Blake shot to his feet, spun around, and threw his best right hook at Greg. He didn’t think it would connect, but it did with more force than he could’ve imagined. Greg stumbled back, holding his cheek. The expression of shock in his eyes was exquisite, but Blake wanted to hurt him more. He wanted to grab this man by the throat and squeeze his neck until his face turned purple and his heart stopped. Dismissing his own fear, he threw another punch. A clumsy one.
Greg caught the fist in his hand and took the knuckles straight into his palm. With his free hand, he contorted Blake’s arm, driving his face into the table, where he kept him with his arm at snapping point.
“Cut it out!” Charlie commanded. “Stop, stop it now!”
Blake could see nothing, save for the spilled salt on the table in front of him, the half-empty shaker rolling around and then onto the floor.
Greg’s restrain didn’t loosen.
“I said let him go!” Charlie screamed at Greg.
Reluctant, Greg let go, his face cherry red with fury, breathing in short bursts through his nose and shaking like a raving lunatic as he took a seat.
Blake stood up straight, rubbing his shoulder and staring at Greg. He knew on some level there was no way he could fight this guy and emerge the victor. But to not try would be an insult to Rachel’s memory. Besides that, there was an anger that Blake had never known, and now it was consuming him. Life seemed unimportant now. Going on without her would be like trying to drive a car without its engine.
“So, this is awkward.” Charlie laughed, looking at the pair of them side by side. “Blake, my boy. I want to offer you something. A certain safety.”
Why do I find that so hard to believe? “And for my father? And Jackie Lang?”
Charlie sighed. “I can maybe do something for Lang, but I can’t help your dad, I’m afraid. He’s a loose end, and he has to die: it’s as simple as that.”
“You offer me freedom, but my dad is the price? I won’t do that.”
“I didn’t offer you freedom.” Charlie drew a revolver from his lap, the metal glistening under the single light bulb above them. “I’m offering you your life. But if you have no interest in saving yourself, you can die right now.”
“Oh boy.” Greg rubbed his hands together, sitting forward.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Blake waved his hands, desperate not to be murdered here and now.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Charlie put the gun on the table in front of him, still within arm’s reach. His hand rested on it.
Blake had to be careful with what he said.
“Let me get this straight,” Charlie said. “Val—your father—lies to you your entire life. What did he say he was? An accountant? Something like that? Ha. So, then he gets you into the state you’re in now, which, let’s face it, isn’t good. Then he allows your girlfriend to get killed, and then he lets us get a hold of you. Blake, he’s the reason you’re in this room right now. How can you not resent that?”
Blake hated to admit it, but the man had a point. Maybe Val had not been entirely straight with him. But he couldn’t let him die… could he?
Charlie went on. “And didn’t you ever wonder how your mother really died?”
“What?” His heart was racing again. He thought he was likely to have an attack. The way he’d known it, his mother had fallen victim to cancer when he was just a boy.
“I’ll give you the files, Mr. Salinger. It’s all in our database. All you need to do is accept the role. We’ll provide you with arms training, hand-to-hand combat. Even evasive driving training. And the wage is difficult to rival.”
“You’re offering me a job?”
“I am.”
It was hard to say no. What else did he have to live for? Even if he got out of here alive, he would be on the run again, all because of the man who’d lied to him his entire life. But then again… “I won’t kill my dad.”
“And I won’t ask you to.”
Greg sniffed, just loud enough to say I’m still here, you know.
“But understand this.” Charlie leaned forward, his eyes squinting under the light. He put a hand over his eyebrows as if he had a headache. “We may not ask you to pull the trigger, but we will still need you. All we ask is loyalty. Do you think you can handle that?”
It was probably the biggest decision he would ever have to make, and he didn’t think he could do it. He couldn’t murder his father or have any part in it. On the other hand, he’d recklessly ruined his life, and Blake was eager to learn the truth about his mother. “Can I have a trial run? I know nothing about this company other than what I see.”
“No. Unless…” Charlie put his hand on the revolver.
For a moment, Blake thought he was going to use it, but he simply slid it across the table toward him.
“There are two options. Kill this man and become one of us.” He pointed at Greg, who sat stunned at the suggestion.
Blake turned to face him.
“Or die right now.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jackie hadn’t seen it, but she knew. The same way you just know when a package arrives for you at home and you’re not there to take it. The way you just knew, as a kid, that the single shiny present in front of you isn’t the final gift for that Christmas.
Jackie knew that Blake was with an agent.
She just knew.
When Blake had passed her, she’d disconnected the earpiece, fussing over the tangled web of wires that covered her lap, and then leapt from the van and taken after him. She’d spotted him at the mouth of the alley where it led onto the street. She’d just taken a step to catch up to him, to see what exactly was going on, when she’d taken a single sudden blow to the back of her head. Something solid. Something metallic.
She’d hit the floor immediately, barely able to reach her arms up to nurse the pain. From the ground, she’d craned her neck and looked up at Blake, only to see a figure closing in quietly behind him.
