Flash Point

by Brooke Blaine

  Her hand froze.

  And then she heard him.

  “There’s no need to do that,” a deep, familiar voice told her.

  Whipping her head around, she searched for him, but he remained hidden from view.

  “Stay back,” she said, unable to keep the shaking out of her voice as she raised the gun she still had a death grip on, and continued her search for him. “Don’t come any closer.”

  “I think we should talk.”

  “Talk? Is that what you killers call it now?

  “Katherine—”

  A floorboard squeaked under footsteps, and she pointed the gun in that direction. “I said stop.”

  “I heard you.”

  “I’ll shoot,” she warned. But would she really? Could she if she wanted to?

  “You know, it’s amazing what people will do for their family,” Jason said, stepping forward out of the shadows, his hands casually tucked in his pockets. “I guess you know by now about mine.”

  She pointed the gun at his chest as he stepped fully into the moonlight streaming in through the window. If he was surprised to see a weapon directed his way, he didn’t show it. Even as her heart sank at the confirmation that he really was standing right in front of her, him of all people, she couldn’t stop the familiar flutter in her stomach. Not only that, but she couldn’t help but notice that he’d changed somewhere along the way since she’d last seen him. The sleek black pants and matching button-down he wore wasn’t what he’d been wearing when he left her room. When he’d left her bed.

  Fuck. She bit the inside of her cheek, cursing herself over what a fool she was.

  He stopped a few feet away from her, hands still in his pockets. She wasn’t fooled by his casual stance, though, and kept the gun trained over his heart.

  “I’m sorry—” he began.

  “No,” she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls, and his mouth snapped shut. She studied him, her hands gripping the gun tight to keep it from shaking. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” Swallowing hard, she asked, “Why?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “You’re smart. You don’t need me to fill in the blanks for you.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Who am I?” he asked.

  Her eyes were hard on his. “A member of the Graham family.”

  “His son.”

  “His son,” she repeated. “You’re Warren Graham’s son?”

  “Which means—”

  “Oliver is your brother. The same guy my father and the jury sentenced to death row for killing a bunch of innocent people.”

  He nodded. “So you see.”

  “No,” she spat. “No, I don’t see. This isn’t some eye for an eye shit. Your brother murdered people. Your entire family apparently murders people. What, for drugs? For power? For kicks?”

  When he stepped forward, she yelled, “Stop.” He didn’t move, and she continued. “You want to justify you and your family’s actions? My father sentences your brother to death, so you thought you’d get revenge on him by killing my mom? By trying to kill me?” Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked rapidly to clear them so she could keep a good view on the man in front of her. The stranger in front of her.

  “You would’ve killed me,” she told him, her voice barely a whisper. Then it turned into a question of disbelief. “You would’ve killed me?”

  “No,” he said, his gaze steady on hers. “No, I couldn’t do that. Not now.”

  “Now now?” she cried. “But you could’ve before. What, before you slept with me? Was that some sort of conscience-clearing turning point for you, you sick fuck?” He tried to move forward again. “I said don’t fucking move. Don’t. Move.”

  He raised his hands from his pockets. “I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

  “Good, because that option was not on the fucking table.”

  Jason watched her silently as she said, “I want answers before I shoot you.”

  He didn’t flinch, but responded, “Ask me anything. I’ll tell you.”

  “Where’s my father? Where’s Steven?”

  “Safe,” he said without hesitation. “They’re safe. I promise you. They’re with police now.”

  “And why should I believe that?”

  “Because it’s the truth.”

  She prayed to God he wasn’t lying, but she’d find out soon enough.

  “Was it you the whole time?” she asked. “Were you the one that set up the scene in my room? Did you ransack my father’s home office too?”

  “Not quite. Yes. And yes.”

  “What does ‘not quite’ mean? Who else?”

  “My father was getting impatient, not wanting to stick to the plan. The car trying to run us over was a warning to me, not you.”

  “Warning?”

  “Just as I have eyes on everything you do, so does he. We haven’t exactly been hiding what’s been going on between us when we think we’re alone.”

  Her blood ran cold. “Tell me the plan.”

  His eyes left her, as he stared down at the ground and took a deep breath, before they rose again. “Oliver’s execution was set at the end of January. No one seemed to put the timing of that announcement together with when the threats started.” Before she could ask the question on the tip of her tongue, he said, “You want to know why they started in the first place?”

  She shut her mouth and inclined her head for him to continue.

  “My father never thought Oliver wouldn’t get an appeal. That should tell you how arrogant the man is. The thought that he’d lose at something never even occurred to him. The death sentence was only handed down five years ago, so even though the first appeals weren’t successful, he thought they had time. Imagine his surprise when the date was set. His plan was set to coincide with Oliver’s. If, somehow, he got off, you two would’ve been let off the hook as well.”

  “You believe that?”

  “He wouldn’t have gotten as far as he has in life if he wasn’t a man of his word. That’s true in all things he does, good and bad. If he promised you the heart of your enemy, he’d deliver to the exact detail. So yes, I believe that.”

