Page 97 of Night Prey
Ian sighted his scope on the man’s chest, the red dot over his heart.
Flagg looked down at his chest, and his mouth dropped open. He threw down the knife and ran, charging up to the house. Ian wouldn’t shoot a fleeing man in the back, but he couldn’t go after him either. Not from the basket.
“Bring in the cavalry!” he said into his mic to Londyn.
“Roger that,” Londyn said, and he heard her give the order for the others to move.
Sirens sounded from the road. Ian prayed the officers or Londyn arrested Flagg. Because right now, Ian had only one thing in mind. He had to get to Malone.
Had she been stabbed? Was she bleeding out?
Malone was alive. Flagg didn’t stab her.
Thank You! Thank You!
So close. It had been so very, very close.
She wanted to get up but her legs lost all strength. Her heart was racing, and she panted to catch her breath and blow out her fear. Her clothes were saturated from the rain that was now receding, making them heavier.
The second she felt stronger, she climbed to her feet. She’d heard Ian’s voice come out of the sky. But how? On her feet, she spotted the lift carrying him up to the patio.
Ingenious. And even more impressive that Ian figured out how to find her.
The basket came up close, and he jumped out the door onto the ground by the deck, his rifle strapped to his back.
He climbed over the framing to get to her, his gaze alert. “Are you hurt?”
“No, but another minute more, and I might’ve been dead.” She shuddered.
Ian let out a long breath and enveloped her in a hug. She clung to him, inhaling his unique scent, reveling in his touch. Her legs felt like rubber, and she wanted to sit, but she needed his touch more than a chair.
“I’m alive because of you,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.
“Flagg could circle back once he sees the officers,” he said, when all she wanted was for him to hold her. “I need to get you into the basket. We’ll continue this when he’s in custody.”
She nodded her understanding. She would agree to anything, but she was too overwhelmed with gratitude to continue talking.
“I’ll update Londyn.”
“Malone’s unhurt,” he said in his mic. “Report when Flagg’s in custody.”
“Roger that.”
Ian escorted Malone to the basket that the operator had settled on the patio framing, the door facing them. Ian helped her climb aboard with a tight hold on her arm and a gentle hand resting on her back.
His touch ignited her ability to overcome the weakness in her legs and keep going. She moved to the back of the basket and held on while Ian climbed in.
Her eyes widened. “I thought you would go after Flagg.”
“I wouldn’t leave you unprotected.” Ian closed the basket. “We’ll be down before you know it.”
He motioned to the guy operating the lift, and he lowered them. “Full speed again.”
The man got the lift moving. The jolt unsettled Malone, and she hung onto the cold rail. The basket backed up and lowered faster than she’d have guessed it could move. Ian stood, rifle in hand, scanning the area.
“Flagg was really going to kill you?” the construction worker asked.
Now that Malone’s adrenaline was subsiding, anguish over her near death clogged her throat, and she nodded. Her leg muscles nearly failed, and she worked hard to stay standing until they reached the ground.