Wincing at the pain, Jackie climbed to her feet and stumbled toward him, staying in a low hunch and reaching around the back of her head for any sign of bleeding. There was a hint of moisture, and a bump was already forming, but she was otherwise okay.
“Blake?” she called as she reached the road. She glanced up and down the street, but there was no sign of him. Jackie knew Blake wouldn’t run off and leave her without good reason, and that could only mean trouble.
Returning to the van with that feeling of emptiness inside, a black cloud lingered over her and kept taunting her. You let him down. You let him down. You fucked everything up, and now you’re all alone.
Jackie fell back onto the van’s side step. She’d known it was there and desperately needed to sit. Sitting inside the van, in the driver or passenger seat, would have left her feeling claustrophobic. She needed to be out in the open air, away from the walls that were closing in on her. The cold didn’t bother her either. Never had. If anything, it was refreshing for her, like a cold cloth dabbing on her sweaty forehead.
“Jackie.”
A voice. A real one, a familiar one.
“Jackie?”
Again, closer this time.
She spun around, half-alert and half-comforted by the voice she knew deep within her mind.
“Val,” she said as soon as she saw him. Ignoring the pain, she shot to her feet and stormed toward him. The man who stood beside him wasn’t important to her now, while she threw her arms around Val. She’d missed him so much. Worried more than she had in a long time. Normally, she would have sought comfort from her dog, and her thoughts drifted toward that for a moment before returning to the guilt. “I’m so sorry, Val. I tried, but he’s gone.”
Val closed his arms around her, too, held her steady and hushed into her ear. “It’s okay. It’s all right.” He stroked her hair, brushing it with his fingers. “We’ll be okay. He’ll be fine.”
Jackie hadn’t told him exactly what had happened, but he seemed to have put two and two together
. Pulling away, Jackie glanced at the character to his left. She had to do a double take to make sure she was seeing exactly what she thought she was. “Detective Parker?”
“Lang.” His teeth ground as he scowled.
“You two know each other?” Val stepped back, shifting to look at them both together.
Jackie fell from his arms. She was unsure of whether she should hug this man. It felt fitting. She stepped forward, hesitating, deliberating, and then decided not to.
“Yes, I know her,” Robbie snapped. “You know how much trouble you’ve caused, abandoning your duty like that? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“I—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Robbie said, holding out a hand to shut her up. No room for negotiation here. “My entire department have been working overtime for nearly two months thanks to your little adventure on that yacht. Now you think you can just stumble around in front of me like nothing happened? It’s not like that. You’re a fugitive now.”
“Now hold on a minute,” Val intruded, leaping to Jackie’s rescue. “You’re a fugitive, too.”
“Yeah, no thanks to you, Salinger.”
“That’s not fair. You knew what you were doing.”
“Do you think we could maybe talk about this somewhere else?” Jackie snapped. She hated bickering at the best of times. Standing in a cold alley that stank of rotting fruit wasn’t quite the place for petty squabbles. And with the damning music of police sirens wailing through the streets, getting closer to them with each passing second, she knew they had to get the hell out of there.
“And where do you suppose we go?” Robbie said, a hand on each hip.
“Just get in the van, Detective.” Val urged them both in, all three of them cramming into the front seat. It wasn’t the best idea; all three of them were wanted by the police, and the front of the van was now lined with all three of their faces. But they were desperate to get a front-row seat. For all they knew, they could spot Blake any second, strolling along the street as if he’d just needed to stretch his legs.
“Agency?” Val asked Jackie, crooking his neck.
Jackie knew exactly what he meant. A quick nod of the head was all she needed to give as she maneuvered the traffic from behind the steering wheel. Her seat was pulled right up to it, as usual. Another side effect of her height.
“Detective,” Val said, “I still want to get my son.”
Robbie was chewing on his knuckles, trying to hide his face from the speeding police cars they passed. “Uh-huh. And then what?”
Val sighed. Jackie caught sight of him looking down at his lap before he spoke again.
“We’re going for the Agency, Detective. We’re going to take them down, get my son back, and then get you back to your family. If you’ll help us.” There was a pause before he added, “Please.”
They sat in silence, driving in no particular direction. The sirens and honking car horns passed them as the night drew to a close. Soft rain pattered against the windshield. Jackie put on the wipers.
“All right. I’ll help,” Robbie Parker said, and Jackie realized how much she’d missed working with this man. “But how exactly do we do that?”
Val went quiet.
Jackie wasn’t used to seeing him like that. He was usually the man with the plan. The guy who had all the answers and tried to father the whole group. Subtly, of course. There had been nothing bossy in his tone, calm yet assertive. Commanding. A voice you could trust. But where was that voice now?
Val Salinger finally spoke. “I have no idea.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Blake took the gun from the table, felt the weight in his hands. It was heavier than other guns, weighted with choice. He realized that what he was holding could solve a lot of problems; he could shoot Greg and see his brains splash across the room like jam in a food fight.
What was stopping him from turning the gun on Charlie? Greg would lunge for him, no doubt about it, but then what? He wondered how many bullets were in this thing, but had no idea how to find out. But if there was at least one… maybe he could take the bullet himself, wave goodbye to all the trouble that had been caused. Val and Jackie would be on the run forever, but to hell with them.