  He took a step toward her, and she straightened, her hands tight on the damp handle.

  “But he was impatient to get things started, is that right?”

  “It is.”

  “So you were lying when you told me you’d been a SEAL and now a bodyguard to get out of the family business. You never even left.”

  “That’s not true. I did leave. My father…” He stopped and shook his head. “To say he’s not a good man would be a fucking understatement. I didn’t want to follow down that path. But my leaving caused Oliver to sink into a downward spiral, one that ends in a grave. I’m to blame for that. He was never strong enough to handle the position my father put him in, and when I’d had enough, I didn’t take him with me. I didn’t save him. I feel that guilt. My brother will die in days, and there’s not one thing I can do to stop it. So, no, I wasn’t lying to you. I haven’t ever lied to you. My father asked me to do one last thing for him, to avenge my brother, and then I’d never have to deal with him again. That was the deal.”

  “And by doing that, you’ve turned out just like him.”

  A pained expression crossed his face through his defenses. “And I hate myself for it.”

  “That’s not enough,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s not enough for me.”

  “I know.” His hand moved to his pocket, and then he paused. “I’m going to give you something now, and I promise it won’t hurt you. It’s in my pocket.”

  “How do I know it’s not a gun?”

  “You don’t.”

  With her lips set into a grim line, she told him, “Do it slowly so I can see.”

  With deliberate slowness, his fingers dipped inside his jeans pocket and removed a red pouch. He held it up for her to see. “The ring is still in it. I never touched it, so the DNA is there. This would crush my father and
his organization. Use it. Please.” He knelt down and slid the tied pouch across the floor, and it stopped by her feet. She didn’t dare move, letting it stay there.

  “And now your fingerprints are all over the outside. What about that.”

  “I don’t expect to be alive when you hand it over.”

  Fear shot through her heart, a warring storm of emotions raging inside. Anger and compassion, hate and love, fear and confidence. They all climbed on top of each other, wanting to be the first to reach the surface.

  He said he’d never lied to her, but of course he had. Conversations they’d had and responses he’d given ran through her mind, and doubt began to settle in. She thought about the ring sketch she’d shown, and all she could remember were questions he asked her. Same with the mustache man. Same with the false arrest and then the picture sent to Steven.

  Wait.

  “Did you send that picture to Steven?” she asked.

  “I was given that photo to make sure it got into his hands, yes.”

  “And what was the point of that?”

  He gave her a humorless smile. “To push him away. To make you trust and confide in me.”

  Reeling at his admission, she sucked in a breath. The gun shook in her hand, and she wrapped her other hand around it to keep it steady.

  “Oh God,” she whimpered. “It worked. I almost lost my best friend, my confidant, and you made me feel so safe. So protected. I thought I could tell you anything, and you had that planned?” Her head was spinning, and she wished she could just sit down for a moment to make it stop and gather her bearings. Her breaths were shallow and fast, and the room began to spin. Reaching out beside her, she moved a few steps until she could feel the wall and stood there for a moment, letting it hold her up. Jason didn’t move from his position, though he watched her with eyes full of concern.

  She shook that thought out of her head. Concern. What a crock of shit.

  Pushing off the wall, she gave a slow clap on her forearm. “Congratulations. You succeeded in making me believe you. Well done.”

  “Katherine—”

  “Why the game, huh? Why get me to trust you at all? Why not just off us in one fell swoop? Seems like a waste of time.”

  “Do you remember what I said about psychotics? They never make any sense. And he was playing with you.”

  “Stop trying to put this off solely on him,” she said, anger bursting through. “You’re the one who followed through on it. You’re just as bad as he is. No, I take that back. You’re worse. So much worse.”

  “I won’t deny that.”

  Her jaw clenched as her hands shook with the need to hit him, hit something, anything physical to get out the frustration and rage boiling inside.

  “So what’s your plan now?” she asked.

  He regarded the gun in her hand. “That part is entirely up to you.”

  “And if I wasn’t pointing this at you, ready to blow your head off at any second…what then?”

  “I’d be doing this very thing. Giving you evidence. Telling you the truth. And then facing the consequences, wherever they fall.”

  “You’re not scared to die,” she said.

  “A man like me doesn’t have much of a life. I thought if I ran far enough away, I’d be able to feel free. To live life on my terms. But I was never truly free. And it’s a lonely existence; you were right about that. It doesn’t matter if I die or not.”

  Clenching her teeth together so her trembling chin didn’t give her away, she said, “Stop trying to make me feel sorry for you. I hate you. I don’t give a fuck how lonely you feel.”

  “I don’t want you to feel anything for me.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  “Katherine…” He closed his eyes and swallowed, and when he opened them again, he pinned her with a stare so intense, she felt it as though he were touching every inch of her. “When I told you you were unexpected…that was true. I expected to take care of an incompetent Justice and his pesky kid. I never thought I’d fall in love with his daughter. You weren’t part of the plan. That doesn’t excuse what I’ve done. Not at all. Fuck, not even close.”

