by J. D. Sloane
Ronan stood up as the crewman next to Jaxson yelled to someone behind him and stalked back to the monitors, his pale face losing all traces of bored half-interest as he leaned over the monitors.
“What is it?” He asked, his voice smooth and clipped.
Jaxson tapped at one of the screens and shook his head, the worry in his face filling Ronan with a sudden rush of violent annoyance as he brushed Jaxson out of the way.
“Move.”
Jaxson got up quickly as Ronan took his seat, his eyes lighting up like electric pinwheels and mumbled under his breath as he switched the monitors with a flick of his hand, pausing as he came to a corner shot of the outer hall, the unmoving bodies on the floor filing him with a grim thrill of surprise.
“Okay,” Ronan said dragging out the word until it was almost a hiss. He switched three of the screens to all the images he had of the hallway and gestured to Jaxson without looking up, shaking his head as he raised his brows. “Our local social crusader is playing fast but not very smart. You three. Do me a favor and go and escort our honored guest back to the party. He’s somewhere in that hallway, gentleman. Go, go, go.”
“You heard him,” Jaxson said, tipping his chin at the two crewmen closest to the door as Ronan waved him away from the desk. “Rooms and the stairwells. And stick together. He can’t hide out forever.”
“Oh, Archie,” Ronan said, his low voice almost friendly as he spoke into the intercom mic. “The clock doesn’t stop ticking just because you decided to play mystery date. Sooner or later one my men is going to open the right door.”
He rubbed his thumb across his lips as his eyes darted across the screens, shaking his head as he saw three crewmen enter the hall.
“Tell you what. You join the party now and good old Byron might not even need that wheelchair when you collect him. Think it over, Archie. Be the man this town of dogs thinks you are.”
Ronan’s eyes narrowed as they darted from screen to screen and then blinked as one of them became a sudden flash of light, a loud boom echoing throughout the hall as the entire corridor filled with smoke. Ronan stood up as the sudden hammer of gunfire seemed to surround them on all sides and stepped away from the desk as Jaxson gestured silently to the two other crewmen in the room, watching the door from his vantage point as one of them kicked the doors open.
He cocked his head as Jaxson snapped his gun up to shoulder height and stepped closer as both crewmen mirrored him on either side, a soft swirl of smoke obscuring the face of the man outside the door as Jaxson shook his head.
“You’re fast but not that fast,” Jaxson said calmly, snapping his gun into the tall man’s face as he tipped his chin at him. “And I said to drop it. Every weapon. Jacket too.”
Ronan stepped around the pool as the man in the doorway glanced in his direction, holding his gun on Jaxson steadily as he approached. He felt a jolt of fury run through him as the man’s face barely flinched and blinked at him slowly as he stood his ground, surprised that he was so young.
Thirty at most, Ronan thought as he walked towards the fray with the expression of a polite host, something about his sharp aristocratic face annoying him on some deep, rarely visited level. And probably younger. Which means he’s not local or affiliated. If he was, I would’ve heard his name by now.
“I am not going to ask you again,” Jaxson said, his low baritone voice flat and clipped. “You are going to drop your weapon right now or I’m going to have my friend there put a bullet in your kneecap. Your choice.”
The younger man shifted his body slightly as the second crewman tried to step around him and Ronan felt all the hollow places inside him load like an electric charge as the man turned his pale eyes towards him, ignoring the collection of guns pointed at him as his tanned face filled up with a calm, quiet defiance.
“I know what you want,” he said, his low voice flat and confident in the cavern of the pool room.
He tipped the nose of his handgun down slightly, sliding it from Jaxson’s head to his chest and Ronan raised his brows, a sudden brilliant image of ramming his knife down the front of his throat flashing through his mind in bright red marquis lights, pulsing briefly before it went dark.
“Or should I say who you want. I know everything, Mr. White. Where she went, who she’s with, what she’s calling herself. And I’ll tell you all of it. Every detail. All you have to do is let Byron walk out of here right now. Alone.”
