“You’re under arrest.”The officer reads her Miranda rights like clockwork.Amy scrambles up, and when she sees me close her face goes white with fury.
“Laird!What are you doing here?”she spits, voice thin with outrage.
“I’m with Fenella.We’re here to catch you, Alan, and Peter,” I say.
“You and Fenella working together?You two FBI now?”Amy’s jaw drops; she snarls in disbelief.
“No.We’re not.We’re two people taking revenge.”
“What?You’re insane!”Amy laughs, still reeling from how fast things turned.
“Now be a good girl, Amy.”
Gunfire cracks.I freeze.My heart slams against my ribs when the shots explode.My eyes go wide.I hold my breath.
“Shit.They have guns.”
Did they shoot Fenella?That can’t be happening.Not on my watch.I push back toward the corridor.As I near the end of the dead-end hall, another shot reverberates off the far wall.
32
Deadly Rejection
Fenella
Oh my God.
It isn’t Laird who steps in to help me, it’s Peter.He wraps his arm around my neck until I am pinned under him.Cold metal presses to my temple.There’s a black gun aimed at my head.
“Let me go, Peter,” I growl, though my body trembles.
“Shut up!”Peter snaps.His words ring in my ears.
I close my eyes and bear the pain in my ankles, swallowing the roar of fear.I lift my arms to free myself, but panic makes me useless; I’m suddenly helpless and can only cling to Peter’s arm.I can’t even stand on my own.My balance wobbles.
“Please, Peter, please,” I whisper.
“Peter, let her go.She doesn’t know anything,” Alan says, trying to calm him.
“Yes?Then put the bag in the car and move away.”
Peter tightens his grip.The gun tip digs harder into my temple.I stare at Alan as he drops the black duffel into the back passenger seat and backs away, exactly as Peter ordered.
“Done.Now let her go.”Alan steps forward, but Peter shoves me toward the car.“Peter, let her go,” Alan warns again, low.
“You shut up!You traitor!I brought you into my business and you betray me?You called the FBI?You think you’re so smart?”Peter’s voice explodes, the gun still inches from my face.
“What FBI?”Alan frowns.
“Don’t play dumb.The feds are tearing my house apart right now.And you’re here stealing my money.How about I blow this girl’s brains out too, huh?”Peter pants.
My breathing is ragged.My feet throb.Tears track down my cheeks.My heart races and my whole body shakes.
“Calm down, Peter.I didn’t call the feds,” Alan says, stepping closer.Peter drags me to the side of the car, nearly at the driver’s door.
“I don’t give a fuck.All I know is you stole my money.”
He forces me onward, using my body as a shield.Alan keeps advancing.When we reach the driver’s door, Peter presses me against the car.
