Chapter Thirty-Six

A shot rang out through the warehouse. A bullet whizzed through the air. Carl stopped dead in his tracks, a surprised grunt emitting from his throat. Olivia forced herself to exhale calmly as she watched him. A spread of burgundy blood colored his chest, resulting in him falling to his knees.

Angela let out a shriek. “Carl! No!”

Olivia shot to her feet, aiming her gun at Angela. Angela pivoted around, taking aim, but Olivia was too quick for her. She didn’t aim as carefully as she had with Carl, but she still hit her mark. Following the crack of another round, Angela cried out in pain, throwing her right hand to her side as she dropped Olivia’s gun to the floor. Blood leaked out from around her palm, coating her hand in a crimson stain.

She took one look at Olivia, their gazes colliding with force. Angela looked once more at her husband before turning and sprinting through the warehouse.

“No!” Olivia leaped over the stack of totes and took off after her, losing her instantly. She followed the blood trail through the warehouse to a familiar wall that held the door that led to where they’d kept the kidnapped teens.

Angela slammed the door before Olivia could get there. It took her only seconds to catch up and she pushed against it, only to hear it lock behind her. She reared back and slammed her body into the door but of course, it didn’t budge.

There was no time. The door to the outside from that room had been left wide open.

Olivia snapped around, running through the warehouse, mindful not to slip in the piles of blood that Angela’s bleeding hand had left behind. She emerged back into the open warehouse where Carl lay, dead, bleeding on the ground and Brock had staggered to his feet. His eyes were full of questions and she wanted nothing more than to stop and make sure he was all right, but she couldn’t let Angela get away. “She got out! She’s leaving!”

Olivia sprinted to the front door and pushed against it. Locked, also! If she had to guess, it was probably locked with some kind of safety mechanism to keep Olivia and Brock from taking flight once they had trapped them inside.

There’s got to be a way.

Olivia quickly searched the door, finding a deadbolt attached to the top corner. They wouldn’t have found it in the dark, but she found it rather quickly in the light of the warehouse. She reached up, clicked the lock into place and swung the door open.

Gravel scattered like the wake of a retreating boat as Alasdair’s red sports car sped out of the driveway. Tires screamed as they made impact with the pavement and the car fishtailed before Angela managed to get it under control. Olivia’s feet thumped to a stop, despair hanging over her as the tail lights retreated. She could rush to her car, but by the time she got into it, Angela would be gone. It was better to raise the alarm. Carl had said he’d made up a lie about having the police on his side, so she could trust the local police.

She rushed back inside the warehouse, brushing past where Brock leaned against a pile of totes that Olivia hadn’t gotten to yet. “Angela got away.” She threw herself down beside Carl’s body and riffled through his pockets, finding her cell phone right away. She punched in a few numbers and held the phone to her ear.

“This is Agent Olivia Knight.” She rattled off the location of the warehouse and the situation in sentences so rapid that she hoped the dispatcher could hear. Once she relayed the right information to the right people, she hung up the phone and sat back on her heels.

It was over. It was all over. They had survived. But Brock was still shot and bleeding.

She straightened to her feet, her eyes going straight to Brock’s bleeding side. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” He lifted his shirt to reveal a nice streak that gashed through his side. “The bullet just nicked me, I’m okay.” He lowered his shirt with a grimace, gazing into her eyes. “Are you okay?”

Was she? She didn’t care about herself. She threw herself into his arms, being careful to avoid the side that was wounded and covered his mouth with hers, kissing him with all of the adrenaline, passion and fear of losing him that she’d been fighting since he was gunned down. He’d saved her life. By pushing her out of the way and into the line of fire for himself, he’d made sure she lived to see the next sunrise. She savored the feel of his warm lips against hers, not dead, not taken down by the gunman, the true mastermind of whatever operation had trafficked those teens. He held her against him, returning her kiss with vigor before pulling her back. “I’ll take that as a yes? ”

Olivia reached up, stroking his face gently as he gazed lovingly into his eyes. “I am now.”