Saint/Sinner (10 page)

Jack shot him again, this time aiming for the chest, but the suited man was surprisingly swift for someone of his size (the guy had to be well over six-two, and bulky), and Jack’s round hit him in the side of the neck instead. The man collapsed, the Uzi that was clutched in his hand clattering to the floor before he did.

There was no time for Jack to enjoy his success, because loud crashing sounds exploded from the front of the house as Monroe’s other men assaulted the door. Hearing the chaos, Jack wanted to laugh out loud. Not only at Monroe’s lies, but also at his own gullibility.

Jesus Christ, he had almost believed the guy there for a second!

As if it was going to be that easy. You
idiot.

Jack switched the rifle back to full-auto just as two men staggered through the gaping hole that was the back door. They saw their dead comrade and one of them froze, which was a mistake, because Jack put three rounds dead center into his chest.

The second one was smarter and faster, and he ran forward and slid for cover behind the granite island countertop inside the kitchen. Jack sent a few bullets in his direction anyway, smashing the countertop and
pinging!
one round off the refrigerator, adding to the dent already there from when he tried to pick off Allie earlier.

A loud
crash!
as the front door gave under the assault.

Jack turned and fled into the back of the house even as he heard Monroe shouting, “Watch your fire! Watch your fire!”

Walter,
Jack thought.
They want Walter alive, remember?

Then:

I can work with that…

“Fucking dog,” Jerry
said.

“His name’s Apollo,” Allie said.

“Fuck his name.”

“Classy.”

“I got more where that came from.”

“Spare us.”

“Your loss.”

Allie picked up the MP5SD from the floor, but she could tell it was empty by the weight. That wasn’t a surprise, given the state of the second floor hallway; Jerry had unloaded the entire magazine at her. The fact that she had come through unscathed, with only a few nicks here and there from flying debris, was still hard for her to accept.

I should be dead. Jesus, I should be dead right now…

Jerry was leaning back against a tarp-covered armchair, smearing blood that was trickling out of his shoulder into the fabric. He was trying to stanch the bleeding with one gloved hand, the other stretching not-so-subtly toward the handgun lying a few feet from him. He would have lunged for the weapon if a white dog, fur speckled with dried blood, wasn’t growling at him.

“Go ahead,” Allie said. “See if you can reach the gun before he takes a bite out of your neck, the way he did Jones back at the house.”

Jerry grunted and pressed his hand over the other one instead, to help with the bleeding. Apollo eased up and sat down on his haunches, though his eyes never left the man in black.

Allie picked up the handgun from the floor. It was a Sig Sauer and still had a full magazine, so she pushed it into her front waistband to replace the empty Glock she had tossed away.

“Spares?” she asked, pulling the magazine out of the submachine gun just to be sure she hadn’t misjudged the weight. She hadn’t.

Jerry shook his head. “That was the last one.”

“Didn’t think you’d need more than three, huh?”

“Guess not.”

“Too bad for you.”

“Guess so.”

She laid the MP5SD on a dusty tabletop and drew the Sig Sauer. “I bet you have spares for this.”

Jerry didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. She crouched next to him and rifled through his pockets and struck gold with two magazines for the Sig. Then she pulled out and tossed his Ka-Bar knife, watched it vanish underneath another tarp-covered furniture.

In another pouch, she found a bundle of plastic cuffs. “What are these for?”

“Just in case.”

“Why so many?”

“Like I said, just in case.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I told Jack we should have put you into one of them.”

“You should have insisted on it.”

“Yeah, I guess I should have.”

“Your mistake.”

“One of many, from the looks of it.” He sighed. “It was supposed to be an easy job.”

“That’s what happens when you assume.”

He smirked, but didn’t say anything.

She stood and looked up to the second floor. “Lucy, you can come down now.”

Apollo got up and walked over to the bottom of the stairs as Lucy came down. He got a nice scratch on the head and under the chin for his effort.

Allie turned back to Jerry. “What do you want with Walter?”

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?” Jerry said.

“Because you’re here, and he’s not. What do you want with Walter?”

“You’re asking the wrong person, lady. I’m just the hired help.”

She stared at him. Jerry had baby blue eyes, but there wasn’t anything particularly attractive about him. He looked almost
too
normal, which wasn’t something she expected from people capable of so much violence. Then again, who was she to judge? People looked at her and they didn’t see a woman who had spent ten years of her life hunting down her sister’s killer. She’d spent the last two years of her life putting up a façade that had, until tonight, been completely convincing.

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

“Which part?”

“Both.”

“Too bad,” Jerry said, when they both heard the very faint
pop-pop-pop
of gunfire coming from a distance.

She glanced toward the front of the house, as did Lucy and Apollo.

“Did you hear that?” Lucy asked.

“It’s coming from the house,” Allie said.

“Dad…”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Allie said, trying very hard to be convincing. “They won’t hurt him, remember? They need him.” She looked back at Jerry. “What’s happening at the house?”

“Good question,” Jerry said.

“You don’t know?”

“Not a clue.”

“I don’t believe you. I think you’re lying.”

“That seems to be a theme tonight. A lot of people doing a lot of lying.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“But what’s happening back there now, I don’t have a fucking clue,” Jerry said.

She didn’t say it, but she believed him. Jerry looked just as uncertain (maybe even more confused) about what was happening back at Walter’s house.

So what
was
happening back there?

A voice, very faint, whispering somewhere in the semidarkness.

