Ryan lunged forward and grabbed Hope's shaking, bound hands as Donahue's grip faltered. He yanked her up and shoved her behind him while he continued to keep Donahue in his sights. Two agents rushed to the scene, guns drawn.
The whole encounter had lasted less than ten seconds, Ryan realized with dawning amazement. He saw Donahue grabbing his shoulder where Ryan had shot him. Three guns were aimed point-blank at Donahue's head, a fact that Ryan was only too pleased to tell him.
Donahue held up his hands in surrender, grimacing in pain. He lifted his dark head.
Beady, brown eyes filled with hatred focused on Ryan.
"When I realized it was the cops I had a funny feeling it was going to be you behind me, Daire," Donahue rasped. He panted and was starting to sweat profusely.
"It was all just a matter of time," Ryan told him.
"Where'd you hit him?" Pearson asked as he inched toward Donahue.
"Winged his right shoulder." Ryan blinked at his own words. It was the exact same place he'd shot Diamond Jack Fletcher earlier in the week.
Weird.
Donahue let out a howl of rage and pain when Agent Pearson shoved his hand beneath his tuxedo jacket in search of his weapon. He withdrew an automatic a second later and handed it to Agent DiMarco. Donahue's curses and complaints escalated when Di-Marco helped her partner yank Donahue into the passenger seat of the car. Pearson held him while DiMarco secured his wrists behind his back.
"I've been shot, you bitch! What're you doing cuffing me? I need to go to the hospital before I bleed to death."
But Agent DiMarco just kept on reading him his rights with no inflection whatsoever in her voice as she secured Jim Donahue.
Donahue groaned like they were torturing him.
"Now that's a sweet sound," Ramiro said as he approached. He smiled broadly at Donahue's glare before he looked at Ryan. "We've got 'em. Crenshaw has set up roadblocks to keep out all but official personal. No one is getting in or out of the Sweet Lash until they check out. There are nine very scared young women in the back of that van."
Ryan felt Hope start behind him. He lowered his hand down over the curve of her hip, pressing her tightly against him, needing to feel her flesh. He partially turned and looked down at her.
"This is going to hurt a little," he said softly before he removed the duct tape from her mouth. She didn't even wince but just continued to stare up at him with enormous eyes.
"Hope?" Ramiro said incredulously.
"Are you all right?" Ryan asked at the same moment.
She nodded. "I'm fine."
Ryan gritted his teeth in helpless fury. Despite her assurance at being "fine," her face was about as pale as the snowy white dress shirt he wore. He glanced over at Donahue, who sat cuffed in the passenger seat of the car, the stain of blood slowly growing on his shirt.
Too bad the only viable target on the asshole hadn't been directly over his shrunken little heart.
"What did you want with her?" Ryan asked, his voice quiet since Pearson wa
s communicating their situation on his headset.
Donahue's mouth twisted angrily. For a second Ryan thought he'd give him a smart-ass answer or refuse to respond, but instead Donahue nodded at the gravel a few feet from his shining black leather shoes. Ryan saw something glittering on the white stones. He regretfully stepped away for a moment from Hope's trembling body.
"Ramiro, get that tape off Hope's wrists. DiMarco?" he asked, making sure the agent who currently had her weapon trained on Donahue understood that he was going to be bending down within kicking distance of Donahue's feet. She nodded and Ryan crouched. He lifted the delicate chain from the rocks. He immediately recognized the silver filigreed locket.
"Where did you get this?"
His response was an insolent stare.
"Tell me," Ryan grated out.
"I found it between one of the floorboards of the Sweet Lash years ago. I carry it with me for a good-luck token. I suppose you're going to tell me that's a federal crime as well?"
Ryan stared down into Donahue's eyes, dragging his soul for lies. Surely he didn't retain memories from his previous lifetime, did he?