From the corner of her eye, Amelia tried to check her peripheral vision but so far hadn’t seen anyone move. Why the hell wouldn’t that nurse with the baby step away and give cops freer rein to move in? “You killed Oliver?”
“I shot him. He deserved to die. You people don’t understand what you have done in stopping me.” She swung the gun in a wide circle at the dozen or so people remaining. “Those children would be nothing without me.”
Amelia’s heart lurched as the wide arc swept past Hugh’s broad chest. His eyes met hers and held. She could see the steely determination glinting even from far away. She knew he would stop at nothing to be a crusader. What might he sacrifice now? Just the thought of how far he would go terrified her with images of his lifeless body sprawled on the ground.
Fear made her sway—and distracted her. She needed to pull Jocelyn’s focus back to her before she shot someone else. “It’s not about you and how fast you shuttle the most kids around. It’s about them and ensuring their safety. And believe me, speaking as someone who spent some time with Oliver and Tandi, safety was not uppermost in their minds.”
Something flickered in Jocelyn’s face, something like… guilt?
Amelia pressed. “Do you really believe that was the first time Oliver pulled something like that? He was going to sell me as some kind of sex slave. God only knows what he did to children you thought had simply gone missing or weren’t picked up.”
Jocelyn reeked with the scent of a cornered animal. Amelia knew her nose for fanatical criminals, her sense of how to work a defendant, had paid off. She’d hit Jocelyn where she was most vulnerable.
Time to push hard and finish it, to make Jocelyn deliver the damning words that would resonate with any jury. “The only way to save them now is for you to tell us what you did, so we can try to find them. Otherwise you’re every bit the criminal—the monster—Oliver was.”
An agonizing acceptance slid over Jocelyn’s face, and Amelia realized she’d won. The woman wouldn’t have to be taken out by some risky sniper shot. This could end peacefully. Amelia held out her hand, the one with the snakebite bandage. “Please, just give me your gun.”
The woman who’d single-handedly led an entire baby-smuggling ring sighed heavily, her face aging another ten years in the defeated moment. “You’re right. I did become like Oliver, dirty as hell, just like my good-for-nothing family.”
Jocelyn lifted the gun—and placed the barrel into her own mouth.
Chapter 20
Eyes locked on Amelia, Hugh vaulted toward the C-17 load ramp. He heard his fellow PJs in step alongside him but he didn’t waste a second checking. He knew they would back him up as they sprinted toward the madwoman with a gun. Jocelyn might have it pointed at herself, but with Amelia still in her grip and snipers trying to get a clear shot…
He wasn’t stopping until he had Amelia far away from the line of fire.
His heart was in his throat, his pulse hammering harder as he stretched his body to the max. What if the bullet ricocheted, hitting bone? What if Jocelyn reflexively pulled away from the shot at the bitter end, common in suicide shooters. That last minute twitch could have sent a bullet into Amelia.
Into his woman.
Denial howled through him, and maybe even from his mouth. His teammates could take down Jocelyn. But Hugh had Amelia. He refused to be too late. He hadn’t been there to help Marissa, but damn it, he was here, now. He couldn’t fail her.
He dove toward Amelia, went airborne, and hooked an arm around her middle. A shot echoed. From where? Jocelyn’s gun. Blood spewed on her. On Amelia.
A bullet whizzed past his ear, coming from behind. He had to make sure she was clear of the snipers. He swept her off the ramp, twisting in midair so his body would catch the impact—
Oof. He slammed to the ground. The impact shattered through him, but for once he was grateful they only had a dirt runway rather than asphalt. He rolled her under him, shielding her as the ground shuddered beneath them.
“Amelia?” he shouted, needing to know. “Are you—?”
“Yes…” Her fists gripped his shirt, her teeth chattering. “Yes, yes, I’m okay…”
His arms locked harder as the shouts around them grew so loud he couldn’t hear her anymore. But he could feel her, warm, vibrant, and alive. Relief rocked through him so hard he could have sworn another aftershock shook the earth. She was talking and coherent. The rest they could fix later. He tried to put his eyes on Jocelyn to make sure that threat wasn’t coming for Amelia and he saw what looked like the woman’s unmoving form a few yards away.
He started to roll to the side—
The ground trembled harder. Damn it all. It truly was another aftershock. Even though they’d been through at least twenty already, still the smell of panic, of fear, filled the air. People dropped to the ground, covering their heads, while others scrambled away.
And the shuddering continued, a rougher one this time as the world around him rattled. Lights on poles swayed. Generators hopped as if they were as insubstantial as Matchbox cars.
Shit. Realization mushroomed inside him. This wasn’t just a quick tremble. Another earthquake swelled up from below like an underground train exploding upward. Screams mixed with the thunderous cracking.
Pain shot up his leg, but he blocked the sensation, focusing everything inside him on staying curved around Amelia. He could hear her breathing and chanting the Lord’s Prayer over and over.
He couldn’t even let himself think of how badly she might have been injured. He would deal with that once he was sure the rest of the world wasn’t going to crash down on top of them—or crack open beneath them.
The deafening noise around them shifted. The earth quieted.