by Dale Mayer
He tugged her back toward him. “Why didn’t you wait?”
“I wanted to find Roxy.” She shrugged, her head turned to search the gloom. “Then when I got further in, I thought I heard someone in front of me, then it seemed as if they snuck around me, only I didn’t know who it was or how they got there.” She was still trembling in his arms. “I knew you were behind me, but then suddenly there were two of you behind me and I didn’t know who was who.”
“Well, let’s hope they’re gone.”
“The door didn’t open,” she whispered. “So they’re still here.”
“Slide behind me and lock yourself in the bathroom.”
She shook her head.
“Now,” he whispered in a harsh voice. This so wasn’t the time. He shoved her firmly but carefully behind him. As he turned to face the storeroom, a grating came from behind the door. He rushed forward and dove low and hard.
There was a startled yell as he grabbed the man and threw him to the ground. A roar erupted as the intruder bounced to his feet and attacked.
Jazz screamed from behind him. Morgan launched himself on the intruder yet again. He landed one punch, then another only to take a hard hit to his jaw followed by a fast one two into the gut. He bent over, gasping in pain.
He could hear Jazz behind him. “Jazz, look for Roxy.”
A blow came toward him. He reacted with a quick turn, grabbed the arm, and bent, pulling the man over his head to land on the floor in front of him. There was a harsh guttural grunt as he landed. Morgan was on him in seconds. He twisted him over, hands behind his back, and held him firm.
“Jazz, I got him.”
And a voice spoke beside him. “You can have him. I’ve got Jazz.”
Chapter 15
Jazz froze. She knew that voice. But the hard metal gun prodding the middle of her back was new. Unfortunately, it was a little too easy to imagine what it was. A shotgun.
Morgan’s voice, gritty and lethal, slid from the shadows. “And what are your plans for Jazz?”
Perl snorted. “I don’t give a shit what happens to her. You, however, yeah, you’re done.”
“And the man I’m holding down?”
“He’s a fucking asshole. He’s done too. Today or later. I don’t care.”
Jazz wanted to shake her head in denial. She wanted to but couldn’t move. She didn’t want to bring any attention her way, and neither did she want to get Morgan any closer to the damn gun.
“Besides, that’s Borg you’re holding, just in case you didn’t know,” Perl said with a snicker. “He’s a mite pissed off at the moment. He wants his money.”
“Ah, money,” Morgan said from the shadows. “I presume he came back looking for it again?”
“Well, not quite. I told him to come. I wanted to clear the air. Make sure he’s pissed off and stayed pissed off. I don’t know where the money is but if it’s here to be found, it’s mine, not his. He’s had all the money he’s going to get from me.”
Jazz closed her eyes. Perl had been working for Borg?
“How long have you been the go-between for him and Billy?”
“A long fucking time. Too long. There was supposed to be a big payout in here for me. Not tiny drips.”
“So what…you got desperate?” Morgan said in a conversational tone, slightly to the left of where Jazz thought she’d heard him.
How long until the cops arrived? But like Morgan had said, they were attending to Dean. Still, the city had lots of cops. This case was heating up and the cops knew it. Someone should be coming.
The problem was – how long would they take?
“Jazz?” Morgan said. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice surprisingly calm. “So is Perl. No sign of Roxy yet.”
Where was her friend? There was enough light in here now to see most of the room, although there were more shadows than substance. “Perl, where’s Roxy?”
Perl laughed. “She’s behind you. On the floor.”
Jazz swayed unevenly. “Did you kill her?” she whispered.
“No. Not yet.” Perl pushed the gun into Jazz’s back. “I was hoping to not have to. But you screwed that up.”
“We did?” Jazz gulped. She needed to think. To do something. Anything to stall for time. To give Morgan an opportunity. For the cops to get here.
“Was the shop broken into?”
“Yeah, that was me. Sorry about that. I was trying to make it look like Borg had done it.”
“Why? Why make a break-in happen at all?”
