Young Truths (Young Series) (46 page)

“Oh, it was real,” Reilly says, kneeling beside Samantha again. Apparently I’ve spoken out loud again. He reaches out to trail a finger down her cheek and I have the desire to break that finger. He’s still pointing his gun at me. “Maybe not at first, but it didn’t take much for me to change my mind about her. I mean, really, how could
you not fall in love with her?”

I hate that I agree with that statement.

“She never really went along with it, though; she was pretty insistent about keeping me firmly in the friend zone. Wouldn’t have stopped me if she hinted that she wanted more. I’m sure I can convince her to give me a chance after this. After all, she’s going to be mourning the loss of her husband.”

“So that’s the plan?” I ask. “You’re going to kill me and take Samantha for yourself?”

“Yeah, why not?” he says conversationally, grinning. “And don’t worry about your kids; I’ll take good care of them.”

The only thing stopping me from tackling him is the gun now aimed at my head. Obviously he
knows all the reckless thoughts running through my mind. “You stay the fuck away from my family,” I threaten. “You want to kill me, fine. Don’t touch them.”

“You really don’t understand how this whole hostage thing works, do you, Matt?” he asks, amusement infused in every word. “You don’t get to state the terms of how things happen. That’s my role. All you’re supposed to do is sit here and wait until I’ve sorted out all the arrangements, and once I do—”

A faint buzzing can be heard. Both Reilly and I look around for the source, and when he zeros in on Samantha’s pocket, I consider making my move. “You just sit tight,” Reilly tells me, cocking the hammer of his gun. “Unless you want your blood covering this room, of course; and in case you’re wondering, I’m perfectly willing to arrange that if you wish.” He keeps his eyes trained on me as his hands trail all over my wife’s unconscious body, grabbing at places that have nothing to do with searching for a cell phone. He glances at the screen briefly. “You know this number?”

I look. “No,” I lie. Apparently Marcus has a sixth sense for knowing when I’m in some state of trouble. I wonder vaguely whether he’s worked out where we are yet.

“I think you’re lying,” Reilly says in mock-disappointment. “Not that it really matters at this point. Everything is moving forward nicely. And speaking of, I need to make a few calls of my own. The one useful thing Frank did tonight was to get your phone off you during your little scuffle. Well, that and the handcuffing.” He carefully advances on me, clearly realizing I’m just reckless enough to ignore the gun in his hand the second he’s occupied with something else. “Obviously, you have no regard for your own life, so...” He turns the gun on Samantha. “One fucking move and I empty what’s left in this gun into her. I don’t want to have to do that, but you’re not really leaving me with much choice, are you?”

Predictably, the threat stops me from doing anything
aside from letting him cuff me again.

“And don’t bother with the doors; they won’t be opening anytime soon.”

With that, Reilly heads through the door into the front of the building. The moment the door is locked behind him, I get as close to Samantha as the handcuffs allow. “Sam,” I whisper urgently. “Baby, wake up. Please.”

She doesn’t even twitch and I know if she doesn’t get help soon, she might not survive her injury. And there’s nothing I can do about it. The bobby pin she used before to free me is long gone and I can’t reach her to get another from her hair. I’m helpless
, and my only hope right now is that Marcus can figure out what’s happening and come for us. I don’t know what Reilly has planned, and I still don’t fully understand why this is happening; Frank I can understand. He hates me for good reason. But I don’t get is what’s in this for Reilly unless he’s just following through with whatever Frank had planned all along. It’s not as though I really have anything of value to them; even the projects my company is currently working on don’t seem to fit their desires.

Now that I know Reilly is mixed up in this, other things are falling into place. He mentioned Damian Rogers, the bastard that stole the poison from my labs. I never believed Rogers had been the one to actually poison Samantha and until now, I couldn’t think of who it might have been. Now there is no doubt in my mind that Reilly was the one to administer the poison; Samantha trusted him and never would have thought twice about allowing him to pick up lunch for the two of them
, or eat it. He probably dropped the vial on his way out of the bookstore that day, assuming he’d left Samantha for dead.

