by C. J. Lyons
Clint appeared at the top of the stairs. Holding a gun on Andre. What the hell was Andre doing here? She didn’t have time to come up with an answer as she skidded to a stop and raised her pistol. “Andre, down!”
Then Clint showed her his other hand. The one with the dead man’s trigger and a suicide vest bristling with explosives. “Stop right there or he dies.”
“You mean you both die.”
“Fine with me, little girl. One more step, and I’ll kill us all.”
Morgan stopped. She was about fifteen feet away, only three tables between her and Andre. The blare of the alarms continued, but it was as if her hearing and vision had narrowed to a focused cone; she had no problem hearing Clint.
“Let him go,” she yelled across the empty space.
“Why should I?” Clint answered amicably. As if they had all the time in the world.
She hoped that meant that he and Gibson had no more bombs ready to go off. She risked a glance over the railing to her left, wasn’t all that surprised to see Jenna standing in the atrium, holding a weapon on Gibson.
“Tell you what,” Clint continued, mistaking her hesitation for weakness. “You come join us, and I’ll keep him alive. We’ll all leave together.”
Andre shook his head despite Clint jamming the pistol into his cheek. She remembered what Pete had said back in the cabin before she tore his face apart. He’d said she’d kill a hostage before she let them be used against her.
She moved her aim from Clint to Andre, surprised her pistol wasn’t shaking. The rest of her felt as if it was, shaking so hard she had to blink back tears. Then she lowered the gun, her arm dropping uselessly to her side. “Take me instead.”
Clint’s laughter was as wicked as she remembered. “Interesting. You’d leave all these people to die, just to save one man?”
Jenna could handle Gibson. No one else would die here. Not tonight. But Clint didn’t need to know that.
“Let him go. Take me instead.” She set her pistol on the table beside her, raised her hands.
“Why would you do that?” He sounded genuinely interested. “You know what I’m going to do to you, the price of betrayal.”
“I know. But he’s family.”
The look of confusion and resentment that twisted Clint’s face was worth all the diamonds she’d prevented him from stealing. Even more priceless was the smile Andre gave her. A smile that stopped her shaking and helped thaw the icy fist that gripped her. No one had ever looked at her that way before, not even Micah. More than grateful or thankful. Proud. Loving. As if her treacherous, bloody, deceitful life was actually worth something.
That smile was everything.
Clint considered. “Only if you wear the vest.” He handed the vest to Andre and nudged him forward. “Take it to her. She puts it on, you’re free to go. Any funny business, and I blow you both up.”
Andre slowly walked toward her, his expression turning thoughtful as he measured his steps. She knew what he was thinking: how far would Clint’s detonator reach? Could they dump the vest and run fast enough to escape the explosion? Maybe if he threw it over the side into the courtyard below…his gaze angled that way and a frown filled his face. Too many people, including Jenna.
In the end, he stopped halfway between them and slid the vest on, snapping the padlock that secured it shut.
“Andre, no!” Vest or no vest, she rushed to him.
“Only way.” His voice was low, for her ears alone. “Tell Jenna—”
“She knows.” Lock picks, she needed lock picks. Damn it. She’d lost her barrettes, her sunglasses, anything useful. “Why—”
“You know why. I’m sorry no one’s told you before now. It shouldn’t be this way. You deserve better, Morgan.”
She blinked hard against tears. She didn’t cry, she reminded herself. She never cried. “I don’t understand.”
He was backing away, almost to Clint. “Because you’re family. And you’re worth it.” Clint grabbed him by the arm. “Never forget that, Morgan Ames.”
Clint pulled him to the stairs. Morgan reached for her gun, but who was she going to shoot? Not Clint or he’d use the dead man’s switch to kill them all.
Andre? It would be the humane thing to do, spare him whatever Clint had planned. She squeezed one eye shut, trying to lock in her aim, but her hand was trembling. Once again, she lowered the weapon in defeat. God help her, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t take the shot.
