Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            From there, everything happened so slowly that it felt like a dream and so fast that he struggled to keep up. Tom dove for Liza, grabbing her ankle, stopping her momentum. She hung over the side, her head pointed straight down.

            Croft fired and Tom heard DJ stagger and fall.

            “Drop the gun,” Croft ordered, but DJ ignored her.

            Tom heard the pop of a suppressed bullet the moment that it hit him in the ribs. More correctly, it hit the Kevlar vest he wore beneath his suit.

            “Fuck,” he ground out, forcing his hand to grip Liza’s ankle harder when his first reflex had been to let her go.

            Behind him, Croft cried out in pain as she hit the ground.

            Tom turned his head to see DJ crawling toward him, his expression filled with hate. “You thought you won?” DJ taunted. “You didn’t.” DJ went up on his knees, his gun pointed at Tom’s head.

            Liza was squirming, trying to lever herself back onto solid ground.

            “Liza, stop.” She immediately stopped struggling. She trusted him that much.

            Tom had dropped his gun when he’d reached for her, and it was trapped under his body. He could reach for it, but he’d have to let her go. Which wasn’t going to happen.

            He could hear Croft’s quiet groans but didn’t know if she was all right. From where he lay, prone on the ground, all he could see was Liza in front of him and DJ to his left.

            And then, finally, the sound of helicopter blades filled the air.

            DJ looked up for a second, but it was enough.

            Tom rolled right, grabbed his gun with his left hand, and . . . hesitated. He was aiming for DJ’s head, but that . . . That was rage and would deprive DJ’s victims of their justice.

            And that’s not me. Adjusting his grip, Tom shot him in the right shoulder instead, firing three bullets in quick succession.

            DJ dropped to his knees, screaming. Partly in pain, Tom thought. Mostly in fury. DJ had dropped his gun and dove for it now. When he twisted around, he held the gun in a two-handed grip and pointed it at Tom’s hand, still clutching Liza’s ankle. “She’s going to die and you’re—”

            Tom fired again, striking DJ in the chest as another shot came from his right. Croft. DJ fell backward, blood spreading across his torso. And from the hole in his head.

            He was finally still.

            Tom sagged, letting his forehead rest on the ground for five hard beats of his heart. Then he reached for Liza’s other ankle and began to tug.

            Croft crawled to his side. “Let me help.”

            Together they pulled Liza back to solid ground and then the three of them collapsed, breathing like they’d each run a marathon.

            “Are you all right?” Liza finally asked.

            Croft’s laugh was a little manic. “You’re asking us?”

            “Well, yeah. I’m the medic.”

            “We have vests,” Tom said. “But hell. They tell you that it’ll hurt, but . . .”

            “They severely misrepresent the pain,” Croft said, then groaned. “I think I busted a rib.”

            “But otherwise, you’re all right?” Liza pressed.

            Tom shoved up on his elbows. “You’re covered in blood. Are you all right?” It was smeared on her thighs and he could see vague streaks that might have been from her fingers. Now that she was safe, he could think of everything else.

            “It’s Kowalski’s. I’m fine.”

            “Good.” Tom rolled to the side that didn’t hurt like hell and pulled her close. She put her arms around his neck and he held her for a long moment while she shuddered against him. “You scared the hell out of me,” he murmured. “Don’t ever do that again.”

            She laughed, a slightly broken sound. “I wasn’t afraid of heights before, but I am now.”