17
Coop gritted his teeth as Henry Doyle—the fucker—wrapped his meaty hand around Mac’s arm. Using the bobby pin she’d slipped him during that heart-wrenching hug, he tried to work the cuffs loose without the other two men noticing.
He understood she’d set up the whole farewell scene as a distraction from her real goal—to hand off the hair pin without suspicion. Even so, it fucking gut-punched him when she’d told him she loved him.
For years, Coop had wanted to hear those words fall from her lips. His dreams had been filled with that moment when she finally looked him in the eye and gave him her heart.
Christ, he hoped she meant it, because every damn word he’d said was the truth. This wasn’t how their story was going to end. Not even fucking close.
It’s not over, baby. We’re not over.
He’d screwed things up with her before, but if by some miracle he got out of this mess, he planned to do whatever it took to keep her by his side. In the field and in his bed.
“Let’s go.” Henry pulled on Mac’s arm.
She frowned. “Where are we going?”
“Outside. I may be a lawyer, but I’m not completely heartless. Even I can’t kill you two in front of each other after witnessing that tearjerker of a scene.” He looked at his nephew. “Wait a couple of minutes after we leave. I’ll take her outside, in the trees.” Glancing at Coop, the bastard added, “Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick for her.”
“Don’t do this, man,” Coop begged. “Please, just take the money and walk.”
“Sorry, son. I don’t have a choice.” Doyle started leading Mac out of the room, his gun pushed snuggly against her side.
“Please!Just take the goddamn money and fuckingwalk!” Coop pulled against the cuffs and the ropes at his ankles again.
“Tell you what.” Doyle stopped to look at him again. “Paul will bring you out to her when he’s done with you. That way, at least the two of you will be lying next to each other when it’s all over.”
Mac swung her frightened gaze back to Coop’s. “Sean.”
“It’s okay, baby.” He locked his eyes with hers, praying she could see the truth behind his words. “We’ll be together again, soon.”
With a tearful nod, she let herself be led away.
Coop waited until they were gone before looking at the fucker in front of him. “Don’t supposed I could talk you into letting me go?”
Paul laughed. “Don’t supposed you could.”
“Can you at least do me one favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Will you shoot me close-up? You know, put the gun to my head before you pull the trigger?”
“Why the hell would you want me to do that?” The other man looked at Coop as if he’d lost his damn mind.
“Seriously?” Coop returned the same look. “Have you not seen those shows about people who get shot in the head and survive? Most of the time, they’re nothing more than fucking vegetables afterward. Sipping baby food from a straw and needing someone else to wipe their ass. If this is going to happen, and it seems pretty clear that it is, I don’t want to take any chances of ending up like that. We do this, we do it right, yeah?”
Paul stared at him a moment before his large shoulders bounced with laughter. “Whatever, man. It’s your funeral.” He snorted. “Literally.” He started toward Coop.
Come on, asshole.
“Thanks.” Coop sighed. “I know this probably sounds weird, but I appreciate it.”
Shaking his head, Paul was only a few feet away now. “Sounds really fucking weird.”
That’s it. Just a little closer.
“Anything you want to say before we do this?” The man stopped inches from where Coop sat. “Deathbed confession or anything?”