They vanished down the stairs, and the world returned in a rush of noise so furious she staggered against the railing, fighting to remain upright. She watched Clint push Andre before him toward the exit.
Jenna shouted. “Stop!”
Clint whirled, saw Jenna holding her weapon on Gibson, and actually laughed. Then he raised his hand with the pistol, aimed, and shot Gibson. He shoved Andre out the exit without looking back.
Gibson staggered, grabbing his arm. Morgan was surprised Clint had hit him at all, given the distance and distractions. Gibson shouted Clint’s name. But it was too late. Clint and Andre were gone.
Jenna ran toward the exit, following Clint and Andre.
“Jenna, no!”
“It should have been you,” Jenna shouted back, her voice choked with smoke and fury.
Morgan kept her sights on Gibson. She couldn’t shoot him, not if he still had his own dead man’s switch. Besides, there were too many people on the lower level, most of them wounded. He jerked his head up at Jenna’s sudden departure, glanced around in surprise as if not sure what to do next.
Still clutching his arm, Gibson scuttled to a spot immediately below Morgan, crossing into her blind spot.
Suddenly she knew where he was headed—the last place anyone would look for a mad bomber while the place was being evacuated and the one place where he had control of everything, from the alarms to the locks to the sprinkler system: the security office.
Exactly where she’d sent Micah to wait.
Chapter 26
MORGAN WAS TORN. Gibson was heading right toward Micah, but Clint was escaping with Andre. Trusting Jenna to follow Clint and Andre—as much as she hated that option, she knew Jenna would never endanger Andre—Morgan raced down the stairs.
As she arrived on the lower floor, the fire sprinklers finally activated, adding the pounding water to the smoke and confusion. She turned away from the atrium and headed back beneath the stairs to the security office. The door was ajar, although the keypad was blinking red. Pistol in hand, she burst into the office.
It was empty. Except for Micah, his face cast in stark shadow by the glow of the monitors surrounding him, standing over Gibson. Micah’s hand was raised, fist ready to strike, as he whirled to face Morgan. Gibson cowered beneath the monitors, both hands trying to stop his nose from bleeding, his one arm also smeared with blood.
“Clint shot me,” he moaned. “He left me behind.” His cocky smile was gone; he seemed shaken as much by Clint’s betrayal as from his wounds.
Her gaze went from one to the other then back to Micah. “Nice work.”
“He had this—I think he was going to blow up Andre and Clint.” He handed her a cell phone. “Or maybe more bombs.”
“He deserved it. He betrayed me,” Gibson muttered, his eyes glazed, the whites showing all around.
Micah crouched and quickly searched Gibson, removing everything from his pockets. Morgan didn’t help, she was too busy scanning the monitors for signs of Clint and Andre.
“I saw what you did,” Micah said, his tone tentative. “Were you really going to wear that vest? Go with your father to save Andre?”
“Yes.” She spotted Jenna weaving through the crowd streaming out of the mall, followed her through the cameras as she left the throng behind and began to make her way through the parked cars. Emergency response vehicles were rolling in, their lights strobing in the grainy security footage, making it difficult to see.
“Why? Was it because you knew your father wouldn’t actually hurt you?�
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She understood that he needed to make sense of everything that happened today. It would be quicker to give him a lie that served as an easy answer. But she couldn’t. “No. Clint would hurt me. He would kill me. But he’ll do worse to Andre if I can’t stop him.”
Micah stood at her side, flipping through more of the cameras. “Why does he hate Andre so much?”
“He doesn’t.” She spotted movement at the far end of the employee lot. “He doesn’t even know Andre. He’d hurt him to hurt me.”
“Because he hates you that much?” Confusion clouded his voice. Micah had two loving mothers, was wanted and cherished. Her world was as foreign as life on Mars to someone like him.
She zoomed in on the camera. Two men skirting the shadows. Had to be Clint and Andre. “No. Because he wants me that much. To Clint that’s the same as love. And hate.” She shrugged. “Don’t try to make sense of it.” She noted the parking row Clint turned down and turned to leave. “You okay watching Gibson? The cops will be here soon, and the fire doesn’t seem to be spreading.”
