Simon Says Die

a pathetic spark of hope.
    â€œSimon?” Her mouth curved in a tentative smile.
    He moved his lips next to her ear. “Simon says . . . die.” He plunged the knife into her back.

 
    Chapter One
    FBI S PECIAL A GENT Pierce Buchanan could think of only a few of his experiences more pathetic than standing on his former lover’s front porch, waiting for her to answer the door. Like having the woman he loved dump him, as he was reaching into his pocket for an engagement ring—the same woman whose porch he was currently standing on.
    Yep. Pathetic.
    If his best friend hadn’t begged him to check on his kid sister, Pierce sure as hell wouldn’t be here right now.
    As he raised his hand to knock on Madison’s door again, a man darted around the corner of the house from the backyard and ran to the road out front. A woman with shoulder-length dark hair ran after him.
    Pierce clenched his jaw. No point in knocking again. Madison wasn’t home.
    She was chasing a man down the street.
    He narrowed his eyes. Was that the bulge of a gun beneath the edge of the man’s jacket? A sinking feeling settled in his stomach. What was she thinking? Was she trying to get herself killed?
    He vaulted over the porch railing, landing in a painful crouch on the brick walkway, three feet below. His knees throbbed in protest, an insulting reminder that a thirty-five-year-old agent shouldn’t pull stunts as if he were still a twenty-year-old kid fresh out of the academy.
    Madison didn’t react when he shouted a warning about the gun. Either she didn’t hear him, or she was too stubborn to listen.
    He’d put his money on stubborn.
    His GTO was parked down the street. His 9mm was in the glove box. But the car was in the opposite direction from where Madison was running.
    Too far away. Not enough time.
    He blew out a frustrated breath and took off across Madison’s front lawn. Fifty yards ahead, she raced up one of the manicured paths of Savannah’s Forsyth Park after the man with the gun.
    A bright blue trolley was unloading tourists. They scrambled out of Madison’s way like a gaggle of geese, honking their displeasure as she and her prey disappeared behind some trees.
    Pierce shouted an apology as he vaulted over an elderly couple sitting on a bench. The sky erupted in a haze of gray and white as a flock of pigeons flew up in front of him. He waved his arms to ward them off, and he barreled through the same tourists Madison had scattered only moments before. He threw back another apology and sprinted down the path where Madison had disappeared.
    Panic shot through him when he rounded a clump of oak trees, only to see an empty, winter-brown field spread out before him. Unbidden, an image flashed through his mind—Madison’s tiny body, broken and bleeding, riddled with bullets. The thought of a world without the sexy little smart-ass sent a sharp jolt of pain knifing straight to his heart.
    Much to his disgust.
    He slowed to a jog, steeling himself against the curious stares of the people walking down the paths. It was a safe bet they hadn’t expected to see someone in a business suit sprinting through the park. It certainly wasn’t what he had planned when he’d gotten up this morning.
    A faint shout sounded from behind a row of two-stories on the opposite side of the field. He took off toward the sound, emerging onto the street behind the houses in time to see Madison and the man she was chasing disappear down another side street.
    Pierce veered down a parallel road, hoping the shortcut would help him catch up to Madison before she caught up to the gunman. Near the end of the block, he raced down a cross street and tore in between two houses, emerging onto a narrow road several yards ahead of Madison.
    His relief was short-lived when Madison stumbled to a halt, her face draining of color. But she wasn’t staring at him. She was staring off to his right, over his shoulder.
    He whirled around. The man Madison had been chasing wasn’t running anymore. He was standing in the middle of the street, his face hidden in the shadows beneath his hooded denim jacket.
    Pointing a gun at Madison.
    That sinking feeling twisted Pierce’s gut again. Today of all days, why couldn’t he have worn his Kevlar vest?
    Pathetic.
    He lunged in front of Madison just as the gun went off.
    M ADISON STOOD OUTSIDE the ambulance, watching Pierce lying inside on a