“I needed Borg to get caught,” Perl said. “Figured if the police were looking at him, then they’d find so much wrong that they’d pin the rest on him, too.”
She shouldn’t ask. She knew she shouldn’t, but being this close to the answers, she had to. “What rest?”
Perl laughed. A cold, hard laugh Jazz had never heard coming from her before. Perl had always been a bubbly, happy type of person. Of course she had her off days. Everyone did. But Jazz had never seen anything like this.
“Haven’t you figured this out yet? Talk about thick. What a joke. Then again, Roxy’s even worse.”
“Worse?” Jazz cried. “You said you didn’t kill her.”
“I haven’t…yet.” Perl’s voice hardened. “But then you never listened, did you? Everything had to be your way. Well, I’m an artist too, remember? That had been part of the reason for being hired. Someone to help out. Someone to step up and do some design work. Gain a little more experience, have my own clients. Remember all that from the interview?”
The gun jabbed hard against her spine.
“But it didn’t work out that way, did it?”
Jazz tilted her head back slightly. No, it hadn’t. Perl was a terrible artist. And temperamental to boot when it came to her artwork. They’d very quickly taken the idea of her helping out of consideration. True, they hadn’t given her much chance because they couldn’t afford to. She couldn’t handle criticism. And she didn’t have the skill to ink the designs. There were enough shitty tattoos out there. Jazz had no intention of any coming out of her shop. She prided herself on excellence.
“You did the dragon on Dean’s butt?”
Perl gasped. “How could you know about that?”
“I knew he had one. One he was pissed off about. He said he went to a party and woke up with it on his ass.”
The gun slammed into her back again.
“He wasn’t pissed off. He might have been upset at not remembering, but he wasn’t pissed off at his tattoo.”
Jazz raised an eyebrow. “Yes, he was.”
“What’s to say,” Perl said in a mocking voice. “He was drunk and wanted sex. I agreed. I told him about the tattoo first as part of the condition, and he agreed. In fact, he thought it was freaking great idea.”
“Until the next morning.”
“I have no idea. I sure as hell didn’t stick around to find out.” She laughed, only it sounded off by the time she fell silent. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get volunteers to step up for a tattoo when you’re learning? People don’t just line up for them, you know. And if they know you aren’t the famous Jazz or her infamous sidekick Roxy, well, sometimes they get irate.”
“Did you tell people you were me?” Jazz was outraged. “How many people are walking around wearing your ink thinking it came from me?”
“A few.”
Jazz shook her head. “Jesus.” What a mess. “What do you want, Perl?”
“Justice.”
Jazz was getting more confused. “Justice,” she asked cautiously. “For what?”
“For Billy.”
Now she was really confused.
“What does Billy have to do with this?” Jazz cried. “He’s dead.”
“Of course he is. I killed him.”
*
Morgan heard the words he’d been wanting to hear since he’d first found out about his brother’s death. But it was coming out of the wrong mouth. Jazz ha
d mentioned Perl a few times, but not as a serious suspect. He slipped back off Borg, a finger to his lips. Borg nodded. They had a mutual goal here. Morgan wanted Jazz safe and that bitch with the shotgun to get what was coming to her. The business end of the shotgun worked for him. His brother deserved more than that.
He shifted until he was pressed up against the open doorway, listening to the women. Borg took up position on the other side of the doorway.
Both at odds on much but both on the same side of this issue.
Perl had to be stopped.
“But why?” Jazz cried, the hurt in her voice echoed by the hurt in Morgan’s heart. This was his brother they were discussing so casually. Was a life worth so little?
“He was leaving. Me. His lover. His love. He’d stolen enough money that he could finally get the hell out of here. And he wasn’t fucking taking me with him.”
Morgan stared in Borg’s direction, having just enough light to see the other man staring right back. He shook his head in dismay. A life was apparently worth so little.
