Bounty (17 page)

I
t’s
the men who kidnapped April. In the conference room, negotiating peacefully with Devlin Sullivan. It’s the motherfucking goddamn Russians, I recognize one of them, the one that ran off. I even recognize the bruises, where my ring made contact with the side of his cheek. The bruising around his nose, where I broke it weeks ago.

The rage takes me over again. I throw off the Irish bouncers and shout a warning to April but I’m not sure she’s heard. She seems to have her own problems as she’s shrieking and being pushed aside. I’m starting to see red again.

They all try to draw guns on me, but I’m fast. I get in under their guard, too close for gunshots, but I’m quickly outnumbered, even worse than last time.

After spending some time beating the crap out of me, I’ve now got both Irish and Russian mobsters pointing everything from revolvers to AKs at my head.

I dazedly wonder how they got all this firepower into the hotel, but then again, for all I know, Devlin owns the place. Or at least the people that run it.

I think I hear April shouting at them, or to them? Or at me? But it doesn’t matter. It’s over. I’ve tipped my hand, and my cover is completely blown. All to protect April, who was going to rat me out, anyway.

“Bring him in here,” Sullivan says, and he’s a very different man than the one I met in Panama. The affable Irishman schtick is gone.

Locked in a room surrounded by his men, he is terrifying.

“This asshole used my daughter to get to me. He sold us out. He has no loyalty.”

I want to shout that he’s the one with no loyalty, breaking bread with the men who attacked his daughter. But of course, I’ve got a large wet towel gagging me, so there will be no words from me.

I am only a witness. Probably to my own death.

“April,” her father says, his voice ice-cold. “What should we do with him?” His eyebrow lances above his eye, and a cruel smirk twists at the corner of his mouth. He’s clearly enjoying this.

“You’re one of us,” he continues.

“Your father’s daughter,” one of the lackeys chimes in. “Tough to the bone.”

“So what should we do with him?” Sullivan continues. “Kill him on the spot?” He’s got a blade to my throat now, but casual. “Or something else?” I still see a hint of the relaxed, thoughtful man I met, and it’s even worse than the monster act.

I watch as emotions flicker across April’s face as she processes everything. Her eyes flash from her father’s face to mine, to the gag in my mouth, the blade at my neck, the guns in the hands of the men around us, the Russians. The one with the broken nose.

I betrayed her. I have almost no hope now that she will pick me, the man who lied to her and sold her out for a bounty, over her father, her life, her business and her heritage. Everything she’s ever known.

I can’t get a read on her. Her face goes cold and calculating. Like her father’s.

A chill of terror creeps up my spine. She is far, far more terrifying than Devlin Sullivan could hope to be. Her speed, her intelligence, the way she holds a gun, the way she thinks on her feet, lies at the drop of a hat. For a split second, I see one potential future. April, inheriting his empire. The most feared gangster in Boston.

“I want to talk to him,” she says, face set in stone. “Alone.”

“It’s not safe,” Sullivan scoffs.

She pivots quickly into the instep of one of the Russians beside her, disarms him in an instant, cocks the gun, and flips off the safety.

Points it at my face.

“I want to talk to him.” Her voice is beautiful and terrible. “Disarm him. Tie his hands. I’ll keep my gun on him, and shout for you if anything happens. But I need closure, damn it. He disrespected me, and I can’t let that stand. I can’t let you defend me.”

Her father gives an actual fist-pump. He’s so proud. “Aye, lass.” He corrects himself. “Aye.”

They haul me to my feet, get in another quick punt to the jaw for good measure, and push me into a big empty space. The conference room.

“Give me the room,” April commands. “Time’s ticking.”

They close the door, and now it’s just the two of us, standing, staring at each other.

“I should kill you,” she notes. The gun is still on me. “But I need you to talk, first.”

I
keep
my gun trained on him.

“You’re a bounty hunter?” I ask. The phrase seems strange in my mouth. Bounty hunters are something you see in reality TV, I never really thought about how they were really a thing.

“Yes,” he says carefully, watching the gun in my hands. The safety is off, he must see that.

“And you were sent to kill my father.”

“No, just to take him into custody. We don’t really do that whole ‘dead or alive’ thing anymore.”

