The Cape Refuge Collection by Terri Blackstock

Author:Terri Blackstock [Blackstock, Terri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780310342687
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2014-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 70

Jonathan flew behind Agent Tavist’s car to Savannah, then detoured to the Third Precinct to pick up Morgan. He ran inside and found her, pacing in front of the glass doors and crying hysterically.

He threw his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, Jonathan! So sorry!”

“Let’s go,” he said. He pulled her back out to his truck, and they took off for Ann Clark’s house, hoping to stop Blair before she got herself killed.

CHAPTER 71

From his bed, Cade heard Blair’s voice screaming out his name.

Ann had left the door open as she’d dashed out of his room. He heard crashing glass, breaking furniture, Blair’s screams ripping through the house.

Cade pulled himself off the bed and lunged for the door. Pain exploded through his body, but he got out into the bigger basement room.

He heard another crash, Ann’s cursing, Blair’s frantic voice—

He fell at the bottom of the stairs. Sweat covered his face and neck, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. He pulled himself up one step after another, only able to use his good leg.

“Please, Lord, help me,” he whispered. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

One by one he made his way up the steps, pain bolting through him with each shove of his body upward. He got to the top of the stairs and looked up the hall. Broken things and toppled furniture bore witness to what he had just heard, and he heard more scuffling in a room just off the hallway. Holding onto the wall and gritting his teeth in pain, he managed to drag himself along.

He heard a siren outside, saw headlights through the windows, but he didn’t have time to wait for the cops. He reached the doorway.

Ann Clark was on top of Blair, choking the life out of her. Blair’s scars were purple, and her eyes were bulging. He saw the gun lying on the floor where Ann had dropped it just out of either of their reach. He kept his eyes on it, moving toward it as pain sliced through his nerve endings, shards of bone piercing tissue and muscle. . . .

He was going to black out. He turned and saw Blair losing the fight.

The gun still lay there. He got himself over it, grabbed it. . . .

They were too close together—and his hands weren’t steady. The danger of hitting Blair was too great. But Ann’s hands clutched Blair’s throat.

His finger closed over the trigger, and he fired.

Ann Clark fell away.

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