“So you killed him?” Jazz said, a note of shock in her voice. “You’ve had other lovers. Other men that were there and then gone. Some you kicked out yourself. What was so different this time?”
Morgan winced at Perl’s cry.
“You bitch. Do you think he was just a lay for me? I could get that anywhere, anytime. And I did sometimes, particularly if Billy pissed me off. When he was mooning all over you, he was still screwing my brains out. But no, he said he was leaving. He was going to try and get you to go with him.”
Morgan could hear Jazz’s horrified cry. “I had nothing to do with Billy. Nothing. I didn’t even like the man.”
“Ha. He’s panted over you since forever. If you’d screwed him just once, then at least he’d know how bloody average you are. He’d have realized how much he’d built you up in his mind, and he’d see you for what you really are.”
“What I am?” Jazz’s voice had dropped in pain. Had Perl hurt her, or was it the words that were doing the damage?
“You’re nothing but an arrogant bitch who thinks the world revolves around you.” Perl’s voice took on a poisonous edge. “I told him to forget about you. That you were nothing. But he wouldn’t listen.”
Jazz cried, “I am nothing. I was nothing to him. Billy was a manipulator and a fucking liar. I never returned his attention because I hated what he was. I hated the type of trouble he loved to stir up for no other reason than to watch us peons squirm and react to his machinations. He was terrible.”
“He was wonderful,” Perl snarled. “And he was mine.”
“But…”
Morgan strained to hear the answer.
“But he was leaving. And he made it very clear that he hadn’t intended to take me with him from the beginning. I was someone to screw when no one else was handy.”
“He screwed with everyone,” Jazz said in a tired, frustrated voice. “Even his own brother.”
“Of course. I helped him. He wanted a tattoo on his ass to prove to his brother that you two had been lovers. I was happy to do it. I laughed the whole time. What a high school thing to do, branding your lovers. Men aren’t even that bad,” she scoffed. “Of course it was fun to keep up afterwards.”
“I wasn’t branding them,” Jazz said. “The only men who got the tattoos were men I loved and I was willing to spend my life with. Those men I gifted with a little bit of me. Something special I had to give that was from me. Part of me.” She groaned. “All of them accepted it in the same light.”
“Except you wouldn’t give Billy one.”
“Of course not,” Jazz cried. “Aren’t you listening? I was never his lover. In fact, I couldn’t stand him. I tolerated him only for Morgan’s sake.”
Morgan closed his eyes as the revelations came hard and fast. Had he brought all this into being by being too generous, too kind a brother? Had Billy just been bad from the beginning? How was it possible for Billy to grow up so wrong?
And look what he’d done to Jazz. Morgan hadn’t even seen it. She’d tolerated his brother for his sake. Yes, he could see her doing that. It hurt him to think it had been so hard for her, but he understood. He’d have done the same.
Still, he’d known Billy was a problem. But he’d let him wreak havoc anyway.
“And besides,” Jazz said, her voice so low Morgan had to strain to hear. “He screwed with everyone. It’s no wonder he led you on believing you were going to be part of his future. That’s how he operated. He lied and stole and manipulated everyone to get what he wanted. All the while he was laughing inside.”
“I loved him,” Perl said, a catch in her voice.
“I’m glad,” Jazz said simply. “He needed to be loved. Everyone does. Especially those that don’t deserve it.”
“I couldn’t let him continue to treat me that way.”
“No,” Jazz said gently. “You couldn’t.”
Morgan bowed his head. No wonder he loved this woman so much. She had heart.
His phone vibrated. A text message from Shawn. We’re outside. Snipers can see inside. Need Jazz out of the way. What’s your status?
Chapter 16
“So now what?” Jazz asked quietly. “You killed Billy. Dean. You were involved in Billy and Borg’s theft ring. Now Borg wants his money. Where does that leave you?”
She should have kept her mouth shut. She shouldn’t be pushing Perl any further down this road, but damn it, she wanted this over with. “Are you really going to kill me because of him?”
