Chapter 8 - The Enemy of My Enemy
Richard wasn't there to save me. He was there for the money.
He opened fire on the remaining Russian guards, a desperate, greedy madman trying to claim the throne of Eleanor's stolen fortune.
"The money is gone, Richard!" I screamed over the gunfire. "I blew it up!"
"You're lying!" Richard roared, taking cover behind his SUV.
The pier became a three-way crossfire. The Russians against Richard, and me just trying to keep my sister alive.
I looked at the water. The Volkov boss's body was floating in the dark waves, and scattered across the surface were thousands of burning bearer bonds. Eleanor’s stolen fortune was turning to ash in the Puget Sound.
"Sarah, when I say go, we run for the truck," I told my sister, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"I can't!" she panicked.
"You have to!" I grabbed her hand. "Go!"
We broke cover, sprinting through the rain. A bullet grazed my shoulder, burning like hot iron, but I didn't stop. We reached the old truck I had bought, and I shoved her inside.
I jumped into the driver's seat, hot-wired the ignition, and slammed the gas pedal.
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In the rearview mirror, I saw Richard standing over the edge of the pier, screaming in pure agony as he watched the twelve million dollars sink to the bottom of the ocean.
He had the house. But he had lost his mind.
