CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
So Much DeathLoose rocks and debris showered the back of Leilah’s head. Her forehead hit the floor as the g*n released but the agony of her broken rib kept her there. The ludicrous thought crossed her mind that perhaps the cop knew more about the New Zealand landscape than her. Maybe she would die in a tomb of grey-wacky slate.
“Leilah!” Vaughan’s voice contained fear and urgency. He hauled her upright and she let out a wail of agony. “She’s hurt!” he shouted to someone else. “She’s hurt!”
“He didn’t shoot her.” Dante dropped to his knees in front of her and lifted her face. Gentle hands ran over her body looking for blood and he checked his palms. Then he jerked his head behind her.
“Oh, crap!” Vaughan breathed the words and Leilah tried to turn.
“Don’t look, Lei.”
