Layla was torn. Was she just being played again? Did Scarlett actually care about her?
“Layla, you know I don’t have any family. Everything I told you about my past is true. You’re like my little sister.”
“But when push came to shove, you still chose yourself over me. Just like Bryce. Two people I thought I could count on have sold me out and left a trail of destruction in their wake.”
“But will my death do anything to solve all of that? It won’t bring anyone back.” Scarlett’s bottom lip started to quiver. “We don’t have time to debate this, Layla. Diego’s men are probably on their way here right now. They’ve had a team stationed down the street since the Honduras op because Diego wanted to make sure I played by the rules. My house is under twenty-four-seven video surveillance.”
“And you’re just telling me this now?” Layla tried to think of the best way out of this. She didn’t know what to do. Was Scarlett bluffing? Was the cartel really on their way to finish the job? She knew she wouldn’t kill Scarlett, but would she detain her? That was the right thing to do, even though Layla was tempted to let her go. In the end, she had to go with her gut and follow the path that was right. They’d leave, but she wouldn’t let Scarlett go. Her friend had made bad choices, and she had to be held accountable. “Scarlett, I’m so sorry.”
Before Layla could say anything else, gunshots filled Scarlett’s living room. Instinctively, she dove behind the couch and hit the floor, trying to protect herself from gunfire, her weapon at the ready.
The gunshots paused. She peered around the edge of the couch and saw that Scarlett had been shot in the head. Her body lay on the ground, and blood pooled around her skull. Her eyes were open but vacant.
Two men raced into the room. Layla raised her weapon to return fire, but behind them she saw Hunter with her security detail on his heels. One of the attackers fell to the ground. Hunter had shot him in the leg. Another round of gunshots and the other man was hit in the shoulder, and he collapsed.
Hunter rushed over to her. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She looked at the men groaning in pain. “We need to secure them and then call reinforcements.”
“I already made the call.” Hunter jumped up and the security detail secured the attackers.
Layla walked over to Scarlett and crouched down beside her. She checked for a pulse even though she knew it was an act of futility. The tears fell freely as she stared at her friend’s dead body. She couldn’t begin to deal with how she felt, so she sat on the floor and prayed, because she didn’t know what else she could do.
It wasn’t long before the room was swarming with an alphabet soup of agents.
She stood in the corner with Hunter close by. “I can’t believe this. I just can’t.”
“If I’d been only a second later . . .” Hunter said, his face still filled with fear for her.
“Don’t even go there. You made it in time.”
“They appeared on foot out of nowhere right when I pulled up. And I just knew I had to get inside and stop them.”
She put her hands on his shoulders. “And that’s exactly what you did.”
“What happened with Scarlett?”
She quickly recounted their difficult conversation. She still couldn’t believe that Scarlett was gone forever. “She was trying to convince me to let her go. She said that the cartel would kill her, and she was right.”
Hunter nodded. “Scarlett made bad decisions.”
Layla looked up at him, fighting back tears. “I did consider letting her go. Just for a minute. I wanted so desperately to believe that she was telling the truth. That she had tried to protect me as long as she could.”
“And it’s possible she was telling the truth. But when it came down to it, she put herself first.”
“That’s not true friendship.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not. It’s selfish, and she’s the one who put you in harm’s way. But you cared about her, and she cared about you.”
Layla sighed. “I’m going to need some time to work through this.”
He pulled her close. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Me neither.” Their eyes locked, and even in this darkest of moments, the promise of the future hung between them.
A knock on Izzy’s door late Sunday night made Aiden jump up from the couch.
“We are both on edge right now,” she said.
“This case is making us crazy,” he responded.
“Let me see who it is.” She walked over to the door and groaned when she saw Detective Stewart on the other side, but there was no use in hiding.
She opened the door. “Detective Stewart, what can I do for you?”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” It wasn’t like Izzy was going to slam the door in the detective’s face. She led her into the kitchen, where Aiden was now standing. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
Detective Stewart shook her head. “No, thanks. I don’t think this will take very long.”
“More questions?” Izzy tried to keep her frustration in check. “We’ll need to have Piper present.”
Detective Stewart lifted her hand. “That won’t be necessary. I’m not here to question you.”
“Then what?”
“There’s been a major development in the case.”
Izzy’s heartbeat thumped. “What happened?”
“Ann Marie Martinez confessed to killing Sergeant Tybee.”
“What?” Ann Marie had been hiding something, but this was much worse than Izzy had expected.
“We questioned her pretty aggressively—the same way we questioned you. At first she stuck to her story, but after a while, she asked for a lawyer, and then we got a confession. Given the violent circumstances and the self-defense claim,
