The One Who Got Away (Wilde Ways #12) - Cynthia Eden Page 0,23

his startled—then furious—expression.

Made. “Uh, yeah, something you overlooked with your simple plan,” she snapped. “He just recognized me from earlier, and I don’t think he’s in the mood for a fun little chat.”

The target ran for his Corvette. Antony and Ella gave chase. They flew over the broken pavement as they rushed after him.

“Stop!” Antony shouted. “I want to talk to you, dammit! I want—”

Bam.

At the sound of the first gunshot, Ella stopped racing after the target. Instead, she turned and threw her body against Antony’s. She collided hard into him, just as she’d done before when she thought he was being threatened.

Bam.

Another gunshot blast. She and Antony were already on the ground, hidden behind a pick-up truck with extremely large tires. She straddled Antony even as she grabbed for her weapon.

“Ella, what in the hell?” Antony glared up at her.

“Stay down.”

“No damn way. I am not—”

She lowered her face to his. “Bullets, Antony. Someone was shooting at you. Keep your ass down.”

“But our perp is getting away!”

“Not on my watch.” She gave him one more don’t-move glare, then she took off.

“Ella!” His shout followed her, but it didn’t slow her down.

She was checking the scene. Looking for the shooter. Trying to get eyes on the target and—

Ella sucked in a sharp breath. She ran for the Corvette.

“Ella, what the fuck! You need cover!” Antony blasted—from right behind her.

He’d followed her? She hadn’t heard even a rustle of his footsteps. “Get down!” Ella snapped at him as she fell to her knees beside the Corvette—beside the man who was on the ground, bleeding out from the two gaping holes in his chest. “Call an ambulance!” Ella cried out because this was bad. So very, very bad.

The man on the ground—the man who’d been their target—was struggling to breathe. His eyes were wide. Terrified. His breath panted in and out. Short, shallow breaths.

She searched for the shooter again. Didn’t see him but—hell. A few people had spilled out from the bar. When you heard gunshots, you weren’t supposed to run toward them. These folks had. And, extra wonderful, they were gaping at her as she crouched over a bleeding man with a gun gripped in her hand. She quickly put down the gun. “Call for help!” she yelled. Either one of those people could call for help or Antony could—someone had to get an ambulance to the scene.

Then she heard Antony’s low voice as he talked to someone. He’s getting help.

Ella put her hands onto the man’s chest. His blood immediately seeped through her fingers. As she assessed him, Ella knew there would be no stopping the blood. He was bleeding out too quickly. One of the shots looked like it was dangerously near his heart. His skin had already turned chalk white.

His lips moved. Not with a desperate gasp for breath, but…as if he were trying to speak.

“You need to save your strength,” Ella told him. The people who’d trickled outside were closing in on her. She heard rumbles…

“She shot him.”

“She had the gun. She shot that guy!”

The target’s lips moved again.

Ella put her head closer to his mouth. She was trying to make out what he was saying to her.

“Sh…Shark…”

She thought that was what the man said. Shark. As in…Shark Gaming and Design? “What about Shark?” Ella pushed.

“D…don’t…”

His voice was so weak. So low. Maybe she was imagining what he was saying—

“Trust…” Barely a breath of sound.

“Who shouldn’t I trust?” Ella demanded. Her fingers were soaked with his blood. “You have to tell me more. Why did you try to attack my boss in the street? Why did you—” She lifted her head and realized—he wasn’t going to be answering anymore of her questions. He wasn’t going to be telling her anything.

He was dead.

In the distance, a siren screamed.

Chapter Seven

“I want to see Ella.” Antony sat in the interrogation room and knew that he was severely screwed. “And for the seventh time, she didn’t shoot anyone. I don’t care what the people on scene told you. They came out after the gunfire. Ella did not kill that man.”

The detective—Layla Lopez—pursed her lips and nodded. She’d just returned to the small room after leaving him to cool his heels—or to just play head games with him, whatever—but he spoke before she could come toward him.

He frowned when she nodded. What was up with the nod?

“Security footage from the neighboring business backs up your story. The footage showed you and Ms. Webb as you approached the victim. It also showed Ella