Micah nodded. “Go. I have this.” Before she could move he startled her by grasping her elbows. Then he did something she totally did not understand—but wished with all her might that she did. He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. “When this is over, come find me.”
No idea how to respond, she did what came natural. She shoved her confusion aside, turned, and ran.
<><><>
JENNA RACED THROUGH the parking lot, heading to the rear of the mall where employees left their cars. Clint would never risk getting caught in the maelstrom of panicked shoppers escaping Gibson’s firebombs, he’d make sure his escape route was clear. As she circled around the corner, she spotted movement at the end of the row of cars, near the exit from the lot. A silver SUV with tinted windows. Light from an open door illuminated a man for a split second on the passenger side of the vehicle. Clint. But where was Andre? Already in the SUV? The door slammed shut and the light went out.
“Stop and show me your hands,” she shouted as she ran toward Clint, keeping several cars between them for cover.
“Don’t come any closer,” he yelled back, turning to face her. He raised his hand high so she could see he wasn’t holding a gun. Rather he held some kind of detonator. “I mean it. I’ll blow it all sky high.”
Did he have control of the explosives in the mall, not Gibson? She hesitated. Could she risk it? But he was so close, and she couldn’t let him take Andre as hostage. She skirted the next car, still heading toward Clint.
“Drop it,” she called out.
He laughed. “I really don’t think you want me to do that. I’ll end us both before I go back to prison.”
She couldn’t shoot him, not if the detonator had a dead man’s switch. But she also couldn’t let him go—not when he could still blow up the mall or kill Andre. She kept her pistol aimed on him.
“I’ll kill myself and your partner. You know I’ll do it, Jenna.”
She hated that he knew her name. The way he said it made her cringe, not only in revulsion, but in remembered fear. Fear of when he’d held her captive. Not this time. She wasn’t his victim. She was the one who was going to stop him once and for all, end this and save Andre. She steeled her will and her voice. “Deactivate the device and put your hands up.”
For a moment she thought he was going to comply. He sidled away from the vehicle, raising both hands. But then he spun and flung himself to the ground.
Before Jenna could react, the world exploded in a blast of noise and a rush of wind that knocked her off her feet. Car alarms shrieked all around her—the only sound that could pierce the ringing in her ears. Flaming debris fell from the sky, bouncing from the pavement that she swore was still moving beneath her.
Hands grabbed her and pulled her along the blacktop, away from the flames, and then hauled her to her feet.
“You okay?” someone shouted. Jenna blinked and Morgan’s face came into focus. But she didn’t care about Morgan. Andre. Where was Andre? She stumbled, turning around, and found herself staring into a maw of black, oily smoke and flames. The SUV. Clint had blown up the SUV. He’d been standing right there—had he killed himself along with Andre?
“Andre!” Jenna screamed even though she couldn’t hear her own voice. She lunged toward the blazing car, but Morgan tackled her. They both ended up on the pavement.
“No,” Jenna sobbed. But even she could see that no one could have survived the explosion. “No.”
Clint warned her. Told her what he’d do. And now Andre was dead, and it was all her fault.
Morgan was hugging her, holding her in place as if worried that Jenna would try to leap into the flames. Jenna turned in her embrace, pushing back to give herself room. She raised a hand, used it to wipe her tears, surprised that it came away streaked with blood and mucus, and stared at it for a long moment. Then she stared at Morgan.
It wasn’t Jenna’s fault that Andre was dead.
She slapped Morgan so hard her hand stung with the blow. Morgan, for the only time since Jenna had met her, was caught off-guard, the slap rocking her back against the car behind her. Her eyes blazed, the whites showing around her dark pupils, and she held one hand to her cheek. Then, without saying a word, she climbed to her feet.
“Where are you going?” Jenna spat the words with all the venom and pain that pulsed through her veins. Somehow she was standing as well, even though she didn’t remember exactly how she’d gotten there.
