Page 66 of Allie's Shelter
She trembled in his grasp, tried not to look at Eva. “Tell me why you did this. To me,” she clarified. “When did you decide to pin all this on me, specifically?”
“This is business. You’ve been a bleeding heart from day one. So easy to manipulate. If I merely mentioned a charitable angle, you would run with any idea.”
She gritted her teeth, knowing he was right.
“Looking around these past couple of days, I understand how it happened. The sidewalks around here roll up by six every night. I’m rather surprised you made it all the way to Virginia without a nervous breakdown.”
Despite the accusation and suspicion, Allie had never thought herself capable of murder. Until right now. With Eva bleeding on the floor for no good reason and Roberts threatening her aunt and the abuse of so many people along the way. For all those patients who would have died for his greed. Something snapped inside her and she wrestled out of his grip as she twisted around.
“You patronizing son of a bitch. You picked the wrong patsy. I made copies of the evidence. I’ll find a way to get the story out there. I have contacts and connections too, Mr. Roberts. Your face will be everywhere. You might get away today, but I won’t quit until someone believes me and hauls you back to pay for your crimes against the public.”
He laughed at her, a dark and evil sound that crawled under her skin. “You can try.” The look on his face was so violent, she nearly cheered with victory. Here was the desperation they needed.
“You’re trapped in here. How do you expect to get away?”
“With my human shield,” he said, jabbing the revolver into her ribs.
She didn’t have to work to bring tears to her eyes. “You’ll regret this.”
“Enough babbling.” He used the gun and his hand on the back of her neck, pushing her out of the office, through the kitchen, and out into the delivery lot. She saw a plain sedan with tinted windows and the county seal on the doors. She nearly cheered in relief. They’d blocked his escape.
“Come along quietly.” He shoved her closer to the sedan she’d thought was her salvation. “You drive. I’ll verify the passwords en route.”
She battled back tears. “You’re a bastard.”
“Thanks for noticing. Soon, I’ll have enough money people will admire my demanding personality.”
That was hardly the confession they were looking to catch on tape. Confirming her worst fear, he trailed a finger down her shirt, following the line of the mic. She knew she was doomed.
“Get in.” He dug the gun deeper into her side when she hesitated. “I can put this bullet in your heart—quick and painless—or your gut. It’s up to you.” He shoved her against the car.
She had no intention of dying today, at any speed. Holding out her hand, she asked for his phone. “I’ll enter the codes. Prove they work.”
“Finally the good girl shows up to the party.”
If she never heard that phrase again it would be too soon. Being a good girl had landed her the lucrative internship that led to her working for this deranged and greedy excuse for a human being.
Being a good girl had meant giving Ross space when he didn’t answer her letters. And being a good girl had meant losing Ross when she’d let good breeding drown out her gut instinct.
No more good girl.
She typed in the password and bank number, giving Bradley access to all his ill-gotten gains. The authorities wanted his confession, but she wanted a slice of revenge for the way he used her and framed her and risked countless lives. Ross would come charging in, she knew it, to prevent his escape. She braced to make her move.
“Have a nice life.” She struggled against his brutal grip, bent on distracting him from his moment of triumph. “You promised to leave me and mine alone now.”
He sneered at her, gave her a hard shake. His eyes were flat and cold and she realized she’d underestimated him again. “I promised that you wouldn’t have to worry anymore. There’s a difference.”
It wasn’t a smile, rather a grimace full of hate. She didn’t have time to wonder, hearing her death knell in the click of the revolver as he pulled back the hammer.
“But first things first.” He yanked her around so her back slammed against his chest and pressed the cold barrel of the gun to her temple.
“Ross,” she whispered.
He couldn’t look any better than a knight on a white stallion, even half hidden by the corner of the building. He was there, his weapon trained on Bradley. She was ashamed of herself when the tears of relief spilled over and rolled down her cheeks.
She had to find a way to give him the advantage before more bullets started flying. “Leave,” she told Bradley. “No one cares about you.”
“Ah, but they care about you. Which makes you my ticket to freedom.”