Mastiff Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

“You choked her.”

  “I thought it was part of the whole making out thing. That’s what Bridgette always did to me.”

  It was an admission Durango hadn’t been expecting. He glanced at his brother, a memory tingling the back of his mind. Had Bridgette really done those things to Billy? He’d assumed he was the only one she touched that way, the only one whose bed she climbed into late at night when she thought he was asleep. He’d always thought her relationship with Billy was more a violent one, her only interest taking her anger out on him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry? I was the one who screwed up. It took time for me to figure out what was normal and what was Bridgette’s fucked up sort of affection.”

  “You shouldn’t have had to figure it out. She shouldn’t have hurt you that way.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me.” It was a little growl filled with anger Durango hadn’t expected. Billy pulled his gun out of his pocket and turned it over and over again in his hands. “I’m not a child to be pitied. I’m a grown man.”

  “I know. But even grown men can be broken by what happened during their childhoods.”

  “My mother sucked. You knew that. Does it really change anything?”

  “She turned you into a killer.”

  Billy shook his head. “She didn’t do that. I did. It was the only way I could find to deal with this ache inside of me. This need for her attention.”

  “That’s what you want? Her attention?”

  “She was my mother. She was the first woman in my life, the only woman who seemed to care.”

  “And these other women?”

  “Poor substitutes.”

  “You’re killing Bridgette over and over again.”

  He shook his head. “I’m loving Bridgette the way she loved me. I just finish what she never could.”

  Durango’s eyes slid shut. He thought she loved him. He thought that her touch was affection. It wasn’t. But how could he have known that’s what he thought? How could he have shown him differently?

  “Did you ever talk to your therapist about these things?”

  Billy snorted. “That therapist was worthless. You know what we did during my sessions? I drew pictures, and she cooed over them, telling me what a good boy I was just so she could make Jackson think she was brilliant. She was a fucking hack!”

  Durango shook his head. They’d all failed him.

  A horn honked behind him. Durango pressed the accelerator, moving through the green light as it turned to yellow. The small SUV behind him just barely made the light, too, but the honker didn’t quite make it, so he laid on the horn again.

  “Fucking ass!” Billy twisted in his seat to aim the gun in the car’s direction, making little sound effects as he pretended to fire the weapon. “If I didn’t have more important things to do today . . .”

  “Why Sarah?”

  Billy sighed again as he twisted back toward the front. “Are you going to keep asking that until I give you the right answer?”

  “I loved her.”

  “I know you did. But you arrested Dirk, and I was so angry! You weren’t supposed to arrest him. You were supposed to see that it was me, and you were supposed to join us. You and Dirk were going to be my apprentices.”

  “I messed up. But you didn’t have to hurt Sarah over it.”

  “I had to keep you distracted. I knew you’d get out of it all okay.”

  “Distract me from what?”

  Billy stared out the window a moment, running his hands over the gun like it was a toy he thought fondly of. When he finally answered, his voice was filled with weariness.

  “You were clearly not ready. And Dirk, he wasn’t strong. He would have told you the truth, and you would have come after me. I had to distract you, show you that you didn’t need to be a cop anymore. I had to change things.”

  “Did you know they’d arrest me?”

  “I didn’t think it would happen as quickly as it did. And I really didn’t think it would go to trial.”

  “And then Kyle?”

  “I waited three years for you to put it all together. I knew you were still looking at the case files, knew that it was all there in front of you. I waited for you to come to me, to tell me you understood, and that you would join me. But you didn’t. So, I killed Kyle to push you over that edge, but then I realized you were depressed, and that you might need a bigger push. That’s why I killed that detective.” He laughed a little, a truly amused laugh. “I couldn’t believe how well you played into my hands, attacking her the way you did that night. And she liked it! It was quite an education for me, let me tell you.”

  “You were watching.”

  “Right outside in my car. Almost as erotic as a beautiful woman with my hand against her throat.”

  Durango felt sick. What kind of person would believe all this? Would find all this logical in any way, shape, or form? He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  He needed it to end.

  They were coming to the turn for Jackson’s house. Familiarity made it easy to drive these roads without paying all that much attention. But this turn was sharp, one that he’d taken too fast so many times as a teenager driving a brand-new car. He’d wrapped one around a tree when he was sixteen, a Corvette his father had just paid a little over $50,000 for. He was lucky he didn’t break his neck that night.

  Maybe he would this time.

  Chapter 21

  Los Angeles, California

  Gracie realized what Durango was going to do a split second before he did it. The car accelerated, the wheels spinning on the asphalt. They weren’t going to make it, and all she could do was watch. She slowed down and eased the SUV toward the side of the road, her hands tight as clamps on the wheel as she heard the squeal, the crunch of metal crumpling as they slammed into a massive tree that had been insulted this way before. There were scars on its trunks, multiple scars. And now there would be another.

  She threw the car into park and ran, not thinking about her already cut and sore feet, not thinking about the jacket that barely covered her bare ass. She ran, her only thought of Durango. They hit the tree head on. It was a new Mercedes with airbags everywhere, but there was no guarantee anyone had survived that crash.

