Page 148 of Tell Me All Your Lies
“I asked myself, why am I doing all of this? I became the head of the agency, and for what? A life without women, money, and intrigue. That’s when I met Taby and everything fell into place.”
“You can still change,” I offer.
Dodger laughs loudly as he starts to pace once more.
“I did change. For the better. I may not have your wife, but I did accomplish what I wanted. Now this is it.”
Dodger faces me completely.
“You are going to die, Grant Sinclair, as the villain.”
“How so? You’re the one up here as a traitor.”
“No one will know that. Not when you and Mrs. Weston are dead.”
“Stop playing with your food,” Cordelia says boredly.
“I can’t do that,” he sneers.
“Kill them, and let’s go,” Cordelia demands.
Dodger pulls the gun out of his pocket and aims it at me as Taby does the same to Cara.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the only sign of hope that we have—Brad.
“Any last words?” Cordelia asks.
“Yeah. Get down,” I shout.
Shots are fired from two directions as Cara and I both face-plant onto the concrete roof. It all happens so quickly—one minute, I’m on the ground, and the next, my instincts kick in, and I’m bolting upright and running after Cordelia.
“I’m right behind you!” Cara shouts.
Cordelia’s quick as she jumps off the roof and onto an abandoned trash compactor. Without a second thought, Cara is in the air next in pursuit.
“Goddamn,” I say before I follow behind.
Cara raises her knife in the air and flings it at a running Cordelia. It lands in her shoulder blade, causing her to fall to the ground.
Cordelia screams as she tries to hold onto her wound. Cara straddles her, with Cordelia face down.
“Cordelia Miller? I have a feeling you’re under arrest.”
Cara pulls off her belt and uses it to tie Cordelia’s hands together behind her back. Cordelia shouts profanities the entire time.
Cara flashes me a brilliant smile at the victory.
“Are you okay?” Brad asks, out of breath as he catches up to us.
“We’re okay. You?” I ask while scanning him.
“Fine. We’re going to be okay.” He huffs.
“Wait…” I trail off.
“Don Williams. National security,” he says with an outstretched hand.
“I’ll be damned,” I say as I shake it.