I hear a crash in the next room followed by strangled curses. With any luck, that’ll be Marcus swooping in to save the day. Again. Heavy footsteps approach the door again and I barely register the soft groan on the floor or the minute movement as the door slams open again. Unfortunately for us, Reilly has returned and he looks positively livid.

“You know what I’m getting sick of?” he asks rhetorically as he steps between Samantha and me. “People who don’t know how to do a job right the first time without getting caught. This whole thing is one big clusterfuck.” He pauses for a few moments, eyeing me thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s what I have to do...”

Clearly he’s talking to himself, so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t even see Samantha very tentatively pushing herself
onto her feet. I keep my gaze locked on him, not wanting to draw attention to what she’s doing. “What’s the matter, Reilly?” I ask with feigned sympathy. “Things not going your way?”

“Fuck you,”
he snaps. For the first time, he looks like a proper psychopath—wide, crazy eyes; hair sticking up in every direction; a strange, crooked grin on his lips. “I’m not waiting any longer. The only way this will work out is if I cut my losses and just go.” He points his gun at me again, right between my eyes. “Don’t worry, Matt, I’ll take good care of Samantha when you’re gone. She doesn’t know I’m involved so of course I can walk right in and be her shoulder to cry on—”

Another gun cocks and Reilly stops mid-sentence, turning slightly to reveal Samantha standing behind him, shakily pointing Frank’s gun at him. Her eyes are glazed over and she seems unsteady on her feet, but somehow focused on what she needs to do. Reilly just stares at her in surprise, his eyes going from the spot on the floor where she’d been to the muzzle of the gun she’s pointing at his chest.

“I trusted you,” she says hoarsely, her words slurring slightly. She has a concussion and looks like she might drop to the floor again any second. “You were my friend.” Reilly manages to push aside his shock, his expression hardening as he advances upon Samantha. As though in slow motion, I see her finger squeeze the trigger, hear the loud bang and the grunt as the bullet hits Reilly, and he crumbles to the floor. Samantha’s entire body begins to shake when she realizes what’s just happened. Her arms go limp and the gun drops to the floor. She’s horrified at her actions; I can see it in her eyes. But there will be time enough later to comfort her.

“Samantha,” I say urgently, needing to divert her attention. Her wide brown eyes brimming with tears meet my gaze. “Get me out of this.” I shake the handcuffs. “We need to leave. I don’t k
now if anybody else is here...”

She snaps out of her daze and follow my directive, quickly picking the handcuff lock once again. When I’m free and on my feet again, I immediately pull her into my arms, needing to feel her against me to reassure me she’s real and safe. She’s shaking so much I wonder briefly if she’s having some sort of seizure. “Come on,” I whisper, holding her against me as much as my injuries would allow. “I think we both need some medical attention.”

We walk past Reilly and Frank—I know Frank is long dead, and I wonder about Reilly, but I’m not sticking around to find out. “Don’t look,” I whisper, trying to block her vision of both men. The sob she chokes out tells me my warning is too late and I limp as quickly as I can to the door to the front of the building. From what I can see, the place is completely empty. I debate searching for our cell phones to call for help, but decide getting Samantha out of here is my top priority. She needs fresh air to keep herself awake. As it is, she’s passing out as we walk.

“Keep your eyes open, Sammy,” I urge. “We’re almost there.”

Just as I finish the sentence, I see blue lights arriving outside the building and I know it’s over. “See?” I whisper to Samantha, approaching the door. “The calvary has arrived.”

Through the windows, I see Marcus jumping out of the first car that arrives and hear his muffled orders for the other agents to surround the building. We approach the door and I’m perfectly prepared to kick through the glass despite the nearly overwhelming pain in my body. I only stop when I hear shuddering breathing behind me and look over my shoulder
to find Reilly stumbling toward us, gun in hand. He lifts the gun, but before he can pull the trigger, glass shatters around us and he drops to the floor again. This time I know he’s dead; the bullet hit him right between the eyes. Samantha’s concussion takes over and she passes out in my arms, but thankfully, a team of FBI agents, led by Marcus West are rushing towards us. Marcus reaches us first and takes in the situation.

He’s shaking his head. “You can’t stay out of trouble for one fucking day, can you?” he asks, reaching to take Samantha from me.