Ronan raised his hands as he paced around him and gestured to the cameras with a slow shrug.
“Now how would that be fair to our longtime fans and followers, hmm?” He asked, his low voice clipped and amused. “Doesn’t viewer loyalty mean anything to anyone these days?”
“I said to fucking drop it,” Jaxson said through clenched teeth, his voice beginning to rise. Ronan rolled his jaw with annoyance, his face twitching across the surface of his scar and then leaned towards him slightly as he made a careless gesture with one hand.
“And assuming of course he can still walk,” Ronan said raising his voice, his voice beginning to pulse with violence as he saw the man glance in Byron’s direction, his eyes shifting so quickly it was barely perceptible. “I’ll be honest, your loyal compatriot may be feeling a little peaked after the day he’s had, Archie. Still- the man knows how to keep a secret. Would you believe I still don’t know your actual name?”
“You don’t need to know it,” The man said, and Ronan made a face and gave a quick brush-off movement to Jaxson, watching his men fall back as he turned on his heel. “And it doesn’t matter what you say. I know you can’t kill me. At least not yet.”
“You bring up a good point,” Ronan said pacing around the pool as he whistled under his breath. He stepped up to the edge of the deep end and met the man’s gaze as Byron closed his eyes, his chin barely an inch above the water.
“It’s difficult to reason with a man with nothing to lose. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Ronan brought his foot down hard on Byron’s shoulder, his face curling with a restless kind of brutality as his gray head bobbed below the surface. He dug his heel in harder as he saw Michael take a quick step forward, his tan face paling as he held him below the water.
“Stop!” Michael said as Ronan felt Byron struggle harder and made a face of casual annoyance as he held his hand up to his ear, Brooke’s pale too perfect face suddenly filling up every spare corner of his mind.
“Your name,” Ronan said slowly, his face so vicious and rage-laced it had almost rounded the corner back to compassion. “He’s still got some fight in him, Archie, he really does. But I’m not sure how long he’ll last with a few more holes in his skull.”
Michael looked at him quickly, his jaw clenched so tight every vein danced beneath his skin as he spoke.
“It’s Michael,” he said. “My name is Michael.”
“Hmm,” Ronan said. “Michael. And now. Your. Gun.”
He watched him with quick, focused patience as Michael set his gun down on the floor and kicked it away from him as Ronan made a quick gesture with his hand, raising his foot off of Byron’s neck slowly before stepping back from the edge of the pool. He walked over to the Michael’s gun as Byron came up hacking wildly and scooped it up as he whistled under his breath, breaking it apart with both hands before tossing it into the pool.
“And the other,” he said, grinning slightly as paused in front of him. Ronan felt his temper climb higher as Michael threw him a quick sneer, holding out his hand as the crewman he couldn’t remember yanked his second gun out of his jacket pocket. He watched Michael turn his eyes in the crewman’s direction his face so calm and arrogant he felt his fingers twitch on his knife and felt the desire to gut him like an animal move through him in a calm red wave as he shrugged off his jacket, dropping it to the floor.
“I prefer Archie actually,” Ronan said, his voice low and casual again as he walked towards him, pulling his knife out with a casual snap as he glanced in Jaxson’s d
irection. “But I’m glad we finally understand each other. I was beginning wonder, you know, after the incident the other night. She is a good-looking girl, isn’t she? Very- blond. You know, as long as you aren’t a man who minds a little hard mileage before you purchase.”
Ronan rolled his knife around in his palm like a pool cue as Jaxson stepped behind Michael and shoved him forward with the butt of his gun, pausing when they were barely more than four feet away from one another.
“I’ve heard that about you,” Michael said, following him carefully as Ronan paced in front of him, his wide dark eyes bright and savage.
“Oh? What is that?”
“You like to hurt women.”
“Now that’s kind of the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you say?” Ronan said, his voice crisp and amused as he pointed at him lightly. “You’re a little young so you probably don’t know this yet but trust me, some women need a very firm hand. Otherwise they just run wild on you.”
