Page 74 of Ransom for His Secret Son

“No,” Brody immediately snapped. “That puts you too close to Eloise. She might gun you down just to clean up loose ends.”

Remi groaned, cursed. Because he was right. Eloise wasn’t exactly an ally. “Then, what?”

Brody’s eyes darted toward the ground, calculating. “I’ll come out from cover and scramble underneath the cruiser instead,” he said. “When Tarrant shifts to aim at you, you put a bullet in him.”

She was shaking her head before he finished. “You’ve got better aim than I do.” And it was true. After she’d become a cop, she and Brody had done target practice together, and he was by far the better shot.

No way could he dispute that, but his muttered profanity told her that he didn’t like it. Still, the arguing was done. It was go time.

“Okay,” she said, adjusting her grip on her gun. “I’ll get under the cruiser. You do the rest.”

Brody let out a frustrated breath and touched her arm. “You better come out of this in one piece.”

Remi’s lips tilted in a small, humorless smile. “You, too.”

And she prayed that would be true for not only them but Maria and the others as well. While Remi didn’t especially care about Eloise after what she’d done, it was best for the woman to stay alive so she could be arrested and prosecuted. After the nightmare she had created, a bullet from Tarrant would be too quick an end for her.

Remi crouched behind the cruiser door, her heart hammering as she waited for Brody to send the text. He was giving Harlan the order to hold his position, to be ready to take the shot the moment he had a clear one. She had no idea if this was going to work, but they were out of options.

Tarrant’s voice rang out across the site, laced with that same smug arrogance that made her want to pull the trigger herself. “I didn’t get my shot at Eloise,” he called. “I want it now. And if I don’t get it, then Maria will.”

Remi’s pulse spiked. They were out of time.

She sucked in a breath, steeling herself. Then she moved.

The second she dove out from behind the cruiser, Tarrant fired. The bullet slammed into the metal just inches from her, the sound deafening.

“Come on, Brody. Harlan,” she muttered.

Remi stayed out in the open another heartbeat. Then another. That brought two more shots her way. One hit the cruiser, but the second one skipped off the shoulder of her vest.

Too close.

Another inch to the right, and the bullet would have hit her in the neck.

She hit the ground and scrambled toward the undercarriage of the cruiser. Her breath was coming fast and sharp, and her pulse was pounding in her ears, but she heard the next shot.

Remi flinched as another gunshot rang out, louder than the others. Turning her head, she saw Brody upright behind the cruiser door, his gun trained on Tarrant. He fired again.

Tarrant made a garbled sound of pain, a raw, guttural noise that sent a chill through Remi’s blood. The sound of a man dying. But he wasn’t dead yet.

Brody didn’t lower his weapon. “Maria, move away from him,” he ordered, his voice steady, despite the tension rippling off him.

Maria was still sobbing and bleeding, and she stumbled backward at first before finding her footing. She turned and ran toward Brody.

Remi pushed up onto her elbows, ready to move. But then she saw it: Tarrant, still alive, shifting, his fingers tightening around his gun.

He was going to shoot Maria in the back.

Brody saw it, too.

And fired.

The bullet struck Tarrant directly in the neck, and this time there was no question. He went down hard, collapsing into the dirt. His fingers twitched once, then went still.

It was over.

But it wasn’t.