Allison Brennan - The Prey

Bobby took a gun out of his waistband and pointed it at her face.

“Run,” he said, laughing. “ Run !”

John jumped from the car before Agent Thorne stopped and ran down the sloping driveway. There was a crash from inside, and then the door swung open and he saw her.

Rowan. The dim streetlights cast odd shadows on her face; then he realized it was blood. A man loomed behind her and slammed the door shut.

He’s killing her.

Peter was right behind him by the time John reached the door. He turned the knob with his left hand, his gun in his right. The door was unlocked and he swung it open.

“ Run !” he heard MacIntosh scream at Rowan.

“MacIntosh!” John yelled.

Bobby swung around, blood streaming from the side of his head. He had a gun.

Rowan slipped from his grasp and stumbled into the brick fireplace, her head hitting the hard surface with a sickening thud.

John’s heart jumped as he watched, out of the corner of his eye, Rowan fall. He didn’t take his gaze off of Bobby.

“I was going to get you next,” Bobby told him. “Now Lily can watch you die.”

John started to pull the trigger when Peter stepped from behind him.

“No, Bobby.”

“Peter! Get back!” John snapped, trying to block the priest with his body.

A hint of recognition flickered across Bobby’s face. “No. It’s not possible. You’re dead. I saw you.”

“You saw what you wanted to see,” Peter said. “This must end now. No one else needs to die, Bobby. Put down the gun.”

Bobby’s features twisted in rage. John kept trying to maneuver in front of Peter, but the damned priest wouldn’t stop moving.

Rowan moaned from the fireplace as she tried to sit up, and Bobby’s attention momentarily wavered. John rushed him.

Bobby caught sight of the movement and turned, firing his gun at the same time. The force of the bullet struck John’s right arm and his gun flew from his grasp.

Bobby laughed and took two steps over to him. “Now you die. And it’s even better than I thought-Lily Pad can watch her lover die. Oh, Romeo.” Bobby aimed.

“And then him .” He sneered, jerking the gun toward Peter. “You were supposed to be dead!”

Peter stood in the foyer.

“Bobby, stop this insanity. Now.”

Peter’s voice was firm, strong. Rowan opened her eyes. Peter ? What was he doing here? Her vision was blurry, clouded. She fumbled around for something, anything to defend herself with. To defend Peter.

John was unarmed, blood dripping from his arm. Shot. But he was alive. A huge weight lifted from her heart and soul. John hadn’t been killed in the explosion.

Everyone I love dies…

Not anymore. Bobby’s killing spree would end here. Tonight. Now.

“What, preacher man, you going to send me to hell?” Bobby spat out, waving the gun between Peter and John. “Whatever happened to forgiveness?” He barked that cruel, wild laugh he had. It grated on Rowan’s mind, her head pounding, echoing. She shook it, trying to regain her full senses.

Weapon. Weapon. She spotted John’s gun, but she had double vision. She tried to focus, but it was too far away.

“Bobby, you must want forgiveness. You have to be repentant.”

Again, that wild laugh. “You want me to be sorry ? Okay, I’m sorry.” He giggled. “Sorry you were all born.”

Rowan finally felt something solid. Metal. Glancing to her right, she saw she was holding a fireplace poker. She tightened her grasp. She had only one chance.

The two men she loved-John and Peter-would die if she didn’t succeed.

She couldn’t let Bobby win.

Through her failing vision she noticed John moving carefully away from Peter, away from her. She could attack without Bobby’s full attention. And keep his gun away from Peter.

She inched forward.

“Bobby, the FBI has surrounded the house,” John said. “You won’t get away.”

“I have hostages,” he said mockingly. “Worked with your sister, eh? Sorry she had to be blown up, she was kind of cute. Too bad I didn’t have time to screw her.”

Anger spread across John’s face. “She didn’t die,” he said. “She made it. I disarmed your amateur attempt at making a bomb. You failed.”

“You lie!” Bobby pointed the gun straight at John’s head.

Rowan screamed and lunged at Bobby, the poker in her hand.

A gun went off. Bobby’s? Then another shot. A third explosion. Rowan didn’t know where the sounds were coming from; they seemed to be coming from everywhere.

Bobby turned, eyes wide in rage and pain, and fired as she ran straight at him with the poker. A hot flash of pain hit her left shoulder but she kept moving forward. If she failed, John and Peter would die.

The sick sound of the poker cutting into Bobby’s flesh was followed by an inhuman scream. She stumbled and fell on top of him. Each breath hurt her chest.

Large hands pulled her off. She looked up through the haze. “Peter,” she whispered. “Run. I couldn’t…” she coughed and sputtered.

“Shh,” he told her and laid her down gently. His lips moved in silent prayer, but Rowan didn’t know if he was really quiet or if she just couldn’t hear him. He turned to Bobby and made the sign of the cross.

John interrupted Peter. “Don’t you dare pray for him,” he said as he knelt at Rowan’s side.

“He’s dying,” Peter said simply.

“I hope he burns in hell,” John said.

Bobby tried to speak as he clutched the poker sticking out of his stomach. Nothing came out but a gurgle and blood. He sputtered, convulsed, then lay still, his eyes open and fixed.

“John,” Rowan murmured, eyes closed.

“I’m here. Open your eyes.”

“You’re-you’re alive.” Her eyes fluttered open, then closed again.

“Yes. So are you. Peter, call an ambulance.”

“Why-Peter?”

“Roger called him to come out. We didn’t know where you were. Tess is safe. You bought us enough time.” He leaned over and kissed her, his tears falling on her face. He took off his shirt, wincing as the material pulled out of his wound, and pressed it against the gushing hole in her left shoulder.

“I-I thought you were dead. The bomb.” She coughed, her voice weak.

“Stay with me, Rowan. Don’t let him win.”

“I-I-” She coughed again.

“Shh. Don’t talk.”

“The ambulance is on the way,” Peter said as he squatted and handed John towels. John quickly tossed his shirt aside and held the towels to Rowan’s bleeding wound.

Agent Thorne and two other Feds John didn’t recognize were searching the place. One knelt beside Bobby and confirmed he was dead.

“How is she?” Thorne asked, worried.

“She’ll make it,” John said through clenched teeth. She has to. I don’t want to live without her. I don’t know if I can .

“John.” Rowan’s voice was weak, her breathing shallow.

“Shh. Save your strength.”

“I-I love you.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks. “Rowan, you know I love you. Stay with me.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t talk.” Her blood spread under his fingers, but he kept firm pressure on her shoulder. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

She closed her eyes and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. She coughed.

“It’s over, Rowan,” John said. “It’s over.”

Rowan woke up numb and burning at the same time. Her mind was foggy. She tried to open her eyes, but failed. Everything seemed fuzzy and gray. She had to be dead.

Sounds. Beep-beep-beep . A low-level hum. Even breathing. Smells. Clean, antiseptic, sterile.

She tried to speak, but it came out a hollow squeak.