Chapter Twenty-Six
The plume of smoke could be seen a half mile away.
Jag checked the GPS tracker, wanting to make sure he was seeing the location correctly. “She’s there.”
“Fuck!” Mateo was already taking the back road like a race-car driver. The tires hit the potholes, nearly sending them into the ditch, but he didn’t slow down.
They reached the farm and Jag gave the GPS one last glance. Mercy’s location was behind the house. The truck had barely stopped moving before he jumped out, drawing his gun from his waistband. “Take the house,” he told Mateo.
Jag ran around the house, pointing his gun, unsure of what he might find.
In the distance, he saw Mercy, who was facing a giant of a man walking toward her.
He’d learned a long time ago. Don’t carry a gun unless it will be used. Without hesitation, Jag shot the man in the leg. He went down like a stack of bricks.
Running across the field, Jag came upon Cross, lying flat on his back with a stream of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were wide open, and he was dead.
Mercy stumbled toward Jag and he pulled her into his arms. “Are you okay?” He looked her up and down.
“I-I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy from the explosion.”
Mateo came running up, his breath labored. “Looks like the house went up like a bale of straw. No one could have survived.”
“It doesn’t appear that Cross did either,” Jag said.
Mateo looked at Mercy. “You okay?”
“I am.”
The bodyguard moaned, and Mateo went to handle him.
Jag felt his own internal explosion. When he saw the fire, he’d imagined the worst. His life with Mercy had flickered before him. He saw himself as an old man, lonely, because the only woman he’d ever loved wasn’t in his life.
He couldn’t let that happen. He’d fight every internal demon he needed to if he had her in his life.