’s only Noah and me.
I hand Parker my phone. “Call Ella. She’ll know how to get us help.”
I crouch and slink toward the front door and the sound of shouting and gunshots.Noah, you fucking better be alive.
Peeking my head above the window ledge next to the front door, I notice three shadows among the trees on the opposite side of the driveway. WhenI scan the area they’re shooting at, I finally relax, if only a little. Noah crouches behind the car, reloading his gun.
He’s alive.
A plan takes root in my head, and instead of trying to reach Noah, I decide to use him as a distraction. I slink along the floor, careful to not be spotted through the windows. When I reach the dim hallway, I stand and make my way to Owen’s bedroom. It’s dark, with the curtains drawn across the French doors leading to the outside. His bed is only half-made, and the desire to crawl in it and breathe him in is strong.
Shaking my head at the stupidity of my body's response to being in this place, I make my way to the closed curtains.
Peering through the small crack between them, I search for other shooters. When I find none, I peel back the fabric and inch the doors open. Careful to stay hidden, I slink along the side of the house, sticking to the shadows.
I still hear gunshots and the voices of the men in the trees shouting directions to each other. Inwardly, I smile at their frustration in not being able to get a good enough angle to take Noah out.
Noah’s booming voice echoes across the field of flowers in front of me, taunting them.
I shake my head, mumbling, “Cocky bastard.”
When I reach the corner of the house that faces the driveway, I plaster my back to the cold stone behind me and ready myself. I know I need to be quick. I won’t get more than one or two shots before their guns are turned on me.
