Killer Instinct - James Patterson Page 0,34

to get from him, but there was no doubting the sense that he was someone she could trust. That was the point, right? It was why she’d been sent his way. Gorgin could help her.

For a moment, she even stopped watching his hands.

Oh, shit. No!

No-no-no-no-no!

CHAPTER 40

EVERYTHING HAPPENED at once. The worst things usually do.

The sound of the kettle whistling suddenly pierced the room, drawing Elizabeth’s eyes to the stove just long enough that she didn’t immediately see Gorgin’s right hand reach under the dish towel by the sink. He was already whipping his arm around toward her before she could reach for her holster.

There was no catching up; he’d outdrawn her. There was no getting out of the way; he was too close.

This is how I die.

Elizabeth watched the barrel of his gun line up with her chest. All that was left for him to do was pull the trigger.

But the barrel kept moving.

She hadn’t heard the front door opening down the hallway. She hadn’t heard the footsteps. And she definitely hadn’t seen the man with the thick black beard entering the kitchen with an AK-47 trained at her head. But Gorgin had.

Now he pulled his trigger.

He got off two rounds. Maybe three. He only needed the first. It was a perfect kill shot to the carotid artery.

The bearded man spun from the impact, his neck wildly spurting blood as he shifted his aim off Elizabeth and onto Gorgin. He was falling to the ground, his legs collapsing underneath him. Maybe he squeezed his trigger. Or maybe his finger just twitched. Either way, his AK-47 sprayed a line across the kitchen as he came crashing down with a thud.

Elizabeth looked at him by her feet and then up at Gorgin, their eyes locking as they’d done before. His stare said it all. She didn’t need to see the two holes in his chest, the dark redness oozing and spreading across the front of his hoodie. She knew how badly he was hurt.

Elizabeth sprang from her chair as Gorgin fell to the floor, gasping for air as he rolled onto his back. He was losing too much blood, too quickly.

Grabbing the dish towel from the counter, the one that had concealed his gun, she tried to clamp the entry wounds, only the blood kept coming. It wouldn’t stop.

Gorgin could barely speak but he wanted to. He needed to.

“The house,” he said, his lungs wheezing. There was more to the sentence, only he couldn’t finish it. He blinked a few times as if trying to gather his strength. “The house … it’s wired.”

“I know,” said Elizabeth. “You told me. They’re listening.”

Gorgin reached up, his hand flailing as he tried to grab her arm. “No,” he said. “The house is wired.”

CHAPTER 41

WHAT GORGIN meant hit Elizabeth almost as fast as the smell.

She first thought a stray bullet had pierced the stove and somehow triggered the gas. Except the smell wasn’t coming from the stove.

She looked up. Oh, Jesus. It was so thick she could literally see it. The gas was pouring out from the air duct in the ceiling.

Chemistry 101. The bomb ignites the gas, which levels the house and everything in it. There’s no evidence to be had. Or witnesses.

“We need to get the hell out of here,” said Elizabeth. She started to slide one hand under Gorgin’s back, another under his legs. Could she even lift him? She had to try.

“Don’t,” he said. “There’s no time.”

“I’m not leaving without—”

“Go.”

Elizabeth coughed, her lungs burning. She could barely breathe. It was now or never.

He had saved her life. There was no way she wouldn’t try to save his.

“Okay, here we go,” she said, steadying herself to lift him up. “We can do this. Just stay with me.”

She was so focused on his body, so consumed with mustering the strength to carry him, that she didn’t see his eyes. They were still staring at her, but it wasn’t the same. There was nothing behind them. He was gone.

“Go,” he’d told her. The last word he would ever speak. Go.

Elizabeth pushed herself up off the floor, stumbling as she began to run. She sprinted from the kitchen, the front door straight ahead down the hallway. On a dime, though, she stopped and looked back behind her. There was no time, she told herself. She did it anyway.

Are you crazy? Are you insane? What are you doing?

Elizabeth raced back to the bearded man in the kitchen. His gun would have his fingerprints. Better yet, was he