  Twisted metal and glass was scattered all over the road. Voices from other motorists, people rushing out of their homes at the sound, were background noise she dismissed without concern. She just needed to get to Durango, to make sure he was okay.

  There was blood. That was the first thing that registered in her frightened mind.

  “Durango!”

  She pulled on the driver’s side door, but it wouldn’t budge. He was lying forward, his face buried in the tangle of the empty airbag. She pressed her fingers into his hair, checking for wounds as much as searching for a handhold to pull his head back. Was he breathing? Wasn’t that the first thing they teach you to assess in CPR classes? His head came back easily. He wasn’t conscious. Was that a bad sign or a good sign? His chest was moving. That was good.

  “Durango? Wake up, babe. Please, wake up!”

  She slapped the side of his face, worried that she might cause more damage if his jaw was broken or he had a skull fracture. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Was that the result of trauma or did he bite his tongue? She wished she knew more about first aid. All she could do was touch and try to assess what might be broken, what might not be, and hope for the best.

  Someone behind her screamed. Gracie ignored it for a moment, but the screams came again. She straightened, looked around. And then she realized why they were screaming. Billy was out of the car, his arm broken, swinging around the gun he’d had pressed to her own skull less than an hour ago.

  “Fucking bitch!” he cried when he saw her. “You did this!”

  He raised the gun and fired, but he was firing with his non-dominate hand. The bullet went wild.

  “Stop, Billy! You’re going to hurt someone!”

  “Sh
ut up!”

  He fired again, the bullet bouncing off the twisted frame of the car. Gracie ducked down, pain slicing through her as she hit her hip against a protruding piece of metal. People were screaming, running in all different directions. She thought she heard a siren, but couldn’t be sure. And Durango, still unconscious, was lying awkwardly behind the wheel of the car. Right in the path of the bullets.

  She stepped out, moving around the back of the car, glass crunching under her bare feet. “I’m here, Billy,” she said, calling to him. “Do what you will with me, but please don’t hurt anyone else.”

  “He did this because of you! You filled him with hope, you fucking bitch! You made him think he had a choice!”

  “He does.”

  Billy shook his head. “He’s supposed to come to me. He’s supposed to work with me, help me get rid of these bitches! He’s supposed to kill with me because I’m the only one who cares about him! I’m all he has left!”

  “He knows that.”

  “No! Now he thinks you love him! He’d rather die than join me.”

  “Billy, please! We can talk about this.”

  He shook his head, tears pouring down his face. The small bit of sanity he’d still held onto was quickly fraying. He was losing it, that gun flailing around in his hand. And then he aimed it again, taking the time to carefully point the muzzle in her direction.

  “Everyone loved him more than me. Jackson. Bridgette. Sarah. Even that lesbian loved him more than me! It was always all about Durango. I might as well have been a damn shadow on the wall for all they cared about me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Jackson, his voice deep and strong, walked up behind Billy, pain in his eyes when they briefly shifted toward Durango. But he kept his focus on Billy, moving around in front of him so that the younger man could see him.

  “I did everything I could for you, Billy. I kept you out of the foster care system, gave you an education and therapy. I tried so hard to do the right thing by you.”

  “You made my mother go away!”

  “She was hurting you! I couldn’t let that continue.”

  Billy shook his head, snot running from his nose as quickly as the tears from his eyes, smearing the blood that had dripped from a cut on his forehead.

  “You never loved me. You were just saddled with me.”

  “No, boy, that’s not true. I had a choice, and I chose you.”

  Billy shook his head so hard that the crud on his face shifted and flew, a chunk of bloody snot hitting the side of the demolished car. He didn’t say anything, but he continued to shake his head, denying everything Jackson said.

  “I love you, Billy. I’ve always loved you.” Jackson approached him, his arms outstretched. “You’re my boy.”

  Billy let Jackson envelop him in his arms. They stood that way for a long moment, Billy laying his head on Jackson’s shoulder. But then he lifted the gun.

  “No! No, Billy, please!”

  But Gracie’s cry came too late. Billy pressed the gun to Jackson’s side and fired, the older man standing still for a long moment before falling to his knees. He crumpled like a rag doll, falling onto his side as blood bloomed against the material of his shirt.

  Not even a full second later Billy’s chest ripped open with a half dozen bullet wounds. Two of the officers who’d been sitting outside Jackson’s house had come to see what the excitement was about. They fired on him as Billy raised his weapon again, aiming at the crowd that had mostly dispersed.

  And, just like that, it was over. The obsession Gracie had discovered at Quantico when she was called Mags, the case that took her all around the country from her computer at the Chicago field office, the obsession that developed around a man who loved another so deeply that he still grieved her passing five years later, the case that wasn’t a case, and then became the ultimate case. It was all over in a split second.

  Gracie dropped to her knees, not sure if it was Durango or Jackson she was trying harder to reach. All she knew was that she was covered with blood when they finally got to the hospital; so much blood that the doctors couldn’t tell what was hers and what wasn’t. She blacked out as they wiped the muck away. They called it shock, but she knew it was just the moment that the axis shifted on the world she thought she’d known and understood.

