She realized then that, miraculously, somehow, Wes was there; he was inching toward her, coming around the giant green recycling tank that sat just by her position. And she heard him whisper, “Oh, and another quote from my favorite movie: ‘Your friend here is only mostly dead. There’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead!’”
She realized that she could smile. Wes had known that she would have avoided the full thrust of a needle—the full dosage needed to absolutely incapacitate her—if she could.
And he might have acted; she knew that he had his 3D-printed weapon. But he was watching as well for what weapons their captors were holding over them, preparing to use on them, Chloe imagined.
Wes...
Her smile grew. Even now, caught up in the deadly tail end of their investigation, he would ease her mind with jokes aboutThe Princess Bride, since he’d been teased over the name “Westley” since they arrived on the ship. The second he’d caught on to what was happening, his determination had been to save her and the others. But he also knew that she would also do everything in her power as well, notjust to save herself, but to save those who were around them in the same position.
She also knew why he was waiting.
Just as she hadn’t known until the last several minutes who was involved and who might be innocent, he had to know, as well. And now...
Now it was time to do something.
And she had been able to blink. She’d even been able to smile and she knew as well that she’d be able to talk, give Wes exactly what he needed, though he might know everything already—two of their suspects were flat on the floor while the other three...
“They’ll catch you! The only thing you’ll ever rule is a jail cell!” she warned as loudly as she could, which was barely more than a whisper.
Okay, her voice was pathetic, but...
Broderick was by the disposal shaft. But Amelia and Celia were still standing halfway between their victims and Broderick’s position by the hull as he studied the mechanism to achieve his desired goal.
“I screwed up!” Amelia snapped at Celia. “But you did a hell of a job with this one!”
“Hey, I did amazingly well! I got them all down here before they became deadweight!” Celia snapped back.
And that was it. Wes’s chance to move.
He leaped up from the shadows, 3D-printed gun pointed at the two women.
“I’d say that you both screwed up,” Wes informed them. “Drop your weapons, drop them now. I’m sure you have secreted a few knives on you and that you may even have a few 3D-printed weapons, as well.”
Amelia swiftly drew her own weapon. “Celia, damn it! He can’t shoot both of us!”
But by then, Chloe had discovered that she could roll, that she could move and her determination was so strong that she could reach her bag and draw her own weapon, aim it Celia and warn, “Don’t do it!”
“We can take them!” Amelia cried, pointing her gun at Chloe.
Chloe didn’t want to kill the woman. She wanted her put away; she wanted justice for those who had died and for a woman like Amelia, life without the possibility of parole would be hell on earth.
But Amelia was taking aim to shoot her. She and Wes fired at the same time; the gun went flying from Amelia’s hand as she screamed and fell, her wrist blown to hell along with her left knee.
Celia evidently didn’t want to die.
She was surrendering even as five of the ship’s security officers came around the bins, ready to take her into custody.
But they heard a resounding curse and looked to the hull.
Broderick McClintock had maneuvered the disposal hatch.
And he was gone.
“Can he survive that?” one of the security officers murmured.
“Yeah, possibly,” another answered him, glancing up as he set Celia Henderson’s wrists into a pair of cuffs.
“A doctor! I need a doctor!” Amelia screamed.
