Page 116 of The Devoted Game

She fought harder. Would not be a compliant victim again.

He pinned her on her back. Straddled her waist.

She banged at his trunk. Snatched at his balls. Bucked her hips.

“Ooh ... that feels good,” he said.

She couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t stop clawing for a vulnerable spot.

“First,” he taunted, “I want a bite of those lips.”

He leaned down, swiped his vile tongue around his lips. Then bared his teeth and leaned closer still.

She snapped her head up, banged forehead to forehead with all her might. Spots formed before her eyes. Her head pounded.

“Bitch!” One hand loosened from her neck as he reached for his forehead.

She gasped for air. Reared her hand back and jammed her fingers into his throat.

He gurgled.

Vivian struggled to throw him off, but he was too heavy.

“Have it your way, then,” he screamed. “I’ll kill you first!”

His demented eyes locked with hers. “I’ve waited a long time, Number Thirteen.”

His hands clamped around her throat.

An explosion filled the room.

He froze ... fingers loosened as he stared down at his chest.

Blood leaked from wide hole there ... the crimson color soaking into his pale-blue shirt.

He slumped forward.

Vivian shoved him off her and scrambled away.

People were suddenly all around her. Cops. Paramedics. Pierce. Pratt. Schaffer and her yellow boots. Pierce helped Vivian to her feet.

She looked around, then at Pierce. “Where’s McBride?”

He didn’t have to answer.

She knew from the resignation in his eyes.

Fincher had gotten to McBride.

And he’d used her as bait.

UAB Hospital, 10:30 a.m.

Ryan’s eyes opened slowly. He licked his dry lips. Hadn’t felt like this since that first week-long post-FBI drinking binge.

He tried to raise his arm to wipe his mouth. Pain shot up his forearm.

“Don’t move.”