“So it isn’t that you’re a sadist.”
“No,” Ronan said turning towards him. “Just a realist. Something tells me you have a thing for pretty little victims too. You just exploit them in a less interesting direction.”
Ronan walked forward, meeting Michael’s eyes as he considered him casually for a moment.
“And if it really is Nolan your sights are set on then that advice goes double for her. You should’ve seen the fight she put up the other night. Any man who takes that girl on will have his work cut out for him.”
“Is that how it worked with Brooke? Because I’ve seen how she’s living now, Ronan. And she’s happy. Was she ever happy with you? Even once?”
Ronan felt his brow furrow as Michael’s words cut through him like razor wire and felt all his self-control spin away from him at once, his anger so acute it seemed to blur all his emotions into one swirling black shadow. He bent his elbow sharply, throwing his right hand in a sudden violent upswing and then brought his arm down in one smooth motion as Michael let out a surprised cry, reaching for his cut cheek as Jaxson moved to one side.
“Never been in love, have you?” Ronan said pacing around him quickly, his face so hard and violent it seemed as if it was lit from within. “Don’t tell me. I can see that you haven’t.”
Michael let out a yell, rushing him all at once as Ronan sidestepped him easily and then threw a tight fist into Michael’s side as he let out a low growl, snapping his knee up smoothly to connect with his jaw. Michael felt his teeth slam together with a sudden crack and reached for Ronan’s hand as he swung at him wildly, breaking his grip at the last moment as he felt Ronan’s blade slice through the air in front of his face. He felt the wind knocked out of him suddenly as someone sent a swift kick downward kick into the lower part of his back and gasped quickly as all the air left his lungs at once, throwing his arm up defensively as Ronan lunged forward. He felt his head crack against the tile as Ronan knelt into his chest and opened his eyes just in time to see Ronan’s fist fly at him like a bullet, hitting him in the face hard enough to feel his lips flatten back against his teeth.
Michael tried to throw him off and felt Ronan punch him again, his blond hair flying around his face as he grabbed him by the front of the throat, reaching for his knife as he dragged it across the floor towards them with a quick slide of his hand.
“Brass knuckles?” Ronan said, twirling the knife around in his hand with the unconscious aptitude of a seasoned showman as he pressed the blade against the bloody side of his face. “Now that’s not very sportsmanlike is it? But then you like playing in a fixed game, don’t you? I could tell that from the other night.”
Ronan glanced over his shoulder as he heard Byron cry out and then go silent and grinned down at Michael savagely for a moment, watching his tan face tighten with panic.
“Too bad. Looks like we’ll have to rearrange the place settings after all. A good host’s work is never done.”
Michael let out a low roar of rage and threw his hand around Ronan’s throat and Ronan snapped away from him quickly, his dark eyes twirling like flaming pinwheels as he slid his blade beneath his eye.
“You let him drown and everything I know dies with me,” he said through clenched teeth, licking his bottom lip as he tasted blood on his lips. “You’ll never see her again.”
“Funny you should mention that,” Ronan said, grabbing hold of his hair roughly as he pressed the blade deeper. “And do you want to hear best part? Do you? I was always going to let him die, Michael. Right from the beginning. Revenge is funny that way. Ever hear the old sentiment, ‘An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind?’”
Michael let out a strangled cry as Ronan dug the blade deep enough to draw blood, his face so twisted and vicious it no longer looked precisely human.
“I always wondered why people said that like it was a bad thing. Now try to hold still for me. There’s that hero spirit. I haven’t done this in a while and I may be just. A little. Rusty.”
Jessica threw open her door almost before the police cruiser had rolled to a complete stop and spun her head around as O’Neill grabbed her shoulder, his face tightening with worry as she shook him off.
