Zero at the Bone (49 page)

“Am I?” D asked, sounding like a little boy to his own ears, searching Jack’s eyes.

“Yes, you are. No matter what happens, ’til the day I die.” Jack took a deep breath.

“Just as long as I don’t die at your hand.”

D frowned. “Jack—”

“That’s what she wants, isn’t it? For you to kill me?”

“I’d never hurt you.”

“I know. But….” He looked away for a moment. “I think we both know that there’s things she could do that might make you want to kill me, to stop me from hurting.” Yes, D did know that. He’d lost considerable sleep pondering what he’d do in that situation, which seemed like just the sort of thing Josey might be planning. “Maybe.”

“I need you to promise me you won’t.”

“But… Jack—”

“No, D. No matter what she does to me, you swear that you won’t kill me. Even if I beg you to. Whatever happens to me, I don’t want my blood on your hands, because you’ll never be able to wash it off.”

Jack’s words were burning D’s skin like a branding iron. “It don’t matter,” he said.

“If it came ta that, I’d follow right after you.” 226 | Jane Seville

“Just promise me.” Jack was gripping D’s fingers so tight it was starting to hurt. “I won’t help her hurt you. I won’t be part of it. Don’t let her make you do it.” D nodded. “All right,” he choked out. “I promise.” He stared at Jack’s face and wondered if he’d ever hold this man again, make love to him or wake up to the sight of his face on the pillow at his side.

Voices outside the warehouse, running feet. D and Jack just sat there huddled inside the office, fingers interlaced, waiting for their fate to find them.

The door to the warehouse was kicked in. “D!” a voice yelled. “You in here, asshole?”

D peeked around the open door to the office. Two men with large guns were standing at the door. They’d find them in mere seconds either way, and if he acted now, at least he could thin their numbers a little. “Nope!” he yelled, and shot one of them in the chest. He ducked back inside as the other man opened fire with the automatic, the hail of bullets shattering the glass windows above them. Jack had his arms over his head. D

popped his head up again and shot the man with the machine gun, but only winged him.

Four more had joined them, and for an agonizing few seconds all he and Jack could do was try and make themselves as small as possible as Josey’s men poured automatic weapons fire into the small office.

Abruptly, the firing stopped. “D?” came a new voice. A female voice.

Josey.

“Motherfucker,” D whispered. Jack grabbed his face and turned it toward him.

“This is it,” he stammered.

D nodded. “’Fraid so.”

Jack swallowed. “Son of a bitch,” he whispered.

D drew Jack’s face close and kissed him hard. “Follow my lead, and don’t try nothin’,” he murmured. “This shit’s for real.” Jack nodded.

D took a deep breath and got to his feet. He faced out into the warehouse through the shattered windows. “Josey,” he said. Jack was getting up to stand at his side.

She walked forward a few paces. She looked just the same. Practical, flint-eyed, and no-nonsense. “Well. Here’s the infamous Dr. Francisco.” Jack squared his shoulders a little, but said nothing. “Why don’t you both come on out here and be sociable?” Hope was quickly draining from D’s body. No one knew they were here. No one even knew anything was wrong. He was hopelessly outgunned and almost out of ammo.

Josey had six men with her. If it was his time to pay the bill come due for his many crimes, he’d pay it gladly. The best he could hope for now was that he could somehow convince her to spare Jack’s life. He took a deep breath, grasped Jack’s hand, and walked out of the office with him to stand before the woman who would be his executioner. They stood there and waited as one of Josey’s men patted them down, relieving them of their weapons.

Josey’s eyes flicked to their clasped hands. “Hmm. I really wouldn’t have guessed that you swung that way, D.” D stayed silent. “You’ve dragged this out quite a bit longer than it was supposed to go.”

“How
was
it supposed to go?” he asked.

“I’d think that’d be obvious. You kill Francisco, I make an anonymous tip, you’re arrested and executed for the murder of a witness.”

“That’s really it?”

She shrugged. “You’re the one who likes elaborate plans, not me. Yes, that was it.

Simple, straightforward, with an element of poetic justice. At first I was angry that you Zero at the Bone | 227

didn’t kill him, but now it’s all worked out so much better than I could have possibly planned.”