“Careful Liam. We only have about a minute,” I say. “Not a lot of time to waste on jokes. And I should really kill you. Or let them do it. You used me.” Kill him? Could I really do that? Probably not, but hopefully he doesn’t figure that out. It’s bad enough that my father kills people.
He really does kill people.
I’m having a hard time letting that reality sink in. I was fooling myself by thinking that he would just stop at hurting them.

“Yes, I did,” he admits, his head hanging. “That’s true. But that’s just how it started, April. I’m not using you anymore. I… I was going to tell you. Right before Vicente called. Outside.”

“Who?”

“The FBI. Agent Vicente is my contact there.”

I guessed that he must be working for law enforcement. I’m not too clear on how real-life bounty hunters work, mostly I just know about Boba Fett or cowboys, but from what I’ve seen on TV they mainly work with law enforcement. So, he works with cops. Or with the FBI. Whatever. That’s who he was talking to on the phone, directing them to my father.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter now,” Liam continues. “I just wanted to tell you the truth. You deserve that from me… and your father.”

“A little late,” I say, pointing the gun at him while my thoughts race. I’m not sure I believe he was going to tell me before I overheard him. Although he did say he wanted to tell me something important, right before the phone rang. “Anyway, my father has told me the truth. Enough of it, anyway. He’s a gangster. He does bad things. I don’t like that, but I understand why he lied. He was trying to keep me safe. Keeping me safe has always been his priority.” At least my dad has that going for him.

“Then you should ask him why he was in that room making a deal with the same guys that grabbed you the other night.”

“What?” I can feel my mouth hang open, but I’m too shocked to close it.

“Those guys, they’re the same ones that I fought off, and they were in there, calmly talking to your dad. That’s what I was trying to warn you about when his guys grabbed me.”

My head is spinning. Can it be true? Can my father really be dealing with those guys? If he was so concerned about me, if he was so ready to kill Liam, why didn’t he have the same rage against them? What the hell is going on there? I need time to figure this all out. I need someone to tell me the truth. But time is the one thing we don’t have right now. Especially after Liam’s phone call. I overheard him telling the FBI to come. Who knows how much time we have before they’re busting down the doors. “They’re on their way already, right?”

Of course, they’re coming because… because my father is a criminal. The cops want him because he’s probably committed a lot of crimes. And not just money laundering, or even selling illegal things. He was very willing, eager even, to kill Liam. Obviously that wouldn’t have been his first murder. And who knows what the story is with the Russians and why it involved me. If those really are the same guys. I never did get a good look at them.

And in truth, if Liam is here to help take my dad into custody, he’s the goddamn good guy in this situation. Even if he did hurt my feelings and lie to me.

The realization is so obvious that it hits me like a train.

“Oh my God,” I whisper. I have to choose between my father, and the man I was… falling in love with. Maybe already fell in love with. But was any of that real?

Still, I have to remember that he’s the good guy here. Whether or not he loves me, can I really sell him out to gangsters and send him to his death? I’d be choosing organized crime over law enforcement. But more than that, I’d have to turn my back on my family. On my dad. But has my dad already betrayed me, first?

Liam hasn’t answered me yet, so I repeat the question. I need to know how much time I have to decide what the hell I’m supposed to do here. “Are the FBI on their way? How long until they get here?”

“Not exactly,” he says. “I gave them the wrong address. I couldn’t go through with it.” He grins, helpless and hopeless. “I’m a sucker for you, April. You don’t know the power you have.”

“What?” I can’t think fast enough. I can’t think at all.

“Run away with me, April,” he bursts out. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done, and I’m sure you have some regrets, but let’s leave all of this. Please? I… I love you.”

“What are you saying?” My gun lowers slightly, my heart is pounding so hard now it feels like it might burst out of my chest.

“I’d do anything for you. I don’t care about this situation at all anymore. I don’t care what happens with the FBI or the Irish Mafia if it means I get to keep you in my life. Your gangster family, my messed up past, none of that matters anymore. Only you matter. Let’s run away together.”

I can see the truth of what he’s saying in his eyes. I can hear it in his voice. He isn’t playing me this time. I know it. And if I’m wrong… well, then my heart really can’t be trusted anyway.

I drop the gun on the table beside me, step into him, and sweep him into a kiss. He might have done some wrong things, but at least he did them for the right reasons.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” I say. “And… and you love me?”

