Targeted For Murder

“I’ve been shot, and there’s nothing anyone can do for me now. I’m not going to make it.”

She could staunch the flow, adding to his efforts, but he’d already lost so much blood. Now she understood better his deathly appearance...except for one thing.

“Why, Dad? Why did someone shoot you?”

“Someone put a contract out on me. Probably because of a past operation. And that’s why I’m here. To warn you. You have to get out, Hadley. You have to hide.”

“Me? What does this have to do with me?”

“You’re my family. They have targeted you for elimination, too.”

“But...why?”

“I don’t have all the answers. My best guess? Revenge. I’ve done terrible things, Hadley, but sometimes the ends justifies the means, or at least I used to believe. But nothing is worth you getting hurt.” He pointed to a backpack on the table. “That’s for you.”

Hadley pulled away from him and glanced at the pack, then back at her father. She was losing him.

God, help him. Help me!

“I don’t care about the backpack, Dad. Let’s get you out of here and somewhere safe—like the hospital.”

Her mind was going in traitorous circles. She couldn’t think clearly or straight. She was going into shock, herself. All Hadley knew was she must do something to save her father. She eyed her cell on the counter and started for it but he held her in place with a death grip, his expression painfully desperate.

“Listen,” he hissed.

She didn’t recognize her father. Who was this man?

“Pay attention. Your life depends on it. The pack contains everything you’ll need to disappear. Cash and a passport. A new identity. Don’t use credit cards. Too easy to track. Grab your weapon. Take it with you...” Coughs spasmed from him, preventing him from saying more.

“What? I can’t leave now! What about the gallery? Friday is my national debut.” But as she said the words, she realized how shallow they sounded with what she was facing—her father’s death. And the chance that his killer might come after her next.

“I know it’s hard to take in all at once. I wanted to protect you. To keep you safe, but my world is...my world’s colliding with yours. Lose your identity. Disappear. Hide and...”

Now her childhood was all making so much more sense. The Krav Maga weekends. The firing ranges. Oh. My...

Her father’s head tilted forward. Hadley wanted to hug him, to keep him with her. “Daddy! Please, don’t leave me. I love you.”

His eyes were closed. Was he gone? Had she lost him? His lids fluttered, then he opened them again. “Leave now before he finds you and kills you. Trust no one. In the backpack—”

His eyes shut again and his head lobbed forward. Hadley sensed that he was gone. That her father no longer resided in this body. The thought overwhelmed her. She couldn’t comprehend it all.

Gone.

Just like that.

He’s gone.

Hadley dropped to her knees, pressed her face into her father’s jacket and sobbed. “No, Daddy, no!”

His words echoed through her mind. Leave now before he finds you and kills you.

Was this real? Was any of this real? Hadley wiped her eyes and nose and tore herself away. She stood to her feet and grabbed her cell from the counter, then called 911. No matter what he said, she was calling the police. If she could even believe someone was after her, why couldn’t the police help? Or the CIA, the people he worked for? The reason he was dead and she was in this predicament.

“What is your emergency?” the dispatcher answered.

“My father, he’s been shot. He’s...he’s dead. And he says someone is trying to kill me, too.”

The dispatcher asked for pertinent information that Hadley gave her. Afterward, she hung up and stared at her father’s body, still in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. She paced the apartment, everything he’d just told her swirling through her mind in a vortex of confusion. Bile rose in her throat, moisture dampened her palms. She glanced at the backpack.

Leave now.

Trust no one.

Hadley snatched the bag and unzipped it. Shock rippled through her. Cash. There was so much cash. She’d never seen that much money in her life. Where had he gotten it? She glanced at him, then averted her gaze. She didn’t want to think about her father as he was now in the chair. She didn’t want that to be the prevailing memory of him. She tugged out the passport and saw her alias.

Megan Spears from Iowa?

Sirens rang out in the distance.

Panic cranked tighter around her throat. What would the police think when they found her with a bag of cash and a fake passport? Found her father dead? She glanced at her hands and her blouse. She was covered in his blood!

What do I do? What do I do?

Her entire life had just been ripped from under her. Her father’s, too. She’d lost her father and possibly her identity. Add to that, if the police would suspect her of his murder first and if they found this bag of cash and a fake passport, they would have a lot of questions for her. She would have no answers. Would they even believe her?

Think. You have to think.

She had to hide the bag. But where?

Teresa’s apartment.

Her friend wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

But if Hadley hid it and the police found it, then what would she say? She shook off the thought, refusing to let doubts freeze her into inaction.

She was running out of time and didn’t have many choices.

Hadley snatched the bag and ran across the hallway. She unlocked the door, urged Butterfinger out of the way, and stashed the backpack at the top of the coat closet behind some boxes.

Oh, Daddy...

He could have gone to the hospital instead of coming to her apartment. If he had, he might have lived since the shot hadn’t instantly killed him. He might have survived! But he chose to come here and warn her instead of getting treatment. He’d sacrificed his life to give her everything she would need to survive.

Hadley was the reason he was dead.

Just like she was the reason her mother had died.

But she couldn’t think about that now. She had to focus on her father’s purpose for coming here—to warn her. She had to think about his instructions.