Another man—no, one from before? He couldn’t tell for sure. Max just saw a man in a black jogging suit with a black ski mask, his gun up and aiming—
Max lifted his own weapon. No cover. Shit. “Get to the trees.” He fired at the bastard.
The bullet thudded into the man’s shoulder. Can’t kill him. He knows where Quinlan is.
The man screamed. A loud, long shriek of pain and rage.
Max lunged for the trees and fired again as the ass**le lifted his gun and shot back at him.
“Gunfire!” Luke took off running, aware that the woman with the short blond hair and bright pink jogging suit was right with him. Moving fast, faster… Running toward the thunder of gunshots even as everyone else streaked away in a mass of confusion and fear.
The woman was Sam in disguise, because he’d ordered her in right after Malone and Ridgeway left the house. She kept perfect pace with him as they rushed for the line of trees. They rounded the corner and went in low, sticking to the tree line as much as possible, and Luke saw…
Blood, staining the ground. Ridgeway and Malone weren’t there. No one was there and—
“Here!” A deep, booming voice called from the brush.
“Max,” Sam whispered and raced forward in a flash, snaking through the trees as Luke stuck tight to her tail.
“Secure the area,” Luke snapped into his mike. “We’ve got men down in the first quadrant. The perps are armed. Use extreme caution.”
“Max?” Sam fell beside him.
He blinked at her, shaking his head. “What the hell? You aren’t supposed to be here!”
“She’s an agent with the SSD.” Luke kept his gun up. “She’s wherever we need her to be.”
Blood dripped down Max’s arm in thick, dark rivulets. Sam clamped her hands over his wound. “How bad?”
“Went right through.” Sweat beaded his upper lip. “Just hurts like a bitch.”
“Malone?” Luke questioned the other man. He was kneeling on the ground and hunched forward.
“I’m all right.” Gruff. “Bastard shot at me and would have blasted a hole in my head if Max hadn’t been here.”
Luke noticed both men still had guns in their hands. Holding ’em tight.
“Who are we looking for?” Sam asked as she worked to staunch the blood from Max’s wound. “Who did this?”
“Don’t… ah… didn’t see much… a guy from the looks of things. Maybe six two, two hundred pounds, black jogging suit—”
“Two men wearing all black,” Frank muttered, his knuckles white around the gun. “We gave them the money and they tried to kill us.”
Not part of the MO. What was going down here?
“Get the EMTs here,” Luke ordered, knowing they were already on standby.
Max shook his head. “No, they could still be watching. They’ll see—”
“They know, Max.” Sam’s voice. Tighter and harder than Luke had ever heard before. “When the shots were fired, we ran right over, anyone watching—they know.” Her breath heaved out. “You’re bleeding too much, and it’s not stopping. We have to get you to a hospital.”
“Quinlan—”
“Our priority is you.” She nearly shouted at him. “We don’t have Quinlan here; we’ve got you!”
“I’m all right.” A muscle flexed along his jaw, and Max caught her hands. “I’m not going to be hauled away from here, not while Quinlan is still out there.”
Luke’s gaze swept the ground. Too much blood. Shit. Sam was right. The bullet must have clipped an artery. “EMT, now.”
The park would be insane. Luke knew it. Those gunshots would have sent folks right into panic mode. Chaos would reign as everyone ran.
That would be just what the kidnappers needed. So easy to disappear in the madness.
“Ramirez, tell me you’ve got him!” Luke said. Ramirez wouldn’t have lost his mark. No way. Ramirez never missed his man.
Static crackled in his ear. Then… “I got him.” But those words didn’t come from the earpiece.
They came straight from Ramirez as the agent shoved through the brush. Oh, hell.
“The perp circled back. I stayed clear at first, to see what he was doing…” His dark eyes narrowed. “I had to fire. He had a clear shot at Ridgeway. There was no choice.”
Sam’s breath hissed out. “Where is he?”
“On the ground, about fifteen feet back.” Cold.
“We’re not gonna be tailing him anywhere,” Luke said and cursed beneath his breath.
“Fuck,” Ridgeway growled, and Luke didn’t know if it was because of the pain he was in or because they’d lost a lead.
“The second man—where is he? Where is he?” Luke wrenched the tiny microphone as he fired out his question. Hyde was there. He’d—
“Moving,” came Hyde’s cool voice. “The suspect is driving fast, in a blue pickup truck, heading west.”
Hell, yeah. Calmer, Luke spun away as the EMTs burst on the scene. “I want chopper coverage on this ass**le,” he instructed, knowing the command center was monitoring the line. “Keep him in sight, but stay back. Give me the tag number and let’s track this rat back to his hole.”
“What about Quinlan?” Frank demanded. “Where’s my son? Dammit, is he even still alive? What happened to that other boy? Where is he—”
In pieces. Monica had called to go give Luke the news. He lowered the mike, just for a moment. “Sir, stay with the agents,” he said to Malone. Luke threw a quick glance at Ramirez and Sam. Ramirez nodded but Sam didn’t look away from Ridgeway.
Luke sucked in a quick breath and turned his attention to the civilians. “Until this is over, you’re both remaining in protective custody.” He wasn’t losing either man.
Hyde rattled off the license plate number in his left ear. The techs would have heard it, too, and the APB would be hitting the airwaves—but with the order to stand down. Follow the perp, but no confrontations. Not yet.
“What happened to the other young man?” Frank demanded, voice shaking.
Luke holstered his gun. Malone and Ridgeway deserved honesty. He always tried to give the victims honesty when he could. Even when the truth hurt. “They killed him.” With the way this drop had gone down, Quinlan Malone would be the next to go. If he wasn’t already dead.