“Yeah,” he says gruffly.

“Oh, Liam. Liam, Liam, Liam.” I hold his cheek in my hand for a moment, stroking the rough stubble, gazing into those mossy blue-gray eyes. I suddenly know what I need to do.

“We can’t run away together,” I say.

“I know,” Liam continues, eyes dropping. “I know there’s no way I could ask you to choose me over —”

“No,” I interrupt. “It’s not about me. It’s about my father. Devlin Sullivan. Famous gangster, remember? You think he’d let you just leave here, at this point? Even if I plead your case?”

The look on Liam’s face tells me he hadn’t really even considered that until now. And it’s also further proof that he isn’t expecting the FBI to bust in at any moment to help. He was definitely telling the truth about that. Still, all hope isn’t lost.

“If what you say is true, that the FBI are desperate to take him down, then we have to help them. We can’t let him continue to hurt people.”

Liam is confused for a moment. “What?”

“I love you too, you idiot. Of course I do, are you insane? And I’m choosing you. I could never live with myself if I just walked away from everything and let him continue doing what he does. Not now that I really know how bad he is.” I can still see confusion in his eyes, so I make it crystal clear. “I want to help you take down my father. Call your FBI guy back.”

He keeps staring.

“Liam!” I snap my finger in front of his face. “We don’t exactly have all night here. We have to figure out a plan, and fast.”

He leans forward and kisses me hard, then pulls back to look me in the eye. “April. Do you trust me?”

W
e burst through the doors
, my zip-tied hands around her neck, the gun pressed to her head. I can feel her heart pounding through her ribs and into my chest.

There’s a massive uproar as everyone realizes what’s happened.

The gangsters are pissed, clearly feeling like they should have known they couldn’t trust a woman to take care of matters. Guess it’s not so unbelievable that I could have overpowered her. Especially for all of these men who still underestimate her. And that includes her father.

The Russians, especially, want to take me down. I killed on of their men. I can see the hate in their eyes as they glare at me.

But Devlin Sullivan’s voice cuts through the commotion.

“That’s my daughter, goddamn it, put your fucking guns down!” he roars. He puts his hands out to me, as if he could stop me through sheer force of will.

I do almost feel bad for him. If nothing else, I know the man cares about his daughter. The same woman that I do. Even if we share nothing else, we share that, and that will always mean something. But it’s not enough. He’s not a good enough father. He’s still doing business with the men that attacked her, and I have a hard time believing a man with his resources hasn’t made the connection yet.

“That’s right,” I say, the barrel of the gun pressed to her precious temple. “Now I’m going to back down this hallway, and none of you will follow me, or she gets it,” I say, inching away from them. They don’t know I’d rather shoot myself than shoot April. That’s the only way this is going to work. They have to believe it’s a real stand-off.

“I’m not so sure I believe you,” Sullivan says. “You said you really cared about her.”

“You wanna test that?” I ask, and jerk the gun brutally at her precious temple. I hope she understands why it’s necessary. “Stay back,” I warn.

We have to buy ourselves some time.

April was able to text the correct address to Vicente while we plotted. They should be on their way any minute. But if these goons do close in on me before that, I have a backup plan. The only hitch is in how badly I’m outnumbered. At least fifteen to one. If we can just take one guy out, get a gun for April…

“I thought you really cared about her,” Sullivan scoffs. “And now you’ve got a gun to her head.”

“I thought you cared about her, Devlin.”

“Of course I do.”

“Well then you have a funny way of showing it,” I say. “Making backroom deals with the very same men who attacked her the other day.” I jerk my chin at the collection of Russians.

“Zis again,” one of the Russians interrupts. “Ve are not all ze same Ruskies. Not all one, you see.”

“You buy that?” I ask April. She just pretends to be terrified. “You’ve got the bruises where I broke your nose,” I point to the one on the left. “I can see how badly you want to shoot me. Let me tell you, the feeling is mutual.”

The man lurches at me, but one of the Irishmen holds him back. Damn.

“Ye dinnae have to goad them. You’ve already got a gun to the lass’s head,” the man says. “Just tell us what you want.”

Damn people who cut to the chase.

