Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Carol Ericson (short books to read TXT) 📖

against the warm metal. Dark eyes glared at her through the holes in his black ski mask. He lowered his voice, nearly pressing his mouth to her ear. She tried to push him back. “I’ve waited a long time for this, Sheriff. I killed the others, but none of their deaths had been personal. Just their punishment for following your orders. Your death—what I’m going to do to you... I’m going to enjoy the memories for the rest of my life.”

“Remi!” Dylan’s voice carried across the parking lot. Her gaze cut to him. The deputy withdrew his weapon, danger in his gray eyes, but didn’t fire. There was no guarantee he’d hit his target. “Let her go. Now.”

“Don’t worry, Cove. I haven’t forgotten about you.” Her attacker pulled his own weapon and fired.

“No!” Remi lunged for the gun, but it was too late.

Dylan clutched his side and collapsed to his knees.

Her scream cut off under the pressure of her assailant’s grip around her throat. The parking lot—Dylan—blurred in her vision as that same hand rocketed her head into the driver’s-side window and the world went black.

HE TOOK HER. The son of a bitch took her.

Dylan compressed a hand over the wound as a swarm of officers surrounded him on either side. Gravel bit into his palm as he forced himself to his feet. He stumbled forward as blood spread across his shirt. He closed his eyes and tried to catalog everything he’d seen. “Male, six-four or six-five, wearing a ski mask, black clothing. I didn’t see what type of gun he was carrying, but the slug in my gut will tell you that.” Pain vaulted through his system and threatened to bring him back to his knees, but this time a set of callused hands held him up.

Captain Elijah Paulson. “Somebody get this man an EMT, damn it, and pull the surveillance footage from that camera! What kind of vehicle, son? I’ll dispatch two patrols now.”

“He took her SUV.” Dylan rattled off the license plate from memory. He holstered his weapon and pulled his phone from his pocket with bloody, shaking fingers then pulled up the app Remi had required all her marshals to install in case of emergency. One step forward. Two. He caught sight of some kind of wiring where the chief’s vehicle had been parked. “Every marshal’s vehicle is equipped with GPS. He knew that.” Dylan nodded toward the collection of wires. “He was waiting for her.”

But the killer wouldn’t kill her outside a police station. He’d take her somewhere else. Somewhere no one would be able to find her. Dylan struggled across the parking lot, his steps growing heavier as he headed for his own SUV.

“Marshal Cove, where are you going? Wait for the EMT. All units, be on the lookout for a black SUV heading north on Eastern. Vehicle is registered to Chief Deputy Remington Barton.” Captain Paulson’s voice phased in and out between his ragged breaths. “Marshal Cove!”

He wasn’t going to wait for the EMT. He wasn’t going to sit here while Gresham PD figured out who to send after her or where to look. From what he’d been able to tell from the files Watson had collected on the twenty-five victims tied to the New Castle Killer case, Remi didn’t have that kind of time. The killer didn’t keep victims for extended periods of time. He killed them as soon as he saw the opportunity and moved on to the next. A growl vibrated up his throat and aggravated the bullet in his side. “No.”

He couldn’t lose her—not again—but he wasn’t going chase after a killer without knowing exactly what he was getting himself into either. He had to think. Dylan ripped open the driver’s-side door of his SUV and collapsed inside. A groan tore from his chest as the muscle shifted around the bullet. Phone in hand, he direct-dialed Finnick Reed. When the marshal’s witness had been taken by a serial killer, Reed had been able to narrow down her location by studying the habits of the man who’d taken her. If anyone knew how to get Dylan to Remi, it would be the former combat medic.

“Reed,” the marshal answered.

“The chief has been abducted by Del Howe’s killer.” Dylan twisted his keys in the ignition and spun out of the parking lot as Captain Paulson and his officers raced after him. He floored the accelerator and steered the vehicle with one hand while he tried to apply pressure to his wound with the other. “She’s injured. I’m not sure how bad, but I need you to tell me where the bastard might have taken her.”

“Wouldn’t hurt you to ask nicely for once.” The echo of keyboard taps filtered through the phone.

“Reed.” Another growl tore from Dylan’s chest as his anxiety over finding Remi in time increased. Frustration formed as he searched traffic patterns for an SUV going extremely faster than the speed limit. The killer had taken a high-ranking marshal. That meant he’d want to get the hell away from the scene as fast as he could, but Dylan couldn’t pick out any vehicle matching Remi’s description. The suspect had already veered off in another direction in an attempt to keep from being followed.

“Calm down. I’ve been studying your guy’s movements since our little meeting back at the office. He doesn’t stay in more than one city very long before moving on to his next victim. This doesn’t seem personal to him. It reads more like a job than anything, but according to Remi’s notes, there wasn’t only one victim here in Portland the killer was targeting. There were three,” Reed said. “Del Howe, Remi and you. I don’t think this guy is going anywhere until he’s finished what he started. He’ll have to be somewhere close to the city in order to get access to his victims, but not close enough he won’t be able to hightail it out if the police catch up to him. Somewhere where there’d be