Page 102 of Dark ’N’ Deadly

“No!” He pounded his fist on the roof of the car, making her flinch. “What you both did to me was unforgivable. You betrayed me, you disgusting little whore. Fuckin’ an ATF agent. Yes, I know you’ve been sleepin’ under his roof and in his bed, just as I knew you both were workin’ with the damn feds. I tracked Jesse all the way to New Jersey, right into the federal courthouse. I gave him a test, and he failed, all because of you. I should have killed you like I did your father.”

“What?” Her mind went blank. Did he really just say…

“That’s right.” He pulled a small handgun from his pocket, holding it by his leg. “I killed your father. He was in the way. Just as you are now. I don’t know how you managed to get away from Pritchard, but that’s a mistake I’ll be rectifyin’ shortly.”

The full impact of his words hit her.

He didn’t leave us. Her real father hadn’t deserted them after all.

This bastard—this evil sonofabitch—had taken him away, the same way he’d stolen so much of their lives. “No, no, no!” she screamed, then she reared back her arm and hurled the radio at his head.

Harley raised the gun, but the radio was in mid-air. He flinched to avoid it, firing at the same time. She winced and staggered backward. He’d missed.

He lifted one hand to his head where the radio had struck him in the temple. “Bitch!”

“You said it,” she shouted then charged him, clawing at his face with her nails, pounding on his chest and his head with her fists. All the anger and sadness she’d been repressing barreled to the surface, and she hit him harder. “You bastard!” Tears began streaming down her face unchecked, blurring her vision.

He grabbed her upper arm then backhanded her so hard across the face she fell to the pavement. Pain lanced through her shoulder. Stars danced before her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to clear her vision.

Harley laughed. “You’re nothin’ but a snivelin’ little girl. You always were, and now you’ll die here with everyone else.” Instead of shooting her as she expected, he pulled something from his other pocket.

The detonator.

Her eyes flew wide. “You’re insane. Killing all these people won’t accomplish a thing. There won’t be any place in the world you can hide. They’ll come for you, and they won’t stop until they find you.”

“They’re not smart enough.” He advanced on her, stopped, then reared back his foot to kick her.

Harley gripped the detonator in one hand, but his other hand was empty. Somehow, during their tussle, he’d dropped the gun. She crab-walked backward until her hand touched something hard and cold.

The gun.

Her fingers closed around the handle and she whipped it around, aiming at his chest. To her shock, he only laughed again, harder this time.

“You won’t shoot me. You don’t have it in you, so I’ll tell you exactly what’s gonna happen.” He shoved the detonator back into his pocket then opened the car door wider. “I’m gonna leave you here, lyin’ on the ground, snivelin’ and cryin’ while I drive off. Then I’m gonna blast you and all those government pricks into little bitty pieces.”

“I can’t let you do that.” The gun shook in her hand. “Harley, no. Please.” As much as she hated the man, she honestly didn’t know in that moment whether she could do the unthinkable and deliberately take a human life. Even if meant saving hundreds of others.

I can’t let him leave. I can’t. As soon as he was far enough away, he’d do it. He’d set off the bomb.

She inhaled through her nose, slowly letting it out through her mouth, the same way Harley had once taught her to steady her aim.

One corner of his mouth lifted in a mocking grin. “Goodbye, Tess.”

My thoughts exactly.

She squeezed the trigger. The blast reverberated, the gun recoiling ever so slightly in her hand.

Harley didn’t move. Then his gray eyes went wide with shock. Slowly, he lowered his head, taking in the hole in his chest—the one directly over his heart.

Blood seeped through his shirt. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, as if he were trying to speak. The light in his eyes dulled, then his body slumped to the ground. Even after he’d hit the pavement, she couldn’t move.

Still holding the outstretched gun, she watched his chest rise and fall as he took his last breath.

Someone was crying. No, not crying. More like the keen of a wounded animal. It was her.

Footsteps pounded. A hand closed over hers—the one still holding the gun.

“Baby, let go of the gun.” Eric? “It’s over. You can let go now.” It took another moment before the soothing tone of his voice and the meaning of his words filtered through to her consciousness. Her heart rate slowed, and the steady beat of her pulse in her ears eased to a dull thud. “That’s it, let it go.”