“Nolan, the other car is right behind us,” he said as she looked over his face wildly without comprehending a single word. “We have to wait. There isn’t any way to know how many men he has in there…”
Jessica shook her head and kicked open her door as her shirt slipped through O’Neill’s fingers and she glanced in both direction as she darted across the blacktop, reaching for her gun as neared the wall of glass doors at the front entrance. She heard the screech of tires behind her as she slammed her arm against the push bar and glanced over her shoulder as O’Neill met her on the opposite side, shaking his head at her as he spoke into his radio rapidly.
“Let’s go,” he said sharply, glancing back at the two officers behind them as he made a quick gesture to Jessica. “We have no idea how many men are inside. But we’re right at the end of the deadline. Nolan and I will go in first. Stay close.”
He let out a quick breath as Nolan threw him a look and nodded as he pulled his gun, sweeping to the left side of the floor automatically as she pushed through the front door. She glanced around her side of the floor quickly as she heard the other crew enter behind them and gestured to them as they moved past what looked like a waiting room, her eyes trying to turn in every direction at once. O’Neill motioned towards the long hallway leading away from the elevators as they pushed through the circular doors and they followed him in a quick jog down the corridor as he slid up alongside the stairwell entrance, making a quick gesture to the men behind them as he opened the door in one smooth motion.
Jessica looked up the white metal steps as she swept her gun inside, the maze of floors looking a lot steeper than she had hoped and jogged up the first set of steps quietly as she followed O’Neill up the dark passage, glancing down at the men below her. She pressed her fingers to her lips as they came to the second-floor landing and O’Neill paused and shook his head, dropping his gun slightly as he began to move up the next set of stairs.
“No one,” he said under his breath as Jessica matched his pace and they crested the steps in a quick lockstep of motion. “This place is fucking deserted.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” she said, her face becoming grim in the narrow light of the stairwell. “We’ll sweep the top floor as a unit. The pool should be on the west side of the building. Near the river.”
Nolan rounded the corner to the third-floor landing and barely paused for the other two officers to catch up, her eyes rolling to her watch instinctively as she ran.
Five minutes out, she thought feeling her lungs begin to burn as she pushed her legs faster. This place isn’t deserted. They’re just all moving upstairs for the main event.
Nolan felt her jaw harden as she came to the final set of stairs leading up to the top floor and looked out the window overlooking the river automa
tically, searching for the squad of police cars that was at least ten minutes behind them.
Which leaves it up to us. No choice left and no excuses. Let’s see what we can do to ruin this lunatic’s winning streak.
Jessica made a quick rolling motion with her fingers as Hendrick flattened his body against the door next to the third-floor landing and had a sudden image of Michael’s face flash through her mind, his strange, beautiful eyes following her across the floor as she tossed him the device she’d tracked him with like some low-rent magic trick. She nodded and raised her gun as O’Neill swung the door open on its hinges and then stepped inside the dark corridor silently, looking above her as she heard the soft pulse of some cheerful sixties score.
Jessica saw the florescent lights flicker above her as she walked, sputtering slightly as if the circuits were damp and held her breath as she passed what looked like a series of patient rooms, the paint peeling off the walls from long disuse. She felt a hand drop on her shoulder and turned as O’Neill’s face froze and he pointed at what looked like a rec room, a set of glass double doors separating it from the rest of the floor. Her eyes went wide as she saw a group of three men walk past the opposite wall and nodded as O’Neill gestured to the doors, waving her hand back towards the hall.
“Go around,” she said quietly. “Other entrance. I’ll cut across and cut them off.”
“Nolan…”
“Go now,” Jessica said sliding her back against the wall as her eyes darted to O’Neill with sudden fury. “Two minutes.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she heard her partner and the other officers hit the hall at double time and let out a long breath, adrenalin pumping through her veins so wildly she felt a brief sensation of lightheadedness. She ran through the narrow door leading into the rec room and looked around as she noticed some kind of utilitarian kitchen, the maze of rooms disorienting her for less than a second as she glanced from one side of the long open space to the other. She turned towards what looked like a converted den area, blinking quickly as she tried to regain her bearings and jerked her head up as she heard someone yell, her stomach churning with dread as she ran towards the sound.