Page 63 of Critical Strike
“You think I don’t know that?” Her hip bumped the railing. This was it. Everything would come down to this. She stiffened her spine against the fear threatening to break her. “But Ballard wants me dead. Stop pretending he doesn’t. Stop lying for him!”
“Claire...”
“Have a little courage!” she screamed. “A little integrity! How do you sleep at night, doing what you do for him? You cowards! You filthy, lying, murdering—”
“Enough!”
Arellano’s deep, bellowing voice mixed with the sharp, sudden crack of a gunshot.
Oh, Luke. Help me.
Claire closed her eyes and went over the railing, into the dark water below.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was like watching a horror movie unfold in slow motion. Only this was too real.
Claire’s limp body seemed to float through the air, falling, falling. How could it take so long for someone to fall off a bridge? It wasn’t such a long drop—they’d chosen that particular bridge not only because it sat in an empty area, but because the drop wasn’t so far. Hence, it being a drawbridge, too low for anything to pass underneath without it opening.
He braced himself for impact almost like it was his body about to hit the water. It might as well have been. Claire was his life, nothing less than everything that mattered.
She hit the river with a splash, roughly where they’d worked out her impact. Close to where he was waiting under the bridge. He waited a second before letting go of the dummy dressed in clothes identical to Claire’s, floating it facedown.
He then ducked under the surface, taking hold of Claire before the river’s current pulled her out of reach. She was panicked, struggling against him even though everything was going according to plan. He guided the mouthpiece to her lips, his scuba gear allowing him to breathe underwater. She had to breathe, too.
And she could once she settled down and let him insert the device into her mouth. She clung to him the way he clung to her with all his might. She was safe. She would be okay.
She was, after all, dead.
Well, not exactly. Thanks to the blank Arellano had fired and the dummy Luke had set loose, to Fisher it would look like Claire was out of commission and no longer a threat. With the report coming from both detectives, Ballard would have no choice but to believe she was dead.
Now all they had to do was wait, holding on to each other beneath the water’s surface. He could just make out beams of light shining down from the bridge. Flashlights. Arellano probably wanted to make sure his partner saw the lifeless dummy before it rounded the bend and floated out of sight.
It was a long fifteen minutes, with Luke keeping watch on the riverbank and waiting for the signal. When a bright light flashed from inside the trees, he knew they were in the clear. Brax had been keeping watch and was satisfied that both cars were gone. They’d made sure to leave no trace of Claire in her car. Just the keys, so one of the men could drive it off the bridge and somehow make it disappear.
They’d wipe out all memory of Claire’s existence. At least, that was what Ballard would believe.
Or so they hoped.
Luke pulled Claire to the surface with him where she tore the respirator from her mouth and gulped fresh air. “I can’t believe it worked,” she whispered, her teeth chattering.
“You don’t trust me now, Kitten?” He tried to keep his voice light and teasing. Like it was completely normal for them to take a swim in the river in the middle of the night. For her to pretend she’d been shot and pitch herself off the side of the bridge.
God, how he loved her. Her strength and courage. He wasn’t even sure whether he’d have the guts to throw himself off a bridge, no matter whether the fall had been planned or not.
He held on to her as he swam for shore, where Brax waited with a car and towels. “You were perfect,” Brax whispered, wrapping one of the towels around Claire while Luke pulled off his goggles and slid the oxygen tank off his back. “I told you so.”
“You told me.” Her voice was shaky, though it was clear she was trying to sound cheerful and relieved. And she had every right to be relieved—she’d cheated death.
“Let’s get you back to the house.” Luke guided her into the back seat of Brax’s car, noting the way she shivered until her teeth chattered. He had a feeling there was more to it than feeling chilly, still soaked from the river. He made a point of holding her close while Brax drove, trying to warm her, trying to comfort her.
Sure, she was out of the worst of it. Safe, now that Ballard thought she was dead. That didn’t mean the enormity of what she’d just done wouldn’t hit her from all sides. The thought of what might’ve gone wrong. What if Fisher had fired on her instead? He didn’t have the first clue what was happening, that his partner had gone into business with the enemy to save his wife’s life.
Would she be safe now? Luke hoped so. He didn’t hold anything against the guy for getting himself trapped in the spider’s web. Ballard knew how to choose his prey, how to wrap them up so they couldn’t escape.
“You’re sure they won’t find the dummy?” Claire lifted her head from his shoulder, looking up at him with eyes that seemed a lot bigger than usual.
“They won’t. It’ll end up in the Guadalupe before long, and from there, it’ll sail into the Gulf. It’ll be enough for them to hide or destroy the car, so there won’t be any trace of you lying around. By the time that’s finished, the dummy will be gone for good. Nothing to worry about.”