“Your father deserved what he got,” D said, the words out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Josey barely reacted. “I’ve no doubt. He was a mean son of a bitch who never gave two shits about me. You think this is about him? Well… it’s partly about him. I was already wondering how to handle the fact that you were ratting out my operatives to the fucking Bureau when I discovered that you’d killed my father. You might say it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

D gritted his teeth. “I know you got some sorta plan, but I won’t kill Jack.”

“That’s what you think.”

“I’m tellin’ you, I won’t fuckin’ do it.”

She took a step closer. “But you’ve already done it. You’re doing it right now.” D’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck’re you talking ’bout?”

“You killed him when you loved him, D. When you did that, you gave me a way to hurt you.”

Without taking her eyes off D’s face, Josey raised her gun and shot Jack in the stomach.

MEGAN knew she had to make her move soon, or she’d be too weak. She didn’t know how much blood she’d lost, but there was a not-inconsiderable pool beneath the chair at her feet. Petros had only been playing with her so far, though. Little cuts, not-so-little cuts…. He hadn’t taken anything off yet, and he hadn’t pulled anything out. That’d be the next stop.

There was only one thing she could do to get out of this, and he hadn’t given her the opportunity. All he had to do was lean close…. Fuck, she had to get moving. Somewhere D and Jack were in danger.

As if obeying a subconscious desire to obey her wishes, Petros moved in front of her. “I suppose that’s enough of the preliminaries,” he purred. He leaned in close.

Megan lifted her head, which she’d been allowing to sag down to her chest, and smacked her forehead as hard as she could into Petro’s nose. He recoiled and fell on his back.

She drew a deep breath, rocked back, and threw herself forward, planting her feet hard to flip her entire body, chair and all, the front rung landing across Petros’s neck. He made an amusing gurgling noise. She tilted forward, increasing the pressure across his throat. “Where’d they take Jack and D?”

He just glared at her.

“Where?!”

No response.

“Fine, have it your way.” She slid her bound arms up and over the chair back, grabbed his straight-razor from the table nearby and sliced herself free. “I’ll find them myself.” She’d taken no more than a couple of steps before dizziness overtook her. That burst of energy to free herself had taken just about everything she had left.

She heard Petros throw off the chair and get to his feet behind her.
Last chance,
Megs.
She tightened her grip on the straight razor and whirled around, swinging it in a flat arc across his neck.

228 | Jane Seville

He stopped short, his eyes popped wide. Nothing happened for a moment, then a wide mouth opened in his neck and blood poured down his chest. His hands went to his throat but the cut was far too deep for that. Megan watched, gasping, as he slumped to the ground, blood spreading out beneath him.

She went down to her knees, the world graying out around her. She crawled across the floor to her coat and fumbled for her cell phone, forcing her vision to clear enough for her to dial. “Churchill,” said the blessedly unharmed-sounding voice on the other end.

“It’s Megan—”

“What’s wrong?”

“Something’s going down right now. She’s making her move on them right now.

Help them.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Shit, yeah. Just killed Petros.”

“Where are you?”

“Dunno….” She slid to the side and lost it for a moment, her last vestiges of consciousness allowing her to bite her tongue hard and bring her brain back.

“Hang up and call nine-one-one. You’ve got GPS locate, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Do it now. I’ll take care of Jack and D.”

Megan thumbed the end button and stared dumbly at the keypad.
Who’m I supposed
to call?
She faded, the glowing numbers lighting her down into unconsciousness.

TO D, it all happened in slow motion. Josey’s arm coming up, sure and quick, firing just as he realized what she meant to do. Turning toward Jack, seeing the bullet strike him just above the waist on his left side, Jack’s face going slack, his mouth a wide O of shock, D

reaching out toward him in a helpless, involuntary gesture as if he could yank Jack back to wholeness with the pure force of his will.

Shock wiped D’s mind clean of any other consideration as he rejoined the world and everything sped up to normal time again and Jack was on the floor, his hand over his stomach, blood beginning to seep out between his fingers.

He skidded to his knees and hauled Jack into his lap, pressing down on the wound.

Jack was making a high-pitched, keening noise, his teeth clamped shut tight while his wide eyes rolled up toward D’s face.

