Jameson pressed his index finger to his lips, then crept stealthily toward Tripp’s place. “Check the apartment across from Ashley’s,” he whispered. “Let’s cover all bases.”
“You think she’s in my place?” That made no sense.
“I think she’s still on this floor.”
Okay then. Tripp shut down his need for revenge and followed Jameson’s calm lead. He didn’t know who lived across the hall from Ashley. Had never cared. He did now. He leaned his ear against that door, praying for some sign that she was still alive. A whimper. A thud. Any damned thing!
Nothing. He swallowed hard, his hand to the doorknob as all those gruesome crime scene photos flashed through his mind. Bowing his head, he finally realized how much he stood to lose, that he might never see Ashley alive again. That he might’ve already lost her.
‘Not Ashley,’ he prayed silently. ‘God, I... I love her. I do. If you’re as good as my mom believes you are, then save Ashley!’
With one hard kick, Tripp was inside what turned out to be an empty apartment. He made a clean sweep through the wide-open floor plan. Found nothing.
Back in the hall, Jameson crouched at Mrs. Harrison’s door, his ear flat against the wood. He’d just beckoned Tripp forward when another hand landed on Tripp’s shoulder. Alex wax there. Tucker Chase, Eden, Ky, Isaiah, and Tate stood behind him.
“Damned elevator’s out,” Tuck groused.
“Quiet!” Tripp hissed. “Fucker’s still here. He just wanted us to think it was out.”
Eden whispered, “Any reason why Ashley’s in your spare bedroom closet?”
Tripp’s heart stuttered. “Thank fuck!” he hissed, at last believing in psychics. “You can’t read the killer, but you can read Ashley? Is she okay?”
He and Jameson stepped away from Mrs. Harrison’s door.
“Yes, she’s bleeding, but she’s pissed off, too. She’s got a club, Tripp, and right now, she fully believes she’s going to die. That she’s got nothing to lose. He hurt her, but she hurt him first. She’s thinking of beating him to death the first chance she gets.”
Tripp did a neck-snapping double-take. “My Ashley?” My timid, little Ashley? Yeah, okay, so he’d just outed himself, and he’d seen Alex’s sharp eyes widen when he did. But who cared? Not Tripp. He had a woman to save.
“Yes, your Ashley,” Eden piped up evenly. “We have to do this carefully. We still can’t read him. We don’t know what he’s doing right now. What if he’s prepared to die? What if he has a bomb in there or a boobytrap?”
Tripp hadn’t thought of those scenarios.
“He doesn’t,” Jameson answered. “This man’s in over his head this time, and he knows it. Last night’s murder was a panic kill. He had a plan, and Tommy McMurray got in his way. Our guy over-reacted and lashed out when he should’ve taken a step back and rethought his strategy. If he thinks he’s cornered now, then this is his finale. His swan song. He won’t be taken alive.”
Tripp didn’t like the sound of that. “You think he’d blow himself and Ashley up?”
Eden shook her head very deliberately, side to side. “No, Tripp. From what I’m sensing in Ashley’s mind, this guy wants you to suffer first.”
“Why? I don’t know him.”
“Then why’s he in your place?” Tucker asked.
“How the hell would I know?” Tripp looked to Eden for that answer.
“That I don’t know, but Ashley’s afraid what he might do to you and your mother. That’s why she’s going to confront him.”
“He wants you to watch while he hurts Ashley,” Jameson added. “That’s where he gets his power. He believes hurting women makes him a man. He believes he’s still in charge, that he’s all powerful.”
“Which he sure has been,” Tucker groused.
“Until now,” Alex said. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet.
Tripp turned to his boss, a USMC scout sniper of legendary skill. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Elite teams who’d worked together for too many operations were oftentimes linked with an uncanny sixth sense that put them on the same wave-length and made words unnecessary. Only Tripp hadn’t worked closely with this legend yet.
But Alex had picked up on Tripp’s intention. His cell phone was already in his hand. “You or me? Your call.”
“You. I’ll give you fifteen to get over there and set up.” Because I need to be the first one in. I need to save my girl!
“Only need seven.”
Tripp dug his earbud and cell phone out of an inside jacket pocket. “Then seven it is,” he said as he set the timer on his cell and tucked his earphone in his ear. “Sync in three, two—”
“Done.” Alex returned his cell to his jacket pocket and placed an earbud inside his ear.
“Stay frosty, Boss,” Tripp told Alex. And please be as good as everyone says you are.
Again, with the stoic head nod. Alex left the way he’d come. Like a deadly, quiet ghost.
Tripp huffed a hard breath through his nose, his composure rattled. This was it, then. Ashley’s life was on the line. Stepping up to his door, he inserted his key, not assuming anything and needing to make sure it worked. Nothing happened. Tripp tried again, pushing into the door, as if more weight would do the trick. “Shit. Something’s blocking my door.”
Damned if the only blind man on the floor didn’t step forward and ask, “What do you need?”
“You got any C-4 breach charges on you?”
Jameson’s head kicked back. “You sure think I work miracles, don’t you?” he asked quietly.
Tripp gave it to him straight. “Fuck yeah, brother. I know damned well you do.” He fluttered his fingers. “Just need one. Hand it over.”
The grin that cracked Jameson’s face was priceless. More so when he tugged what looked like a small black container out of an inner jacket pocket and produced a neat cube of the off-white plastic explosive. “I’ve got blasting caps and det cord, too,” he murmured as he produced the rest of
