Allison Brennan - The Kill

His fist tightened around the knife that was only inches from her side. Good move, St. Martin .

“ Don’t ,” he warned.

Too late to back out now. “He was bad news, wasn’t he? He hurt your sister. I saw her picture. She was beautiful.”

“He violated her.” Driscoll’s voice was quiet, almost childlike. “He raped her all the time and I couldn’t stop him.”

Olivia glanced at Driscoll. He had a faraway look on his face. Remembering Angel? What he did or didn’t do?

His hand gripping the knife fell into his lap. He stared out the windshield, not focused on her or the car behind them. Carefully, cautiously, she slid her left hand to the bottom of the steering wheel. He didn’t notice.

“When he hurt Angel, it must have made you angry. Frustrated.”

“I wanted to kill him.” He glanced at her and Olivia held her breath. “I would have killed him. I would have killed him if I had the chance.”

“I know. To protect Angel.”

He nodded, his eyes brightening. Did he think she understood him? That she agreed with him? If that’s what it took to get him to let his guard down, she’d follow that path.

“She was a beautiful girl,” Olivia repeated. Driscoll turned to her. “Bruce was a bad man to hurt her.” She sounded like she was speaking to a child, but Driscoll seemed responsive.

“Bruce was mean. He touched her and made her cry. I dried her tears. I kissed her bruises and made the pain go away.”

His gaze drifted out the front window once again.

Olivia braced herself. She would have only one shot at escape. She needed a sharp turn that veered right. No hesitation.

“Angel must have loved you a lot for taking care of her.”

“I wanted to protect her, but I couldn’t.”

“You were just a kid yourself,” she said.

“I would have killed him. I would have,” he repeated, defiant.

Through the trees ahead she saw the turn she’d been waiting for.

Olivia dropped her left hand from the steering wheel and placed it on her lap. The knife was more than a foot from her.

“Why didn’t you kill him?”

Silence. The turn was seconds away. Now or never.

Without braking, she flung open the door and threw herself from the car, rolling. Her first impact with the rocky dirt road knocked the wind out of her and she couldn’t catch her breath. Gunshots echoed around her as she rolled down into the shallow gully.

A sickening crash of metal vibrated in her head.

Zack watched in horror as Olivia fell from the car and hit the ground violently, rolling away. Had Driscoll killed her and thrown her from the car? After her failed escape attempt ten minutes ago, Zack feared the worst.

“Travis!” Quinn shouted.

Zack raised the rifle and aimed at Driscoll’s tires. From the passenger seat, Driscoll was trying to both control the vehicle and move over into the driver’s seat. Quinn drove right on his tail, feet from the bumper. Zack fired, threw back the bolt, fired again. Driscoll’s car swerved left as he overcompensated and drove hard into the gully. The rear end of the police car lifted from the ground, then slammed down.

Zack dropped the rifle and drew his.45. He opened the passenger door and knelt behind the steel shielding, waiting for gunfire.

Had Driscoll been injured? He probably wasn’t dead, but Zack could hope.

He pushed aside the sickening thought that Olivia lay dead up the road.

She wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be dead.

“Travis!” Quinn, in the same position as Zack but behind the driver’s-side door, nodded his head toward Driscoll’s vehicle.

Movement.

Driscoll opened fired through the shattered rear window. Zack and Quinn ducked, then returned fire, but Driscoll was already on the move. He ran down the road, away from them, toward the steep slope to the north. He could lose himself in the woods too easily.

Zack ran after him.

Driscoll ran fast, but Zack ran faster, the image of Olivia slamming into the road burned into his mind. Driscoll suddenly stopped, turned, and raised his gun in one slick move.

Zack was right behind him. He body-slammed Driscoll, knocking the gun from his hand. They rolled down the embankment.

Raw rage flooded Zack’s senses. When they stopped tumbling, Driscoll lay on his stomach. Zack flipped him and held him down with his left hand while he pummeled his face.

No killer had angered and scared him more than this bastard. What he had done to those girls, to their families.

He pictured Jenny Benedict’s small, lifeless body.

Jillian Reynolds’s decomposed body on the coroner’s table.

Olivia held hostage.

Driscoll struggled and Zack used both fists and pounded into the killer’s face, his chest, his stomach. Zack’s breath came out in harsh, ragged gasps. He grunted and swore, but didn’t know what he was saying. He heard someone shout, but didn’t hear the words through the river of bloody rage that flowed in his veins.

He’d never hated anyone more than Driscoll. He didn’t see a man; he saw a monster.

“Dammit, Travis!”

Quinn pushed Zack off Driscoll and he hit the ground with a thud, a rock scraping his back.

He blinked, remembering where he was.

The Cascades. The car chase. Chasing Driscoll.

Driscoll moaned, half conscious. Quinn handcuffed the killer.

“Shit, Zack, you could have killed him.”

Zack stared at his bloody fists. His blood mixed with the killer’s. He rubbed his hands on his jeans over and over, hating what he’d done. The anger that still embraced him had almost turned him into a killer himself.

Making him no better than Chris Driscoll.

He could barely catch his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Olivia.

He jumped up, stumbling as he scurried up the slope.

“Olivia!” he called, running back up the road.

Inner rage turned to bone-numbing fear. If anything had happened to her… no. No . If Driscoll had killed Olivia, Zack would never recover. He loved her. He needed her in his life.

He retraced his steps, passing the crashed police car, Quinn’s sedan. “Olivia!”

He ran around the sharp bend. She lay by the side of the road. Blood soaked her white blouse. Her throat… dear God, he’d slit her throat. Blood smeared her neck, her collar.

Stumbling, he half ran, half crawled to where she lay, not noticing the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Liv, oh God, Liv.”

Then he saw her chest rise and fall. Rise and fall. Gently, he gathered her into his lap.

“Liv?”

He stroked her cheek and her eyes fluttered open.

“Hi.”

Her voice was faint, but a smile curved her lips.

Zack kissed those lips, his tears falling on her face. “Olivia, I thought you were dead. The blood.” He stared at her neck.

“It’s not deep. I’m okay.” She reached up and cupped his face in her hand.

He kissed her again, urgently. She was alive. Whole. He shuddered as his heart rate finally began to slow, holding her tightly in his arms. He didn’t want to let her go.

“Did you get him?” Olivia asked.

“Yes. He won’t hurt anyone else.”

“It’s over,” she murmured into his chest. “Missy can rest in peace.”

“And so can her sister.” Zack stroked her hair, closed his eyes. Olivia was alive. Safe.

The past could finally be buried.

Zack and Olivia went back to the lodge while Quinn stayed at the crash site to help the sheriff process evidence; then he would pick Zack up and take him to the Cascades sheriff’s substation, where they would interview Driscoll.

An ambulance was already at the lodge and Zack brought Olivia to the EMT to be checked out, since she’d refused to go to the clinic herself.