Marked by Passion (33 page)

I knew he was remembering Rhys's hand up my shirt with me begging for it. I tipped my chin up defiantly—I would not feel guilty about that. It wasn't like I had the market cornered on betrayal. "Why did you take the scroll?"

"Because he was hired to take it," someone said from behind me.

I whirled around, weight set and ready to pounce.

Paul stepped into the office, a grim smile twisting his face and a big black gun pointed right at my chest.

P
aul?" I blinked, gaping.

He nodded. "I'm sorry, Gabby."

"Are you here to help me?"

"That's one way to look at it." He held the gun steadily trained on me.

"I don't understand." I
hated
guns. I glanced at the cold steel and then back up to his face. "Why don't you put the gun down? This is all a misunderstanding."

"There's only one misunderstanding here." He shifted the gun to point at Jesse. "We had a deal."

"What kind of deal?" I asked, directing the question to both of them. "Is Jesse servicing a car for you or something?"

Paul nodded. "Or something."

Jesse's expression hardened. "Just let her go and we'll deal."

"Deal's off." He walked into the office, his hand steady. "You were supposed to deliver the scroll this afternoon."

The scroll.

"You
stole the scroll for
Paul
?" I gaped briefly at Jesse before focusing on my brother. In a pained whisper, I asked, "So it was all a lie? The loving-brother stuff? Wanting to help me? Wanting to protect me? You didn't mean any of it?"

"I meant all of it," he said firmly. "I was so happy to find you again. You may have been a pest growing up, but you were my
sister.
I missed you."

"Then why this?" I waved between us.

He gazed at me, almost sadly. "You wouldn't give me the scroll."

"And you want it bad enough to pull a gun on me?"

"I tried, Gabby. I tried everything I could think of to get you to hand over the scroll. You never should have been marked. You didn't even want it." He shook his head like that didn't compute. "But I wanted it. I was the oldest: the mark should have been passed on to me."

My hurt made me bitchy. "But it wasn't, was it?"

"
It should have been
." His face darkened, and his hand with the gun shook.

Did I mention how much I hated guns?

"But the mark is inconsequential. When I hired Byrnes to tail you the past couple years—"

"The whole time?" I looked at the back of Jesse's head and stepped back, wishing I could see his eyes. My head reeled, and I had to fight to breathe. I couldn't decide which hurt more—Paul or Jesse's betrayal—but combined, they felt devastating.

Paul frowned at the two of us. Then his face twisted into a mask of anger. "Did you fuck my sister? That wasn't part of your instructions." He turned to me. "I didn't ask him to touch you. I just wanted him in place in case you got the scroll before I did."

"Jeez, that makes me feel better." Then I frowned. "Before you did? When were you ever supposed to get the scroll?"

"When Dad amended his will." His shoulders sagged, as if misery weighed him down. "Chivo couldn't do anything right. He was only supposed to rough Dad up, not kill him before I convinced him to change his will."

My stomach twisted. For a moment I thought I was going to throw up, but I got myself under control. "You killed Wu."

"
I
didn't." The gun wavered in his hand, and his eyes filled with sorrow. "It shouldn't have happened. I only wanted Dad to recognize that I was the best choice. It was always about you."

He was right. Our childhood was littered with examples of Wu ignoring Paul's accomplishments.

"Dad didn't know I existed. It's not right for the firstborn to grow up in the shadow of his sister.
It's not right
."

It wasn't, but it didn't justify any of this. "Paul—"

"Do you remember my high school graduation?" His voice wavered with emotion. "I was valedictorian, and I'd spent a week practicing my speech, 'My Father, My Greatest Hero.' I was going to surprise Dad at the ceremony."

"But—"

"But he didn't even show up," Paul yelled. "He was too busy training his precious marked warrior. He always ignored me because I was missing what's basically a flaw."

Jesse stepped forward. "Paul—"

"
I'm not finished
." He aimed the gun with sudden steadiness at Jesse's heart, but his attention stayed focused on me. "Remember the old
Batman
episodes we used to watch, Gabby? Every bad guy got his big info dump at the end. You can't deny me my moment."

Not sure what to say or do, I gaped at him in shock.

