was dead. DJ said he’d killed three people here. The third wouldn’t be Coleen, the healer. Her body had been found in her bed at Sunnyside. Best guess was asphyxiation. There was bruising on her neck in the pattern of the chain that held her locket. At some point, DJ had dragged her by it.
Like he was doing with the top of Liza’s scrubs right now. Her mouth was open, her fingers clutching at the fabric pulled tight around her throat. And Tom remembered his mother doing the same as his father dragged her for some imagined infraction. Fury rose, but instead of clouding his mind, it made his focus singularly clear.
You are going to die, motherfucker.
“Back off!” DJ screamed. “I mean it.” He dragged her toward the edge of the ravine, Tom and Croft matching him step for step.
Liza had been fairly docile, but that changed. She began to fight DJ, her gaze darting to her left. To the edge of the ravine, which was too damn close.
She couldn’t breathe. Tom could see that she couldn’t breathe.
She whipped her body to the right, away from the edge, and Tom saw something else. Something he hadn’t seen as he’d driven up. A blade protruded from DJ’s shoulder. Tom recognized it as the ceramic blade Raeburn had provided and now realized that this was how she’d gotten control of DJ’s gun before they’d arrived.
His Liza was one hell of an amazing woman.
Tom moved so that he was in her line of sight and tapped his left shoulder. Twisting her weight that way was counterintuitive because it put her too close to the edge, but it was the only way to get DJ to let her go so they could get a clear shot.
Liza bobbed her head once in acknowledgment, then threw herself backward into DJ’s left shoulder, shoving the protruding blade deeper.
DJ screamed, the sound wild and shrill. Like that of an animal.
His grip on Liza loosened and she dropped and rolled.
Tom’s heart stopped. She’d rolled with the momentum of her leftward motion and was skidding toward the edge of the ravine. “No.”
From there, everything happened so slowly that it felt like a dream and so fast that he struggled to keep up. Tom dove for Liza, grabbing her ankle, stopping her momentum. She hung over the side, her head pointed straight down.
Croft fired and Tom heard DJ stagger and fall.
“Drop the gun,” Croft ordered, but DJ ignored her.
Tom heard the pop of a suppressed bullet the moment that it hit him in the ribs. More correctly, it hit the Kevlar vest he wore beneath his suit.
“Fuck,” he ground out, forcing his hand to grip Liza’s ankle harder when his first reflex had been to let her go.
Behind him, Croft cried out in pain as she hit the ground.
Tom turned his head to see DJ crawling toward him, his expression filled with hate. “You thought you won?” DJ taunted. “You didn’t.” DJ went up on his knees, his gun pointed at Tom’s head.
Liza was squirming, trying to lever herself back onto solid ground.
“Liza, stop.” She immediately stopped struggling. She trusted him that much.
Tom had dropped his gun when he’d reached for her, and it was trapped under his body. He could reach for it, but he’d have to let her go. Which wasn’t going to happen.
He could hear Croft’s quiet groans but didn’t know if she was all right. From where he lay, prone on the ground, all he could see was Liza in front of him and DJ to his left.
And then, finally, the sound of helicopter blades filled the air.
DJ looked up for a second, but it was enough.
Tom rolled right, grabbed his gun with his left hand, and . . . hesitated. He was aiming for DJ’s head, but that . . . That was rage and would deprive DJ’s victims of their justice.
And that’s not me. Adjusting his grip, Tom shot him in the right shoulder instead, firing three bullets in quick succession.
DJ dropped to his knees, screaming. Partly in pain, Tom thought. Mostly in fury. DJ had dropped his gun and dove for it now. When he twisted around, he held the gun in a two-handed grip and pointed it at Tom’s hand, still clutching Liza’s ankle. “She’s going to die and you’re—”
Tom fired again, striking DJ in the chest as another shot came from his right. Croft. DJ fell backward, blood spreading across his torso. And from the hole in his head.
He was finally still.
Tom