Evidence of Passion (Shadow Agents 7)

So convenient...it even had a silencer attached.

Billy slumped to the floor. Jack put the gun to his head. “Did you truly think you were going to be able to double-cross me?”

Billy had busted his lip when he’d careened into the safe. Blood dripped from the wound.

“I’ve been at this game a long time now. You aren’t the first to have this idiotic idea.” Jack shrugged. “But guess what happens to people who try to play me.” His fingers tightened around the trigger.

Billy shook his head, frantic. “I wasn’t going to shoot you! It was just for protection, just in case—”

“In case a killer came calling?” He wasn’t in the mood to waste any more time. “Goodbye, Billy.”

“No!”

Just as Billy screamed, a loud pounding echoed through the house—a pounding against the front door of Billy’s home.

Billy’s eyes bulged. “Help me!” he screamed as he lunged to the side. “Help—”

Jack fired.

Chapter Four

“Help me!”

Dylan’s gaze jerked to meet Rachel’s when he heard the scream, then they moved as one, and they kicked in the door to William Harris’s home.

Dylan heard the thud of footsteps, running fast and to the left, going toward the back of the house. He raced ahead, following that sound, and he nearly tripped over the body on the floor.

One glance and he knew it was William Harris. The guy looked just like the photo that had been sent from the EOD. Only in that photo, William hadn’t been bleeding from a gushing wound in his chest.

Rachel knelt on the floor, moving in close beside the injured man. Dylan heard her calling for backup and ordering an ambulance to the address.

Dylan didn’t think an ambulance would be able to do much good. William’s shirt was soaking with blood before his eyes.

“Tried to...get away...” William’s voice rasped out. “Still shot me...chest...not...head...”

Dylan pinned Rachel with his stare. “You stay with him.”

Her eyes widened. “Dylan, you can’t—”

He couldn’t let Jack get away. Dylan lunged toward the back of the house. Jack only had a lead of a few minutes.

Dylan’s hand slapped against the back door, and the old wood swung open. Dylan jumped onto the narrow patio. His

gaze swept to the left.

He saw a man scaling a fence. Tall, broad shoulders, wearing a baseball cap, jogging shorts and a sweatshirt.

And gloves.

Dylan knew he was looking at Jack. “Stop!” Dylan yelled.

Of course, the guy didn’t slow down for a second. He heaved over the edge of the fence and ran.

Swearing, Dylan pumped his legs and headed for the tall chain-link fence.

* * *

“LOOK AT ME,” Rachel said as William Harris’s blood coated her fingers. The wound was bad. So very bad. The ambulance was en route, but Rachel didn’t think it was going to arrive in time.