“I killed Dean because of him.”
“Yes, but you didn’t kill Dean for him. And that’s a big difference. You might have killed Billy as a crime of passion, but killing Dean was trying to cover your tracks. You can’t expect that to be accepted by anyone.”
“He deserved it. He was trying to grab all the money anyway.”
“But he didn’t get it, did he? And he went to the police and told them about you and the store being used for your dealings, and about Borg. The cops are after Borg now. He needs to get the hell out of town and stay out. They have a long memory here.”
“No, he needs to stay here and take the fall for killing you and Morgan.”
“And how are you going to do that?” Jazz ran her hand through her hair. “The men have already left. The cops are already here. There’s no getting away. No going free from this point on.”
“The cops aren’t here,” Perl scoffed. “And I have to kill you. Anyone would understand that.”
No. Jazz sure as hell didn’t. She’d heard whispering from the back room and could see out the front window from the corner of her eye. And the cops. It looked like a SWAT team had arrived outside as well.
“Perl, it’s over.” Morgan called from the back room. “Put down the damn gun. The cops are here.”
“So what? This is my exit strategy. I know where I’m going from here. Into hell with your fucking brother.”
“Please, Perl—” Jazz groaned as the gun jabbed into her kidney. “Why are you picking on me? You already shot me, damn it.”
“Of course I did, you bitch. Billy was always about you. I wanted to take you and that lousy brother of his out so bad. Only I could never get a clean shot.”
“Where’d you get the guns?”
“My grandfather’s house. He doesn’t even know they are missing.”
“And the electronics in our bedroom?” Morgan called out. “Was that you, too?”
“Of course. I figured you had to have the damn money. There’s nothing like pillow talk to open up about secrets.” She snorted. “Another reason to shoot Dean. His damn electronics didn’t work.”
Thank God. Jazz loved hearing that bit, but it was much harder to deal with the shock of the woman’s duplicity. She’d seen Perl at the shop every time she’d been there – then remembered that she’d been walking in after running errands several times. And with Jazz not being at the store full-time she could have slipped out many times. Damn. Anger thre
ading her voice, she asked, “And the electronics in the shop?”
“That was for Billy and Borg.” She snickered. “I admit to having a lot of fun with that system.”
With the ball in the pit of her stomach threatening to explode, her hands shaking with nerves, Jazz desperately tried to talk Perl into giving up. “Please put down the gun,” she said.
“Hell no. I’m not getting out of here alive, but that don’t matter, because you aren’t either.”
“And what about Borg and Morgan?” Jazz cried. “Are you planning on killing all three of us?”
“Of course.” Perl turned to face the backroom. “Morgan and Borg, get your asses out here.”
“No can do,” Morgan called out. “Borg has left already.”
There was an odd silence.
“What?” Perl yelped. “No way. I would have heard him.”
There was an odd shuffling sound. Jazz wanted to yell at him to run. If Borg got away, then so could he. Instead, she watched him slowly appear. She raised her hand to her chest. Please, no.
Morgan faced her in the doorway, his arm down low. “Well, you didn’t. As you know, the door back here is very quiet. While you were talking, he grabbed the opportunity. He’s gone.”
Jazz shook her head. “Damn it, Morgan, why didn’t you leave, too?”
“Not without you.”
Perl snorted. “You two make me sick.” She shoved Jazz toward Morgan. “You love him so much you can die with him.”
Morgan snatched her up in his arms but before she could wrap her arms around him, he shoved her safely behind him and he shouted, “Now.”
Perl raised her gun and took aim.
An odd popping sound filled the air. There was the sound of glass shattering, followed by a heavy thud and a clatter of a gun.
Jazz spun around, afraid of what she’d missed.
Morgan snagged up her again and pulled her tight. “It’s okay. It’s all over.”
“What’s all over? Perl?” She twisted in his arms. Perl was on the floor, the gun several feet away from her. “Oh my God, is she dead?”