  She was biting the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood, but she refused to speak. Refused to open her mouth and give him any satisfaction for getting to her.

  “You told me about your hopes and dreams, and I want those things for you. I want the nightmares to end. You’re the most deserving, honest, beautiful, infuriating person I’ve ever met, and you should be happy and surrounded by people who love you. I wish I could’ve been more for you. I used to be that man…” His voice cracked.

  “But you didn’t believe enough in yourself,” she said. “You’re not the strong man I thought you were. You’re not the person I thought I knew at all.”

  The deep remorse in his eyes wasn’t begging for compassion and mercy. It was begging for forgiveness. But that wasn’t something she had in her to give.

  Not right now.

  Maybe not ever.

  “What happens now?” she asked.

  “The police will be here soon. You’ll give them the ring and tell them everything. Draw the man you saw, the one who threatened you. His name is Henley, and he’s my father’s right-hand man.”

  “What happens to you?” she asked, her voice wavering now.

  He stood directly in front of the barrel of the gun a few feet away. “You know what. Do it. Pull the trigger.”

  The handle was sliding in her grip, thick with sweat. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  He took a step toward her. “What did I tell you about hesitating?”

  “You’re asking me to kill you,” she cried.

  “I’m telling you to.”

  With a shaky hand, she lowered the gun.

  “No.”

  He took another step, and this time, he reached out for her hand and put the muzzle of the gun over his heart, clicking off the safety.

  “Pull the trigger, Katherine.”

  She couldn’t stop the violent tremble of her hands as she struggled to hold onto the gun.

  “Pull the trigger…and you’ll be free.”

  His eyes bored into hers and she was lost there, unable to look away, and his voice was calm as he asked, “Don’t you want vengeance? To get revenge on the ones who took someone you loved?”

  She took a shuddering breath, the tension between them rising. Her heart was beating so fast that the blood rushing was a loud roar in her ears.

  Pulling the gun out of his grasp, she turned it so the muzzle was now facing her.

  “Don’t you?”

  “Katherine,” he said, the panic in his voice evident. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”

  From the back of the house a crash followed by footsteps were audible, and Jason spun around to face whoever was coming.

  “If it’s not the cops, be ready to shoot them,” he told her.

  “Jason…” she whispered, dropping the gun to her side.

  He backed her quietly into the shadows as two figures entered the back hall, both dressed entirely in black.

  Oh God… The scene was so eerily reminiscent of the night with her mother, in the same hallway, with men dressed in the same gear as those before, that her heart stopped. Too scared to make a move and risk getting their attention, she grabbed the back of Jason’s shirt, trembling and unable to keep looking.

  When she shook her head against his back, he didn’t hesitate to take over. He reached for her hand that was by her side still holding on to the gun and lifted both their arms, as he had once before, and aimed it in the direction of the first figure in black. He shot with deadly precision, aiming for the man’s heart, before turning the gun on the second figure, catching him in the same spot as the first. Both collapsed onto the floor, their bodies landing in heavy thuds that had Katherine shivering in terror and relief. It was over in less than ten seconds—the two bodies lying motionless on the hardwood, the dark wetness beneath their bodies beginning to pool arou
nd them.

  Jason listened for anyone to follow and kept the gun raised, her arm still intertwined with his. When several minutes passed, he lowered her arm and stepped away, turning to face her.

  “Y-you knew them,” she said, gasping as she looked down at the two men on the floor that he hadn’t even hesitated to shoot.

  The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, and she raised her head and stood there staring at him in stunned silence. The moonlight streaming through the window cast a light over him like a halo, her very own avenging angel bodyguard.

  He was so unbelievably gorgeous that it almost hurt to look at him. And he’d protected her, yet again. How could this man, who’d set out to fulfill his father’s deadly wishes, keep defending her at every turn? It didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t do those things, unless—

  Unless he loved her.

  Though he’d said those words to her tonight, they didn’t register until that moment. The revelation came crashing through her, filling her completely. Her heart swelled with love and pain and sadness, so heavy she could barely breathe.

  “Katherine…” he said, his eyes sad as he looked at her, the sirens growing louder as they came closer. “Do it now.”

  She looked at him one last time, taking in every piece of him, every feature, every scar, down to the way he was looking at her as though he’d never see her again and was grateful he’d had a chance at all.

  Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she blinked away tears as she told him the last four words she’d ever say to him.

  “I love you too.”

  And then she shot him.

  7 months later

  HE WATCHED HER as she strolled along the grass littered with the fall of autumn leaves, the air crisp with the flavor of spiced apples and smoky bonfires, and the promise of new beginnings.

  At least, it felt that way to him. This time of year had always represented a time of change and second chances.

  He’d been given one the night Katherine shot him. With his fate in her hands, she’d not only chosen to let him live—a leniency he’d spend the rest of his life trying to be worthy of—but she’d never revealed his true identity to anyone.