BooksBarbecue
Back Less than Dead Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. TITLE PAGE
  3. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  4. DEDICATION
  5. CONTENTS
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Alena was devastated. She finally knew the truth—but only half of it. She knew who but not why, and that was almost worse than knowing nothing at all. Why would a woman kill half a dozen men? What kind of secret was worth that? She would have given everything to know— but she had nothing left to give. She had nothing left to bargain with, and she couldn’t bring herself to beg.

She was going to die—she knew it—but if she had to die, she was going to make it as hard on the man as possible. She had no intention of buying a few additional hours of life by climbing into that trunk and making his work easier for him. No—she would make him kill her right here, and she would make sure her blood hit the ground and mingled with the dust—and he could scrape it and wipe it all he wanted, but he would never remove the scent.

She imagined the kennel door ten feet behind her. She would turn and lunge for it and throw the gate wide open. She knew that the moment she turned, the man would fire, but with luck he would shoot her in the back and not the head, and she still might have the strength to make it to the kennel and give the dogs their chance. If not—well, she was dead anyway.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

She spun around and dove for the kennel gate. She tensed every muscle in her body, anticipating the blast of the gunshot and the impact of the bullet slamming into her flesh—but to her astonishment she reached the kennel and slid her fingers into the chain-link fence. The latch on the gate was a foot to her left—she had never expected to get this far. She fumbled madly for the latch, and in the back of her mind she felt a desperate flicker of hope. There was no gunshot—no slam of a bullet into her spine or skull. It might work—she might make it.

As she reached for the latch she heard heavy footsteps behind her and a muttered curse. She felt a crushing blow to the back of her head and saw a searing flash of light.

Then everything went black.

35

35

Agnes slumped forlornly on the edge of the loading dock while Nick and Gunner stood over the body. Nick shined his flashlight down at the lifeless face.

“He’s not from Endor,” Gunner said. “I don’t recognize his face.”

“I do. His name is Daniel Flanagan—he was the FBI agent in charge of the investigation at the Patriot Center.”

“What was he doing here?”