Josey stepped closer. “That wound isn’t fatal. Well, I should say that it is, but it’ll take a few days.”

D’s rage was too large for his body to contain it. “You motherfucking
bitch,
I am gonna tear yer fuckin’ eyes outta yer skull!” he shouted at her, nearly unintelligible, spittle flying from his lips. Jack choked out an anguished moan of pain and D pulled him closer, one hand on Jack’s head holding it to his own chest. The blood was flowing steadily, but not quickly. It was a precision shot, intentionally placed to cause as much prolonged pain and suffering as possible before causing death from excruciatingly slow exsanguination. Jack’s hand fluttered in the air like a bird with a busted wing before grabbing onto D’s forearm with panicky tightness. “Yer gonna be okay, baby,” he whispered to Jack, pressing his cheek to the top of his head. “You jus’ hang on, try not ta move.” Jack gurgled, his chest heaving…. Jesus, she’d even managed not to hit his lungs, which would have hurried his death along more quickly.

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“He isn’t going to be okay, D.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Don’t give the man false hope; that’s just mean.”

“I WILL GET UP THERE AND RIP YOU APART WITH MY BARE HANDS!” D screamed. He could feel tears pouring down his face and he hated it that she was seeing him so bare, so raw, but that was the least of his worries at the moment.

“Can you stand to watch him die like this? Long, slow, and painful?”

“Don’t you even fuckin’ think it,” D said, his voice choked, trying to hold Jack steady.

“You can end his pain right now, you know.”

“I won’t do it.”

She sighed, a sad and resigned look-what-you’re-making-me-do sigh. “I didn’t think you’d crack that easily.” She raised the gun again and shot Jack in the lower leg.

Jack screamed, writhing in D’s arms as if trying to get out of his own skin.

D clamped his arms tighter around Jack’s torso and gradually became aware that he was screaming “
stop it stop it
” over and over again without having been aware he’d started. Jack fell into a limp semi-daze, shaking and shuddering, whistling moans leaking nonstop from his throat.

“You’re the only one who can stop this, D.”

He stared up at her, a stranger to the hate he felt for her. He’d never hated so fiercely or so hotly in his life. “I’ll do whatever you fuckin’ want; jus’ stop hurtin’ him.

Let him be and I’ll go quietly. You can torture me long as you want, jus’ let Jack go.”

“I think you know that isn’t how this works.”

“Why you hate me this much, huh? Why you gotta put him through this?”

“Rats who run to the Bureau deserve no less, D. Everyone should know it.” Jack was tugging on his shirt. D looked down at him, his face fish-belly pale and covered in sweat and a few stray blood droplets. “You promised,” he whispered.

“Jack, I—”

“Don’t you do it,” Jack said again, the last words lost in another groan of pain, Jack’s body trying to curl in on itself like a pill bug.

D looked down into those eyes, clouded as they were with pain, and felt Jack’s love for him through his whole being, lighting the long-banked fires inside him and illuminating him from within. Jack who’d risked so much for him, Jack who’d stuck by him, Jack who was now willing to suffer in agony for him, Jack who he did not deserve.

Josey was crouching by their side. She had another gun in her hand. “This gun has one bullet in it. Don’t even think about using it on me or any of my guys, because they can shoot you dead before you get the shot off and he will suffer for your mistake. Take it, and show me what happens to people who love you.” D stared at the gun. It was calling him, its voice low and seductive.
He will never
hurt again. He will never be in danger again. He will never live to grow tired of you and
realize how unworthy you are. He will be out of pain, beyond her reach.
The gun was peace, the gun was normality, the gun was everything he’d been for ten years.

The gun could save them both.

He reached out and took it. Jack’s hand grabbed his shirt. “No,” he cried, weakly.

“It’s okay, Jack.” His voice sounded very far away. The gun felt so familiar in his hand. It felt like home. He looked up at Josey, who was nodding as you might to a child who’d pleased you. He smiled at her.

D lifted the gun and pressed the barrel under his own jaw.

230 | Jane Seville

Jack’s tugging on his shirt grew more urgent. “No, no,” he repeated.

“Shh, Jack,” D said. “It’s gonna be okay.”

The smile had fallen off Josey’s face. D guessed that this wasn’t part of her plan.