“Don’t touch her,” I snap, my voice little more than a croak.

Marcus pulls his hands away, raising his arms in a gesture of surrender. “Okay,” he says placatingly. “
Okay, I won’t take her. But at least let me help you get her out. You look like you’re going to be the next one to drop...”

I can’t argue with him there as I allow him to put an arm around my wife’s waist and guides both of us out of the building. The lights and noise around us become too much for my brain to process and just as Marcus pre
dicted, I’m unconscious before I hit the ground.

Hours have gone by since Marcus and his team got to us, and since then, Samantha and I have been in the hospital getting treatment for our injuries. We were separated upon arrival and I absolutely refused treatment until they put me in the same room as her. Finally they relented and while I was receiving stitches and having my broken ribs wrapped, my eyes never left her unconscious body. She lost quite a bit of blood from the blow to the head and her skull has once again been fractured, but the doctors are confident she’ll make a full recovery.

Part of me is angry with her for coming aft
er me, putting herself at risk like she did. Part of me is awed that she would do that for me. I think I have a better understanding of how she feels whenever I disregard my own life and safety. It’s maddening and terrifying, and I don’t think it’s possible to love her anymore than I do right now. Tonight she’s proved to me that no matter what happens, she’s as dedicated to me as I am to her. She’d have gone to hell and back if it meant saving me, just as I’d do for her.

It’s all over now. No more loose ends, no more wondering who else is involved in making our lives miserable. Marcus has been in and out of the hospital room to bring me up to speed. Frank Marone and Mark Reilly are both dead. That’s not so surprising. What is surprising is what brought him to town in the first place tonight. Marcus had apparently gone to the apartment looking for m
e with new information about recent events. Damian Rogers’s body was found early yesterday morning—he’d been shot. Marcus isn’t exactly certain who actually pulled the trigger once Rogers proved himself useless in the rest of the plan, but he and I assume it was either Reilly or Frank. Not that it much matters which of them it was at this point; it’s not like there will be a trial.

Along with the body, Marcus received a call from the prison housing Natalie, informing him that there had been an
escape attempt earlier in the day. Natalie was caught sneaking out of the prison infirmary after faking some sort of illness. When I told Marcus about the phone calls Reilly said he was making and the negative reaction he had shortly after, he assumed Reilly was getting word about his half-sister’s thwarted escape attempt.

When Marcus arrived at the apartment and found not only had I gone, but Samantha as well, he put two and two together and came to the conclusion one of us had been taken and the other was setting off on a rescue mission. It didn’t take him long after that to pull up our GPS trackers and call for backup.

“I swear to God, Matt, once this is all sorted, I’m wiping my hands of you,” he grumbled. I only smirked at the threat, knowing he didn’t mean a word of it. “You and your damn family have aged me twenty years in the last one and if I plan on seeing my kids graduate high school, I need to get as far away from you as possible.”

“Let me know how that works out for you,” I muttered, trying to hide my grin.

Marcus hesitated. “There’s something else you need to be aware of, though I’m not sure if now’s the best time to share.”

“What?” I asked.

“We know who killed Lucy,” he said quietly. “The person turned themselves in not long after we got to you and Samantha and gave a full confession along with details only they could have possibly known about the crime scene.”

“Who?”

More hesitation. “Your sister Holly.”

It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I replay that conversation in my head; I still can’t seem to really grasp what I’ve been told. I think back to the other night when I got up while my family slept and the text message I found waiting for me. A picture of Holly and Frank wrapped in a lover’s embrace. I don’t know how Frank got to my sister, but clearly he’s been in her head for months, corrupting her and molding her into something I never believed she could become—a killer. The reasoning for her involvement is still a little unclear, but from what Marcus has gathered, Holly killed Lucy out of spite and jealously. Apparently, my father rewrote his will in last couple years, leaving his company and everything that goes along with it to Lucy rather than one of his children. Holly clearly didn’t approve of this and believed that by getting rid of Lucy, everything would go to her. I can only imagine Frank’s greedy little hands
eagerly rubbing together at the thought of having control over my father’s company, using my sister as a tool to get whatever he wanted.