The Men With the Golden Cuffs(123)
“I’ll go.” Serena stood and started toward the back door, her legs shaking. The heels were hampering her movements. “Is Lara alive?”
There was a low chuckle from behind her. “No, Serena. Lara is dead. I stuffed her body in the bathroom to be found along with a note from your so-called stalker. Open the door. My partner is outside.”
If she got in that car, she wouldn’t get out of this alive. And she really wanted to be alive. It was so clear now that she was facing that gun. She wanted to live, and she didn’t want to waste another single minute being afraid. Maybe it would all end up going wrong, but she wanted to try.
She opened the door and got ready to run. She fumbled with the doorknob as she stepped out of her shoes. She couldn’t run in them. She would have to go barefoot.
“Open the door, Serena,” Brian commanded. “Get a move on. I can shoot her from here.”
Bridget was so still. Was she dead already? Serena thought she saw her chest move up and down, lightly breathing, holding on to life. Chris would find her, or Jake and Adam would come looking and discover Bridget. She still had a chance. And Serena would have to take hers.
She took a deep breath and threw the door open wide, ready to run. She stumbled over a body. God, there was another body. The uniformed officer lay on the concrete, the back of his head a bloody mess. Serena struggled to her feet.
“Hello, Serena.” Doyle stood in the alley, a gun in his hand. “Time to finish up this marriage.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Doyle reached out and pulled at her arm, hauling her close to his body. She felt the press of hard steel against her side. Brian stepped in front of her, a small ball in his hand.
“Open wide, bitch,” Doyle said.
Serena tried to scream, but Brian forced the ball gag in her mouth. He pressed, shoving her back against Doyle.
“Did you kill that cop?” Doyle asked. “We didn’t say anything about killing a cop.”
She struggled but her jaw was forced open. Brian secured the gag. “He’s still breathing, but he’ll have a hell of a headache. And he didn’t see me. All he’ll know is someone hit him from behind and then he woke up to a bunch of dead bodies and one survivor—me. I have to go take care of the loud bitch. I don’t think she’s dead yet. It will be my pleasure to put that arrogant cunt out of her misery.”
Bridget. They were going to finish off Bridget. Serena tried to kick back, but Doyle had her around the neck. He squeezed, cutting off her air.
“Don’t fight me, Serena. I don’t want to kill you just yet. I have to make this look really good.” Doyle started to drag her toward the car. “We have a special place set up for you. You know all those times you wanted me to be a pervert who hurt you? You’re going to get your wish. I’m going to torture you. I’ve been reading up on it, and I think you were right all along. I’m a bit of a sadist, dear. And you’re still righteously disorganized. Did you know I’m still the beneficiary on your life insurance policy? And I recently learned you haven’t filed another will. I told you I would get what belongs to me. And no one will suspect me. I’m with Mother, you see. We’re having a nice long talk at her place in Tyler. Yes, Mother always hated you, Serena. She’s happy to help.”
He’d shoved that damn ball gag in so far. She struggled to breathe. Panic was threatening to overtake her. He started to pull her toward a car she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t Doyle’s sedan, and Brian drove an SUV. They had obviously been planning this together.
She tried to look around the alley. It backed up to another building, but she didn’t see windows or doors. It was quiet in the alley with only two cars parked there and a large trash container. Once they got her in the car, it would take less than thirty seconds to get to the street. Royal Lane was busy. They would disappear very quickly, and Adam and Jake wouldn’t be able to find her.
How was this happening? Just a few moments before, everything seemed open and bright. Now Lara was dead, and Bridget was dying and all because her ex-husband wanted her money. And she hadn’t thought about her will in years. It had been a small thing. They had signed a form Doyle had printed from a legal site on the internet. A very simple will. But it would probably hold up in court.
And they would make it look like the “stalker” had killed them all.
“You think you write great books, sweetheart, but I always was the truly brilliant one. And your so-called agent is an idiot. She gave us the perfect plan. I even bet your filthy, piece-of-crap books will sell better after you’re dead.” He looked back toward the building. “What the fuck is taking him so long?”