"I said all those things to you at Mom's funeral out of guilt and hurt, but it worked out in the end. You left. I thought for sure Dad would start noticing me. That he'd see I was the better choice to carry on the Guardianship. But no, I wasn't
enough
."

He began to pace, muttering almost like he was talking to himself. "I graduated summa cum laude. I started my own business. I have money, power, and the respect of the most successful men in the country. But my own father still wouldn't respect me." He shook his head. "And like an idiot, I tried and tried to get him to accept me. It was finally working, but I got impatient and sent Chivo to speed things up. He was only supposed to rough Dad up."

Tears flowed down Paul's cheeks. I gulped thickly, scared, horrified, and speechless.

Without warning, his gaze flew to mine. The gleam in his eyes chilled my blood and gave me goose bumps. "As if that fuckup wasn't bad enough, he couldn't even retrieve the scroll from you."

Wait a minute. "He didn't take the scroll? Then who—"

"I did," Jesse said so only I heard him.

My mouth fell open.

But before I found my tongue, Paul hissed. "That was Chivo's last mistake."

He'd killed the thug, too. Oh, God. "What happened to you?" I whispered.

His face became hard. "You happened to me. Wu knew I'd be a better Guardian, but still he picked you."

"He didn't pick me. I was marked."

His laugh chilled me. "Even the universe picked you."

"Paul—"

"This is your fault, Gabby," he said coolly. "If you had just accepted my help, everyone would be happy. You'd be able to paint in peace, I'd have my place in our family, and we'd still be close." He held the gun steady, pointing it at my head. "But you fucked it all up."

Jesse pushed me behind him. "I still have the scroll, and I'm willing to deal."

I blinked. No, he didn't.

Paul didn't look like he believed him, either. "Where is it?"

He jerked his chin forward. "In the garage."

"Get it."

Jesse shook his head. "Let Gabe go, and then I'll give it to you."

Paul barked a laugh. "What kind of fool do you take me for?"

Nodding, I murmured, "Yeah, I almost snorted at that, too."

Jesse flashed me an exasperated look. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Any side that doesn't point a gun at me." I raised my voice. "How about we all go get the scroll?"

The men paused. I could feel Jesse's disapproval at my suggestion, but frankly he had no choice. Paul wasn't going to let me go—not after confessing to one murder and being accessory to another. Our best chance of sur- vival was to get into the garage, where there was more cover and potential for more distractions.

Paul waved the gun. "Fine. Go. And don't try anything. I won't hesitate to shoot you in the back."

"That's shocking," I muttered.

Jesse pinched my waist and then pushed me in front of him.

His protectiveness made me sad, which in turn pissed me off. "A little late for the chivalrous impulses, don't you think?"

"No."

"Shut up," Paul commanded from behind us.

"Think about this, Paul," I said loudly as Jesse guided me to the other side of a table that had all sorts of tools on it. I saw a large metal cabinet and knew instinctively that was our goal. "You don't have to do this. Let it all go, and we'll call it even. We can all go on with our lives."

"It's not that easy, Gabby." The despair in his voice pained me. "I need it. I need to prove I'm worthy."

"If this is about Wu—"

"It's about everything," he interrupted. "Wu, Mom—"

"Mom?" Something in his voice made me freeze. I turned around and stepped out from behind Jesse. The illumination from the office cast shadows across the sharp plains of Paul's face, making him look sinister. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't you ever wonder why Mom rushed out to where you and Dad were practicing that day?" He shook his head mournfully. "You were so quick to take the blame it never occurred to you that maybe you weren't the only one at fault."

My breath choked me. I felt Jesse's hand on my back, but I shrugged away from it and took a step toward my brother. "What are you saying?"

"I told Mom you were badly hurt." All the emotion fell away from his face, and his voice became wooden. "I thought it'd distract you into making a mistake so Dad would see how unfit you were. I didn't mean for her to rush out like that. I didn't mean for her to die." His eyes pleaded with me. "I'm sorry."

"
You bastard
," I shrieked. I leapt forward and would have attacked him if Jesse hadn't grabbed the back of my jacket and jerked me behind the metal cabinet. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him draw the gun from his waistband as he dived after me.

