Guilt ripped through her, as powerful as any contraction, but she forced herself to keep moving. Away from Ava, away from the danger. She cupped her hands around her distended stomach. No way was that psycho getting hold of her baby. Suzanna would kill Mal as soon as the baby was born. She knew how these lunatics worked.
If only she had a gun, but this stupid dress and lack of a waist meant she hadn’t worn one. Plus, she’d been going to an engagement party for a governor for heaven’s sake. She should have been safe. She walked through the woods, parallel to the road, each gunshot behind her making desperation crawl along her nerves.
Alex would come. Mal needed to have faith and hold on to that knowledge and pray her baby, and Ava, survived.
Another contraction hit, dropping her to her knees. Agony ripped through her, and she bit down on a scream. Any noise and Suzanna would find her and kill her and steal her baby.
Not happening.
Another gunshot.
She jolted. Damn. But a distraction might save Ava…
Mallory felt as if she were being torn in two both physically and mentally. But this baby was coming, ready or not, and Mallory could only fight one battle at a time.
She spotted an upturned tree, its jagged roots towering into the air. She staggered onwards barely able to move more than a couple of inches per step because of the pressure growing between her legs. Hidden behind the massive roots was a grassy area where she lay down out of sight.
Her improvised birthing plan involved less pillows, more insects and a whole lot less pain medication.
Another contraction pressed down on her, and she lay there panting, forcing herself not to push as it couldn’t be time yet. Her fingers closed around a short piece of wood in the grass beside her, and Mal clamped it between her teeth and bit down on the whimpers that wanted to emerge from her throat.
The baby wasn’t here yet, but it wouldn’t be long. If Suzanna found her before Alex did, she was dead.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Dominic and Alex pulled up beside a black sedan abandoned on the side of the road with three doors thrown wide open. They both had their guns drawn.
A gunshot off to the right told Dominic Suzanna Bernier was nearby. Alex checked his phone. “Mallory is that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction, looking torn.
“Go. Make sure Mallory and the baby are okay. I’m going to get Suzanna’s attention. Cavalry is on the way.” He’d spoken to agents from the WFO. Their SWAT team was fifteen minutes behind them. They’d discovered Suzanna Bernier owned her own private jet at a nearby airstrip and agents were also en route to make sure it stayed grounded.
Dominic didn’t think about Ava being hurt or dead. If he fell into that train of thought he’d never survive. Never have a second chance at fully living his life rather than this highly controlled, emotionally stunted effort he’d been deluding himself with.
Alex jogged off in the opposite direction. Dominic prayed Rooney was alive and their baby safe.
“Suzanna!” he cried as he pushed into the woods. A crow took off from a nearby branch, and Dominic’s heart screeched in his chest. Fuck.
The sound of movement drew him east, keeping close to the road. He scanned the forest for some sign of them, spotted a trail where the grass had been flattened, possibly by the heavy material of a formal gown. The bright lavender color should be easy to spot in this environment. Too easy.
He moved swiftly, using trees for cover as much as possible. Ava’s high heels were tossed behind a tree. Then the glittery evening purse she’d been carrying.
The incongruousness of sequins and tuxedos in a woodland setting was not lost on him. How could a glitzy party turn into his worst nightmare in the space of thirty minutes?
That’s what evil people did. Destroy things. Destroy happiness, destroy people. Although he’d done some destroying of his own when he’d let Ava leave, and he’d never forgive himself for getting her into this mess. For letting her down when she’d needed him most.
If only Ava had had her gun…but who knew what Suzanna had done to gain control of the women. If she’d threatened Rooney then Ava would have gotten rid of the gun anyway. The director was still an asshole. The women must have heard him shout when he arrived, surely, so where were they? He saw a flash of movement in his peripheral vision to the left. He headed swiftly in that direction, probing the woods for any sign of Ava in her pale purple dress. He sucked in a harsh breath when he saw blood on the ground. It had to be Ava’s. She’d been hit. He took a fraction of a second to reassure himself that if she wasn’t lying here dead then she was okay.
“I’m the one you want, Suzanna. Get back here and finish what you started. Revenge for me killing that asshole Peter.”
She shrieked, insanity ringing in the echoes. “You shouldn’t even say his name!”
Looney-fucking-tune. “Peter Galveston? That name?”
A flash of lavender appeared behind all the green, and he held his breath as two people pushed their way through the bushes towards him. Ava—alive, thank god—and behind her, Suzanna Bernier.
The fact Ava was still breathing was a gut punch of relief. The gun pointed at her head was less positive, as was the way her left arm hung limply at her side, crimson blood soaking her pretty dress.
The usual techniques for negotiation might not work here. There wasn’t the time needed to build the rapport that might eventually get Suzanna to stop killing the woman he’d stupidly gone and fallen in love with. And if Suzanna found out how much he cared for Ava, she’d kill her all the sooner.
But even as his heart lurched in anger at the realization Suzanna had hurt Ava, his head told him to try. To slow it down. To diffuse the drama. To give time, time. To find out the ‘why’ behind her actions. Knowledge was power. The SWAT team were on the way and hopefully Alex Parker had taken Mallory to safety.
“You loved him,” he said. “You must have been devastated when you lost him.”
She made a sound like an animal being snared. “I didn’t lose him. You murdered him!” She shoved Ava ahead of her. Blood dripped from her hand. Too much blood.