  Chapter 22

  Los Angeles, California

  UCLA Medical Center

  “Not the face I was hoping to see,” Durango croaked, his eyes barely opening a slit.

  “Glad to see you, too, boss.” Axel leaned forward and touched his arm. “You’ve been in and out for nearly a week.”

  Durango closed his eyes and grunted. “What happened?”

  “You were in an accident. Wrapped a Mercedes around a tree.”

  “I know,” he mumbled. “I meant after.”

  Axel was quiet for so long that Durango forced his eyes open again. “Gracie?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “She’s okay. She flew back to Chicago to face her bosses over this whole fiasco.” Axel shook his head. “FBI. Never would have imagined.”

  “It was a shock to me, too.”

  “She took the feds out here to Billy’s house, showed them the photo album of all his victims. There were women in there that even she hadn’t been able to attribute to him. Turns out he was one of the most prolific serial killers in history.”

  “Great.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “He’s in jail?”

  Axel shook his head, forcing Durango to turn his sore body slightly so that he could study him a little closer. He knew from the look on his face what the truth was, but he still needed to hear it.

  “The car?”

  “No. It would have killed him in a few hours. He had internal bleeding. But, no. He pulled a gun, and the cops had no choice but to take him out.”

  “Good.” Durango closed his eyes. “Go away now and let me rest in peace.”

  * * *

  When he woke again, he was alone. He hurt from the tips of his toes to the top of his scalp. He tried to look around, but moving his head was intensely painful. A nurse wandered in to check his vitals and smiled when she saw his eyes were open.

  “How are you, Mr. Masters?”

  “Never been better.”

  She smiled even wider. “That’s the spirit.” She moved to the side of the bed and adjusted the flow on his IV before resting a hand on his wrist, her fingertips searching for a pulse. “Your color is much better today. That’s a good sign.”

  “How bad is it?”

  She frowned slightly. “I should really let the doctor tell you.”

  “I won’t ruin the surprise.”

  Her smile came back. “Well, you fractured one leg and busted some ribs. They had to remove your spleen, and you had a nasty bump on your head. That concussion’s been a real bitch, but you’re coming out the other end now. You’re going to be just fine.”

  He sighed. “Thank you.”

  “That girl of yours, she was pretty worried the first couple of days when you wouldn’t open your eyes. Between you and that other fellow—”

  “Other fellow?”

  “Yeah. The one they’ve got down in the ICU. Thought she’d have a nervous breakdown, worrying over the two of you.”

  The nurse turned and headed toward the door.

  “What man in the ICU?”

  She just shook her head. “They don’t tell us nothing around here.”

  Durango didn’t understand. Had he hit someone before he slammed the car into that tree? Billy was the only other person in the car and Axel said he was shot. Who else could there be?

  Dread settled in his chest. He jabbed the button that would set the head of the bed up, looking for something, though not quite sure what it was he wanted. He finally located the corded phone that was attached to the bed and dialed Axel’s cell but got a recording instead. He stopped and read the little placard on the damn thing and dialed nine first,
finally barking his question at Axel without so much as a greeting.

  “Who else is here in the hospital? Who’s in the ICU?”

  That dread only grew colder when Axel gave him his answer.

  * * *

  Jackson had always been a young, handsome man to Durango. The ultimate playboy. He’d never thought of him as fragile before. But now . . . he looked damn fragile. And old as all hell.

  Axel wheeled Durango into the ICU and maneuvered him so that he was sitting at an angle, his broken leg pointed straight out in front of him. Then he left, giving Durango a moment alone with Jackson. Durango touched his hand, trying to imagine Jackson coming between a gun and Gracie. He couldn’t do it, but the proof was in the bloody tube that snaked out from under the bandages on his chest. Billy had shot Jackson point blank because Jackson had dared to stand between him and Gracie.

  He had to get all heroic now!

  “Stupid old man,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  Jackson didn’t respond, and he knew he wouldn’t. But he could hear him in his head, knew him well enough to know what his response would be.

  Don’t think about it, boy. There are enough should have, would have, could have’s in this damn world already.

  It was ironic, really. All his life, Durango had blamed Jackson for the murder of his mother. It motivated him to become a cop, gave him the passion he needed to follow his path in life. But it also created this monster where there shouldn’t have been one. He villainized his father out of his grief. Yet, the truth was, the true monster was the brother he’d welcomed with open arms, the brother he thought he could trust over everyone else. It was his brother who’d betrayed him, taken away everything that mattered to him, and destroyed his life. And it was his brother who might have just taken away his father before Durango could have a chance to see him through the eyes of a grown man.

  Jackson was never the monster. Billy was.

  Durango took his father’s hand and held it between both of his.

  “I’m sorry.”

  * * *

  Durango went to visit Jackson every day. Twice he crossed paths with a pretty blond woman, but he didn’t think twice about her until the third time.