I felt the bullet strike the cabinet right before I heard the loud crack of gunfire. Jesse leaned to one side and fired off a few shots at Paul.

Head in my hands, I closed my eyes and saw it all over again—Mom standing in front of me, shock widening her eyes as
tu ch’i
hit her. I saw her collapsing, and then I was kneeling next to her. She gasped like a fish out of water, and I lifted her head, trying to help her. She stared at me, only this time I recognized the expression in her eyes to be relief, not recrimination or accusation. Relief that I was okay.

A willing sacrifice to keep me safe.

A senseless death because of my brother's jealousy.

The bastard.

Withdrawing the knife from my pocket, I shifted to my knees and scooted to the other side. As I was about to pounce around the corner, Jesse grabbed my jacket again and yanked me backward.

"Ow." I hissed, scowling at him. "That hurt my ass."

He hissed back just as harshly. "What the fuck are you thinking? He has a
gun
."

I looked down at the knife I clenched in my hand. "I can take him."

"Idiot," he muttered. A barrage of shots hit the cabinet, and he jumped to cover my body.

I looked up into his concerned face, confused and not a little brokenhearted. "Why?"

He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "I owed him. Figured it'd be an easy way to pay my debt. I didn't count on falling in love with you. And then I couldn't do it anymore."

"But you did." I ducked as a bullet pinged on the floor next to us.

"Shit." He rolled us to the left and shot off several rounds before glancing down at me again. "That night Chivo attacked you—"

I gasped. "You knew about that?"

"I saw it," he said as he reloaded gun. "I followed you and was about to step in when you took him out. Good moves, babe."

"Thanks." There was, perhaps, a touch of sarcasm in my voice.

"I saw you drop the scroll, and I picked it up before he came to. I was going to return it to you right away."

"Right."

"I was. I hoped you'd confide in me. I was waiting for you to trust me." His gaze was filled with regret as he brushed the hair back from my face. "Wait here."

"Wait—" I reached to grab him, but he rolled off of me and jumped up shooting. The volley of returning fire made me cringe, but I shifted so I could look around the corner of the cabinet.

Jesse hid behind a car that was seriously riddled with bullet holes. I couldn't see Paul, but I thought he was hiding behind another car, based on the sound of gunfire. I sat in a crouch, surveying my options.

No arsenal at my disposal.

Wait for the police? I shook my head. Jesse's garage was located on a strip that was completely abandoned at night. The chances that someone would hear and call the cops were slim.

There was a shelf over the spot where I thought Paul was hiding—if I could create a strong enough earthquake to cause the shelf to fall, he could get knocked out.

Totally doable. If I could get
tu ch’i
out of my mental safe place. And if I could control it enough so it did what I wanted it to do.

Two very big ifs. I closed my eyes and focused.

A bullet ricocheted off my cover, startling me out of concentration. Too close. I needed to make something happen—fast. Trying to ignore the violent gunfire, I visualized the trap door.

There it was: thick and dusty and heavy with a gigantic lock securing the latch. I felt for any mental pockets where the key could be hiding, but I found nothing.

Damn Rhys.

A shot hit the ground to my left, and I stifled a shriek. I hated bullets.

"You aren't going to get out," Paul yelled.

"You aren't going to get the scroll," I yelled back.

"We'll see about that."

I heard gunfire and then a grunt.

"Jesse?" I couldn't see anything, so I rolled the cabinet until I saw him propped against the car he was using as a shield. He gripped his shoulder, and even in the darkness I could see the grimace on his face. "Jesse!"

"Stay there," he said through clenched teeth. "I'm good."

"You are not good." I scooted myself and the cabinet toward him.

A bullet pinged off the metal drawer, and I yelped as I ducked. Jesse yelled, "Damn it, Gabe, stay back!"

Right. Like I was going to sit here and let him get shot up by my insane brother. He might have sold me out, but I still didn't want to see him hurt.

Focus
. Squeezing my eyes shut, I went back to the trap door. It was my safe place—I should be able to open it. I mentally felt around it, looking for weaknesses. I yanked on the latch, but it didn't budge.