He raised the gun.
“Whoa.” Greg raised his hands in surrender, a sudden look of seriousness furrowing his brow. “Don’t be stupid now, kid. I was only messing with you. Your girlfriend is alive and kicking. I swear.”
“Liar,” Blake said and took aim between his eyes, willing himself to squeeze the trigger. But could he? Would he?
“It’s true!”
“Prove it.”
Charlie sat chuckling to himself, amused by the drama he’d caused.
“I… I can’t,” Greg told him. “Just give me the gun. We’ll figure this out.” His face was becoming bright red, sweat dripping from his temple the way ice-cold drops roll down the neck of a beer bottle.
“Hmm. That’s convenient.” Blake wondered if he had what it took to kill a man. He’d shot at Greg before, back on the yacht. But the gun had been empty. Perhaps Blake had known that on some level, which was what had gifted him the courage to point and shoot. But now, with the man in front of him, begging desperately for his life… Was he lying? If Rachel was alive, he didn’t want to lose his only connection to her. But why would she be? He’d seemed so sure and confident when he said he’d killed her.
“It’s not convenient when I have a gun in my face.” Greg turned to his employer, Charlie. “You’re not really going to allow this, are you? We had a deal!”
Blake glanced at Charlie, too, who met his eyes and shrugged, grimacing.
“Fucker,” Greg added, spitting. “Listen to me, kid. I’m not lying. She’s in a safe place.”
“Tell me where.” Blake could feel the power of the weapon in his hand. He understood it now—why people became so motivated to use these things. It could bring the most dangerous of men down to their knees.
“I can’t tell you where exactly… I mean—”
“Tell me where!” Blake screamed, his patience draining fast.
“Oh-ho-ho, yes!” Charlie was still laughing. It was infuriating. “Whether to believe him or not, Mr. Salinger. Decisions, decisions. You know, if you don’t kill him, he’s going to turn that thing on you and finish the job he started.”
“Shut up!” Greg snarled at his boss.
“I think,” Charlie continued, ignoring him, “he’s killed that girl of yours. He will kill you just as easily. And then that’s fifty percent of his job done.”
“You’re paying me!” Greg turned back to Blake, looking small and weasel-like in his chair. His hair matted to his forehead with sweat. “Kid, please. He’s the one who’s paying me to kill you all. He’s paying me!”
“Oh, give it up.” Charlie rolled his eyes. “If I wanted to kill you, Salinger, I could do it right now. That goes for both of you, I might add.”
That’s true, Blake thought. The gun in his outstretched hand became heavy. He had to fight to keep it up. Unsure of how much longer he could hold it, he would have to make a decision soon. As soon as he put the gun down, if Greg wasn’t a dead man, that would be the end of Blake. “One last chance,” he threatened. “Where is Rachel?”
Greg licked his lips, shaking his head with dreaded anticipation. “I can’t tell y—”
What happened then was a reaction, something inside of Blake that made him squeeze the trigger. The blast was deafening as it roared throughout the room, the light chasing it and disappearing as fast as it’d come. Greg shot backward, his chair toppling under his weight as he collapsed to the floor in a bloody heap.
Blake dropped the gun, the metal smashing the floor tile as it landed. His hands came to his head. He’d done it. Finally. He’d taken a human life. His eyes played against him as he went dizzy, trying not to look at the body of the man he’d just murdered. The life he’d taken.
“Excellent,” Charlie said, chuckling and cl
apping. He rose, came to Blake’s side, and put an arm over his shoulder. “Great job, man! You’ve done the right thing.”
Had he, though? Blake couldn’t help but think about all the times the Agency had chased them down, threatened the lives of his family and friends. But then there was this man; the one on the floor, who’d taken Blake under his wing and tried to show him the ropes.
Before he had turned on Blake and his father.
But no more.
There was silence in the room, save for Blake’s pitiful sobbing. It was a silence that demanded a response. Encouraged words from his lips. “I… he’s dead. I killed him.” And then he fell back into his chair, still looking away from the body and feeling Charlie’s hand caress the back of his neck.
“You did, and I’m proud of you. You had to do it eventually, didn’t you?” Charlie knelt, right where the blood was pooling, reaching across the room like a desperate cloud crossing a small town. “That’s the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do for us, and it gets easier every time. I promise.”
“Every time?” Blake glanced up, squinting to see through the flood of tears.
Charlie only smiled, held out his hand. “Welcome to the Agency, Blake Salinger.”
Blake didn’t know why, but he reached out and took it.
They shook hands, sealing the deal, and Blake’s life changed forever.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Her face felt like fire, spreading across her forehead, lingering on her lips like a poison.
How long ago had he left her? It felt like at least a day, judging by the cotton taste in her mouth, the ache of her muscles. Where was she? Somewhere dark, for sure. There wasn’t a blindfold covering her eyes; if there was, she’d been beaten badly enough to not feel it. She tried to feel the space around her, but her arms were too weak, restricting, every movement of every muscle seared through her as she worked them.
It was agony.
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