Page 52 of Outlaw Ridge: Jesse
The gunfire didn’t stop.
Neither did they. And Lauren’s mind didn’t stop whirling with thoughts of who was doing this. She didn’t know. She’d only gotten those glimpses at their attacker and hadn’t been able to tell if it was Reardon, Dr. Graves or Isabel.
Jesse cursed when some sparks from the fire landed on his jeans, and he had to smack out the embers. “We can’t just wait here. I’m going to circle around and sneak up on the asshole,” he muttered.
Lauren wanted to tell him to rethink that. Or at least to be careful. But she didn’t get the chance to say anything before Jesse darted out from behind the tree, sprinting low and fast toward another patch of cover. The shooter spotted him immediately, gunfire blasting in Jesse’s direction. Bullets ripping through the trees, kicking up dirt and bark.
Lauren’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t lay low while the shooter was trying to kill Jesse.
She leaned over from the tree, fired at the shooter, her shots sharp and precise, hoping to draw the shooter’s attention away from Jesse. And it worked. Thank God, it worked.
Their attacker shifted, returning fire toward Lauren instead. The sudden volley of bullets slammed into the tree she was using for cover. More splinters of bark flew into her face, the sharp sting barely registering over the pounding in her ears.
But the pain was worth it.
Because Jesse was able to move, and he disappeared into the shadows.
Lauren pressed her back against the rough trunk, her breaths ragged, adrenaline roaring through every part of her. She was pinned down, the shooter’s attention fixed on herposition. The sharp crack of each bullet echoed in her skull, but all she could think about was Jesse.
Please be okay,she thought, gripping her weapon tighter, her heart pounding with fear—not for herself, but for him.
Because if he didn’t make it around, if something happened to him—
She couldn’t finish the thought.
Instead, she focused, waiting for her moment, praying Jesse would find his.
The sharp crack of gunfire echoed in Lauren’s ears, but then—something changed. She heard it. The rapid, pounding rhythm of footsteps cutting through the trees.
A fresh round of adrenaline hit her as she snapped her head around just in time to see Jesse—moving fast—tackling someone from the side.
They hit the ground hard, a tangle of limbs and a wild struggle. A shot went off, the flash of it deafening for half a second, but Jesse didn’t stop. He grappled with the shooter, fighting to wrestle the gun free.
Lauren didn’t hesitate. She sprang off the ground, sprinting toward them, and with everything inside her shouting for her to get to Jessenow, now, now. Her feet barely felt the ground beneath her as she closed the distance, her gun still gripped tight in her hand.
When she reached them, Jesse was on top, pinning the shooter’s arm down, struggling to rip the gun from their grasp. Lauren moved in fast, ready to help. She reached out—her hand closing over the shooter’s wrist, fingers digging in hard.
And then she saw the face.
Her breath stopping in mid-motion.
Isabel.
The moonlight caught her features, twisted with rage and desperation, her eyes wild, teeth clenched as she fought againstJesse’s grip. Lauren’s mind raced to catch up with what her eyes were seeing.
Yes, she’d known Isabel was one of their suspects, but Lauren hadn’t expected the socialite to be fighting her own battles.
Lauren shoved aside the shock burning through her, and she wrenched the gun free of Isabel’s grip, tossing it out of reach.
“You worthless little bitch,” Isabel snarled.
Isabel’s chest heaved, her gaze flickering between Lauren and Jesse, dark and full of something that chilled Lauren more than the gunfire ever had.
She didn’t have words. Not yet.
Just questions.
And rage. So much rage.
