JENNA RACED THROUGH the parking lot, heading to the rear of the mall where employees left their cars. Clint would never risk getting caught in the maelstrom of panicked shoppers escaping Gibson’s firebombs, he’d make sure his escape route was clear. As she circled around the corner, she spotted movement at the end of the row of cars, near the exit from the lot. A silver SUV with tinted windows. Light from an open door illuminated a man for a split second on the passenger side of the vehicle. Clint. But where was Andre? Already in the SUV? The door slammed shut and the light went out.
“Stop and show me your hands,” she shouted as she ran toward Clint, keeping several cars between them for cover.
“Don’t come any closer,” he yelled back, turning to face her. He raised his hand high so she could see he wasn’t holding a gun. Rather he held some kind of detonator. “I mean it. I’ll blow it all sky high.”
Did he have control of the explosives in the mall, not Gibson? She hesitated. Could she risk it? But he was so close, and she couldn’t let him take Andre as hostage. She skirted the next car, still heading toward Clint.
“Drop it,” she called out.
He laughed. “I really don’t think you want me to do that. I’ll end us both before I go back to prison.”
She couldn’t shoot him, not if the detonator had a dead man’s switch. But she also couldn’t let him go—not when he could still blow up the mall or kill Andre. She kept her pistol aimed on him.
“I’ll kill myself and your partner. You know I’ll do it, Jenna.”
She hated that he knew her name. The way he said it made her cringe, not only in revulsion, but in remembered fear. Fear of when he’d held her captive. Not this time. She wasn’t his victim. She was the one who was going to stop him once and for all, end this and save Andre. She steeled her will and her voice. “Deactivate the device and put your hands up.”
For a moment she thought he was going to comply. He sidled away from the vehicle, raising both hands. But then he spun and flung himself to the ground.
Before Jenna could react, the world exploded in a blast of noise and a rush of wind that knocked her off her feet. Car alarms shrieked all around her—the only sound that could pierce the ringing in her ears. Flaming debris fell from the sky, bouncing from the pavement that she swore was still moving beneath her.
Hands grabbed her and pulled her along the blacktop, away from the flames, and then hauled her to her feet.
“You okay?” someone shouted. Jenna blinked and Morgan’s face came into focus. But she didn’t care about Morgan. Andre. Where was Andre? She stumbled, turning around, and found herself staring into a maw of black, oily smoke and flames. The SUV. Clint had blown up the SUV. He’d been standing right there—had he killed himself along with Andre?
“Andre!” Jenna screamed even though she couldn’t hear her own voice. She lunged toward the blazing car, but Morgan tackled her. They both ended up on the pavement.
“No,” Jenna sobbed. But even she could see that no one could have survived the explosion. “No.”
Clint warned her. Told her what he’d do. And now Andre was dead, and it was all her fault.
Morgan was hugging her, holding her in place as if worried that Jenna would try to leap into the flames. Jenna turned in her embrace, pushing back to give herself room. She raised a hand, used it to wipe her tears, surprised that it came away streaked with blood and mucus, and stared at it for a long moment. Then she stared at Morgan.
It wasn’t Jenna’s fault that Andre was dead.
She slapped Morgan so hard her hand stung with the blow. Morgan, for the only time since Jenna had met her, was caught off-guard, the slap rocking her back against the car behind her. Her eyes blazed, the whites showing around her dark pupils, and she held one hand to her cheek. Then, without saying a word, she climbed to her feet.
“Where are you going?” Jenna spat the words with all the venom and pain that pulsed through her veins. Somehow she was standing as well, even though she didn’t remember exactly how she’d gotten there.
Morgan’s gaze raked the parking lot, ignoring the burning SUV. “I’m going to find Clint. I’m going to find him, and then I’m going to kill him.”
“You idiot!” Jenna was screaming and didn’t care. “Clint’s dead—he just blew himself up, along with Andre.”
Morgan frowned. Uncertainty danced across her face. Jenna might have even enjoyed seeing her flustered if the circumstances had been different.
“No,” Morgan said slowly. “No. He wouldn’t kill himself.”
“He would if the alternative was going back to prison. He’s dead. And he took Andre with him.”
“Maybe…” She shook her head. “No. We need to find the truth.”
She walked away, vanishing into the smoke. Leaving Jenna alone.
Chapter 27