“I’m sorry, April,” I say, trying not to sound too sorry. I already told her, but I know she isn’t sure yet whether it’s true. I hate to drag it out into the light and put her through even more trauma, but it’s the best chance I can think of to keep this going. We didn’t have enough time to really plan out all the details here, so I’m flying by the seat of my pants.

“Devlin,” I say, putting a smirk in my voice. “You said I could call you Devlin, right?”

He doesn’t glare, exactly. It’s somewhere between a glower, and a cocky expression of expectation. He’s waiting for my first move. A game of verbal chess.

“Sure, son.”

“Can you please explain to your daughter why you’d bring these men under your protection, after they so brutally attacked her?”

There. One of the Russians leans in too close. A short one, right next to the bruised one. Perfect.

“This fucker!” I lurch at the bruised one, and April slips out from between my bound hands. Which aren’t really bound.

We work in tandem. She swivels around me, grabs the short Russian’s gun hand, where he isn’t holding onto his AK tightly enough, jerks it towards her, twisting, and I slam the butt of my gun down on the wrong side of the elbow until we hear a crack.

Now we each have a gun, our hands free, and we’re pointing them out into the crowd. My gun is on Sullivan. April keeps her back to mine, and trains it on the Russians.

The threat has shifted from me shooting April, to April shooting them. It’s delicious.

Her father is actually, truly surprised, and that’s delicious too.

“Get him!” one of the Irishmen yells, but Sullivan shrieks over him.

“No, stop! You might hit April!”

But April’s gun is aimed at the last man who attacked her. Pointing his friend’s weapon in his face and glaring at him is too much for the man’s pride. His face crumples into a snarl of rage. I see it, and spin her out of the way as the man lets a bullet fly.

It’s chaos, after that. The patrons downstairs begin to panic, their shrieks piercing up to us on the second floor, both distracting and insistent. The regular cops will be here soon, too, now. The Russians have broken rank, some of the Irish are shooting at me, and some at the Russians, to defend Sullivan’s daughter. Sullivan himself is pointing his gun at me.

But April drags me behind a pillar as the edges of it explode in a cascade of shattered marble.

“I’ll cover us!” she shouts, and I marvel as she pokes her hand around the corner and begins laying down suppressive fire. Not to hit anyone, but to keep it impossible for them to take aim, to concentrate, without risk of getting hit. Fucking smart. She’s got a lot of bullets in that AK, after all.

Men begin to dive behind pillars, too, and now we’re all entrenched.

“Don’t shoot!” Sullivan calls out to the entire room from behind his own pillar. “Stop shooting at my daughter. April, honey. I know you’re confused right now. But you’re with us,” he says, gentle. Understanding. “This is everything we’ve fought for, together. All your hard work, and mine. Everything we’ve built is here.”

I can’t let him play that angle. I trust April, but… I call out. “What happened to April’s mother?”

Sullivan freezes, then every mobster freezes. You could hear a pin drop in the room. It was a gamble by me, nothing but a suspicion I had, but the sudden silence is all the evidence I need to know my hunch was right.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says.

“Dad? What happened to Mom,” April says, stepping out from behind the pillar before I can stop her. “Don’t lie to me.”

I peer around to watch her in amazement. She’s the safest, I suppose, with all the Irish men pointing their guns at the Russians to protect her, and the Russians mostly swinging their aim back at the Irishmen. But I don’t like to see her there, in the middle of the room. I keep my eyes dancing between potential threats to her.

I should be by her side. But Sullivan’s gun is still on me. One wrong move and we’re all shot.

April creeps close to her father.

“What. Happened. To Mom?”

Even in a stand-off, her father manages to look composed. “She was in an accident,” he finally answers.

“I said don’t lie to me!” April roars, and it’s a miracle nobody fires on reflex. Devlin continues to underestimate how smart his daughter is.

“It’s no lie,” he says. “It wasn’t a car accident, but it was a mistake. The man responsible was swiftly taken care of.”

“You got her killed…” April says. “She got caught in the cross-fire.”

“Yes,” Sullivan finally relents. “Yes. It was because of me, and that’s something that I have to live with every day.”

“No. That’s something I had to live with every day. Do you know what it’s like to grow up without a mother?”

I do. It’s something else we share.

Sullivan merely shakes his head.

“Then, you might not understand… But Dad, I don’t want to lose you too.”

Oh shit.