Holding his pistol in a two-handed grip, Hawk leveled the weapon at Bolt’s back and stepped into the bedroom. “Don’t move. Hands in the air or you’re a dead man.” He meant it. Jeremy Bolt was one of most dangerous men in the country. Odds were he wouldn’t give up without a fight.
Bolt slowly raised his hands.
“Easy, now. No sudden moves.”
“How did you get in?”
“Your security system could definitely use an upgrade.”
“If it’s money you’re after, I’ll open the safe and you can take what’s inside.”
Hawk shook his head. “I don’t think so. What I want is for you and me to take a little ride down to the police station, where you’re going to tell the cops who you really are and what you do for a living. You’re also going to confess that you murdered Lee Haines and set his wife up to take the fall.”
Bolt laughed. It was a harsh, high-pitched sound that sent a chill down Hawk’s spine.
“Hands behind your back. Slowly. You don’t want to make me nervous.”
As Bolt moved to comply, Hawk pulled a zip tie out of his pocket. “Move an inch and I pull the trigger.”
Bolt stood stock-still. Hawk looped the zip tie around the man’s wrists, but before he could pull it tight, Bolt whirled and kicked, and the gun went flying. Hawk grabbed Bolt by the front of his T-shirt and swung a blow that sent him crashing into the nightstand. An instant later, the drawer was open and Bolt had a gun in his hand. Hawk dived toward Bolt and gripped his wrist, forcing the barrel into the air.
A shot rang out, then another, raining plaster down from the ceiling. They struggled, fighting for control of the weapon. Hawk was bigger, but Bolt was wiry and in prime physical condition.
The gun wavered, the barrel just inches from Hawk’s throat. Time had run out. Hawk forced the pistol toward Bolt and pulled the trigger, the shot exploding through his neck beneath his jaw, blowing off the top of his head.
Jeremy Bolt lay dead beneath him, blood soaking into the carpet.
Fuck.
He’d wanted Bolt alive. Unfortunately, he’d had no choice. Not if he’d wanted to remain among the living.
As Jase shoved to his feet, he glanced toward the room hidden behind the wall and started in that direction. He stepped through the entrance and froze, unable to believe his eyes.
Evidence was one of the reasons he had come. A guy like Bolt, every kill perfectly planned, no clues left behind—kept a room full of them.
Hawk holstered his Kimber and walked inside. Photos lined the walls, Bolt’s targets as he’d tracked them, then a souvenir of each kill. A trophy to relive his successes.
He spotted Lee Haines’s picture, pinned on the cork board next to a photo of Kenzie. There was a bullet neatly displayed in a small glass bottle, undoubtedly from the revolver he had used to kill Haines and left for the police to find. From the start, he had planned for Kenzie to take the blame.
Hawk had found what he’d come for. Now he had to get the evidence to the police without incriminating himself.
Ten minutes later, he pulled off the road and used his burner phone to call the crime desk at the Shreveport Times. The call went to a reporter on the night desk.
“This is Joe Murphy. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got a story for you, Joe. Be one of the biggest to break in the country this year. If you’re interested, go to 7845 North Lakeshore Drive. You’ll find the body of a hit man named Jeremy Bolt. Uses the alias Martel Ames.”
“Who is this?”
“You’ll also find a room filled with trophies Bolt kept of the kills he made.”
“I need to know who this is. Give me your—”
Hawk hung up the phone. A little ways father down the road, he pulled over again and tossed the disposable into the lake. With any luck, the reporter would do his job and the cops would find evidence that would clear Kenzie’s name.
Equally important, the police would be so busy following up on Bolt’s kills, they wouldn’t spend much time trying to find the guy who had ended him.
And Long Bailey would be safe.
Hawk turned the Yukon toward Dallas. His wife would be waiting. He smiled. It was time to go home.
* * *
It was getting late. Kenzie sat next to Reese’s hospital bed. The doctor had insisted on keeping him overnight for observation. Reese had grumbled and protested, but finally agreed. She had phoned Gran and also talked to Griff, made sure they knew she and Reese were both okay.
While the doctors were examining him, Kenzie phoned Chase, who called Brandon. Less than twenty minutes later, an armed guard arrived and positioned himself in the hall outside Reese’s door.
“Chase is on his way,” the guard said, a big African American named Otis Poole. “He was out of town, but he’s heading back to Dallas. Soon as he gets there, he and his wife are flying down.”
That had been several hours ago. Bran had called and spoken to Reese, who told his brother there was no reason for him to fly all the way from Denver since he was being released in the morning. Bran had reluctantly agreed.
But Chase was closer. Kenzie rose as the door quietly opened and the oldest Garrett brother’s blond head appeared. He walked in with Harper and each of them came over and hugged her.
“Sorry it took me so long to get here,” Chase said. “I was in Austin, meeting with a client. How’s he doing?”
“The doctor says he’s going to be fine. But a piece of wood or metal hit him in the head when the boat exploded.” She had told him some of this on the phone. “They ran a few more tests. He suffered a mild concussion, along with all the salt water that went into his lungs. The doctor wants to make sure there aren’t any complications, but he doesn’t expect there will be.”
Harper reached down and took hold of Kenzie’s hand. “How about you? Are you doing okay?”
“I’m good. Just so grateful Reese is going to be all right.”
“I did some digging after I got your call,” Chase said to her. “You didn’t mention you were the one who pulled him to the surface. Word is you saved my brother’s life.”
Her throat tightened. She blocked the memory of how close Reese had come to dying, the heart-stopping moments of terror. Instead, she managed to smile. “I used to be on the swim team.”
Chase’s hard mouth curved up. “Lucky for Reese.”
“You must have been terrified,” Harper added with such sympathy Kenzie’s eyes filled.
She wiped away a tear with the tip of her finger. “I couldn’t bear to lose him.”