Page 33 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 4

“And all I have to do is make a single call that will have every one of your Eden Ranch files sent to the FBI.”

“And just how did you get your hands on those?”

I ignore his question and continue, “You’re dying. Actively dying. We can sit here all night and figure out which of us is bluffing or I can turn you over to Jörgen and get the information I want anyway.”

His gaze flits to Jörgen’s and back to me. “What a pleasant surprise. You’re not as stupid as I originally thought.”

“Every minute you choose to waste is one minute closer to your demise,” is all I say in return. I rack the chamber of the gun and hold it steady. “Now please make the call.”

Eyes on me, his lips kick up to a grin as he reaches for his phone and scrolls through his numbers. When he lifts the phone to his ear, I almost think he’ll be foolish enough to do something other than what he’s told, but when he orders whoever is on the other line to release Ripley, my stomach eases.

“It’s done. He’s all yours.”

“Where is he?” I ask.

“Manteno State Hospital. He’ll be released. Now let me out here. I’ll arrange a ride.”

“No, not until he’s safe.” I don’t trust Dorian, not even on the brink of his own death.

Jörgen grabs him by the scruff, yanking him out of the seat, and I grip his arm.

“He comes with us. He stays until Ripley is with me.”

* * *

Dorian sits hunched over himself, clutching his stomach that bleeds onto the leather seat where Jörgen shot him earlier. The rear window is blown out, whipping the wind through the back of the vehicle as we drive along the dark roads.

My gun is on him, my finger tapping against the trigger, and it seems with each mile, Dorian’s face grows increasingly pallid.

A grin stretches his lips. “You think you’re in love with him. If you only knew the truth about Ripley.” He winces as his voice rises over the sounds of wind.

“Shut up.”

“Things are not always as they seem,” he continues, and the breathy quality of his words tells me his body is in chaos, responding to the bullet in his gut. “Monsters come in all varieties.”

“You’re wrong about him. Ripley’s a good man.”

“Is he? You see … Ripley has … a very unique skill for … making those around him trust.” His words are broken by wheezes of air. “But don’t be a fool. You think you’re saving him. You’re not. He’ll be hunted down by his own kind.”

“It must be exhausting,” I say, keeping the gun level in spite of the ache at my wrist.

“What’s that?”

“Dying. You’re nearly out of breath.”

A flicker of a smile dances across his face, his eyelids growing heavier.

The car comes to a stop and within seconds, Jörgen is at the window. He passes a cellphone to me and holds up his own. “The hospital is up the street. I don’t want to rouse suspicion.”

“I’ll stay with him.” I nod toward Dorian.

There could be others, perhaps a dozen men inside that building, all waiting to rain hell. Between Jörgen and me, Ripley stands a better chance of walking out alive if I stay put.

“I’ll let you know if he’s alive. If he tries anything, don’t hesitate to shoot. I’m not out in twenty minutes, finish him off and leave. Go somewhere safe. Promise me you’ll do this.”

“I promise.” Placing my hand on Jörgen’s, I squeeze tight. “Be careful.”

With a sharp nod, he pats himself, presumably checking for weapons, and takes off into the night.