She leaned toward Jerry. “What?”

“What?” he said back.

Then she remembered: Jerry, walking through the house,
talking to someone on the radio.

She reached over and snapped the earbud out of his ear and slipped it into hers, just in time to hear Jack’s voice:

“Jerry, goddammit, come in. You still out there?”

She didn’t answer him, but unclipped Jerry’s radio and took a step back. “Looks like your friend’s in trouble.”

“Sounds that way,” Jerry said.

“You don’t look very concerned.”

“We’re not exactly BFFs.”

“You’re strangers.”

“Basically.”

“Who hired you?”

Jerry grinned at her, but didn’t say anything.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“You asking me all these questions, thinking I know the answers to them.”

“Don’t you?”

“I’m expendable, toots. We all are. That’s why they put us together for this one job. We either get it done and get paid handsomely for our troubles, or we fail and no one hears from us again.”

“Sounds like a shitty job.”

“It keeps the lights on.”

“Unless you fail.”

“There’s always that.” He grimaced and shot a glance at his shoulder.

“Hurts?” she asked.

“What do you think?”

“I think if I’m smart, I should shoot you right now so you can’t do any more damage.”

“You’re right; that would be the smart thing to do,” he nodded.

She stared at him, wondering if he really meant that—if he was that ready to die—or if this was just a poor job of putting on a brave front. She couldn’t tell either way. Jerry had a strangely subdued expression on his face, as if he had already come to peace with his situation. Maybe the man really didn’t care if he died or not after tonight.

It was a moot point anyway. Maybe once upon a time she could have murdered a man in cold blood, but those days were behind her.

“But I’m not a killer,” she said.

“Didn’t think so,” he said, smiling back at her.

*

While she couldn’t
justify shooting Jerry where he sat bleeding, Allie had no problems marching him to the master bedroom on the second floor and tying him up with one of his own plastic handcuffs, then leaving him on the bed shouting muffled obscenities into the handkerchief she’d stuffed into his mouth.

Lucy was waiting for her downstairs, the girl rubbing her arms to keep back the cold and anxiously looking over her shoulder in the direction of Walter’s house. Apollo walked over to Allie, his nails
clack-clack-clacking
against the tiled floor. He rubbed his head against one of her legs, then sat down and waited.

“Did you find a phone?” she asked the girl.

Lucy shook her head. “I looked everywhere. There isn’t one in the entire place. I even turned on some lights just to be sure.”

Allie nodded. She’d told Lucy to only turn on the lights if she needed to. She didn’t think Jack was out there looking for them—the chances of him leaving Walter at this juncture was zero to none, especially with Jones out of the picture—but she didn’t want to take the chance.

The lack of phones, on the other hand, didn’t surprise her. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a landline in her own apartment. Walter didn’t have one at his home, either. All three of them used cellphones exclusively, except for when they were at work. Gorman and Smith, like most businesses, still kept landlines around.

“What about Dad?” Lucy asked.

“I’m going back there for him.”

“By yourself?”

Allie nodded. “We can’t call the cops, and I’m not sure how effective firing more bullets into the air would do. If someone was going to hear them, they would have by now. I wish we could wait for daylight, but I don’t think your dad’s going to last that long.”

“What do you mean?” When she didn’t answer fast enough, the girl said, “Allie? What do you mean he might not last that long?”

She walked over to the girl and put both hands on her thin shoulders, then squeezed them. “They showed us their faces, remember? They wouldn’t have shown us their faces if they were going to let us go after all of this is over. You, me, your dad. They need him, but only until they can get what they want from him. After that…”

The girl nodded somberly, and Allie thought,
She’s so much stronger than I gave her credit for. I guess we were both hiding our true selves from one another all this time.

“Do you know why all of this is happening?” Lucy asked.

“I don’t,” Allie said. “I didn’t even know your dad made enough at Gorman and Smith to have a second house out here until he asked me to take this trip with you two.”

“He bought it three years ago…”

“How?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did he finance it? Or did he buy it with cash?”

Lucy shook her head. “I don’t know. What does that have to with anything?”

Maybe nothing, but maybe everything,
she thought, but said, “I guess it doesn’t.”

“If you’re going back there for Dad, then I’m coming with you.”

“No. You’re safer waiting for me here.”

“Allie…”

“Don’t argue with me.” But Lucy looked like she was going to argue anyway, so Allie squeezed her shoulders again and put on her best forced smile. “I hate to say it, Lucy, but I’m better off doing this by myself. Well, not completely by myself,” she added, looking down at Apollo, sitting silently next to them.

“I really think I should come with you…”

“Have you ever fired a gun in your life?”

“No…”

“Shot someone?”

“No…”

“I have. I just shot Jerry. But he wasn’t the first one. And he’s not going to be the last.”

Even in the semidarkness, Allie could see all the questions swirling around behind the girl’s eyes at her statement.

“One of these days I’ll tell you all about it,” Allie said. “For now, I need you to be safe, and that means staying here.” She let go of the teenager’s shoulders. “Now, will you be all right until I come back with your father?”

“I’ll hide if anyone shows up. It’s dark, and there’s a lot of rooms. Just get Dad back, okay?”

“I will,” Allie said. Then, looking at Apollo, “Right?”

He raised his head and stuck out his tongue, licking his nose.

“What does that mean?” Lucy asked.

“That’s a yes,” Allie smiled.

*