Morgan’s gaze raked the parking lot, ignoring the burning SUV. “I’m going to find Clint. I’m going to find him, and then I’m going to kill him.”
“You idiot!” Jenna was screaming and didn’t care. “Clint’s dead—he just blew himself up, along with Andre.”
Morgan frowned. Uncertainty danced across her face. Jenna might have even enjoyed seeing her flustered if the circumstances had been different.
“No,” Morgan said slowly. “No. He wouldn’t kill himself.”
“He would if the alternative was going back to prison. He’s dead. And he took Andre with him.”
“Maybe…” She shook her head. “No. We need to find the truth.”
She walked away, vanishing into the smoke. Leaving Jenna alone.
Chapter 27
MORGAN HEADED BACK toward the mall, but a cordon of local police were controlling the entrance, guarding the first responders who were getting the wounded out. She fell back, using the anonymity of the crowd, pausing only to lift a cell phone from one of the unsuspecting gawkers.
She dialed Micah. He answered just as Jenna arrived, favoring Morgan with a death glare.
“Micah, ask Gibson if there are any more bombs,” she said, putting the phone on speaker and holding it so Jenna could hear above the sound of the crowd and the fire trucks.
“He says no.”
“What about at the arena?” Jenna put in.
There was another pause. “He says those are a diversion. Says the plan was for him and Clint to leave together, Clint was going to have Gibson wear the suicide vest in case anyone tried to stop them.”
A glimmer of hope crossed Jenna’s face. “So the vest was a fake?”
A longer pause. “No. He says it was real. Just in case Clint had to take someone inside the store hostage.”
“Right out of the Kroft brothers’ playbook,” Jenna muttered. “So he and Clint were going to escape in the SUV?”
“No.” This time it was Gibson’s voice. He sounded eager to help—made her wonder how Micah had accomplished that. But not too surprised. Micah was a good listener. “The SUV is rigged to blow. Clint’s plan was to kill one of the brothers in the explosion, the cops would think it was him, give us time to run.”
Morgan met Jenna’s gaze. “There’s another car.”
“There’s another car,” Jenna repeated the words as a prayer. She turned to the phone. “Gibson. What car did Clint take? Where would he go?”
“Silver Toyota.
I don’t know where he’s headed.” Gibson’s tone turned spiteful. “But do me a favor, and when you find him, put a bullet through his head.”
Jenna clenched her jaw. “Micah, stay put. There’s going to be a lot of people who want to talk to you and Gibson. Just tell them what you told us.”
“Where are you and Morgan going?” Micah asked.
“Not sure yet, but we’ll let you know once we figure it out.” Jenna hung up before Morgan could say anything. “So. Where are we going?”
“You weren’t invited.” Last thing Morgan needed was Jenna slowing her down—or worse, rushing in and forcing Clint’s hand.
“Hell I wasn’t.”
Morgan didn’t have time for Jenna’s theatrics. “I can’t save Andre if I’m watching out for you as well.”
“Like I’d trust you to watch my back. Besides, this isn’t about you or me coming back alive. It’s about Andre. Period.”
“So if it comes down to a choice…” Morgan already knew who she’d choose, and she already knew who Jenna would choose. The hard one to convince would be Andre. His stubborn heroics were what had gotten them into this to start with. No matter that he’d been saving Morgan’s life at the time…in fact, that only made things worse. He was a good man, deserved so much better than what life had thrown at him—and yet, he’d been willing to sacrifice it all for her.
She couldn’t rest, not with that burden weighing her down. From the haunted look in Jenna’s eyes, Jenna felt the same.
“If it comes down to it, we knock him out, do what needs to be done, and drag him out of there. You good with that?” Jenna asked.
“Absolutely. Where’s your car?”
Jenna led her through the parking lot, skirting the crowd and the first responders. Straggling lines of cars converged at the main exits, people fleeing the scene and caught in a massive traffic jam. “Damn, this will take all night.”