“It’s someone named William—he’s trying to buy your mother’s release,” he whispered. “She called him Billy.”
She gasped. “Oh, my God. Mom was right. It was Billy! Logan, he’s—”
“Shh!” He tested the doorknob—yes! Mac had left it unlocked, obviously figuring Emma wasn’t going anywhere. “Stay down here!” he repeated.
He let himself out and moved through the first floor, silent as a wraith, following the sound of voices. Passing through the kitchen into the dining room, he slipped around the perimeter and hugged the wall next to the arched entrance into the living room.
Logan hoped Mac would acquiesce to William’s demand and head back downstairs to fetch Emma. With his brother safely isolated from the others, Logan could surprise him, subdue him, and no civilian would get hurt in the process.
And then it would be over. His tormented brother would get the help he needed, and Logan would have peace. He’d be able to get on with his life. And so would his victims.
William was saying, “I don’t think you fully appreciate how precarious your situation is, Mac. You’ve gotten sloppy, allowed your greed to affect your judgment.”
“Don’t give me that crap. We have a deal.”
“Do we? Try this deal on for size. I walk out of here with Candy and Emma. In return, I refrain from turning you in to the authorities.”
Mac sneered, “While we’re on the subject of precarious situations—how far do you think an old gimp like you would make it to the door?”
“You’re assuming no one knows I’m here.”
In the strained silence that followed, Logan could almost smell his brother’s escalating panic. He tightened his grip on his weapon. Mac was unpredictable under the best of circumstances.
Mac growled, “You’re bluffing. The last thing a guy in your position would do is let it leak that he’s tangled up in nasty business like this.”
“Oh, my sensibilities aren’t quite so delicate as all that, Mac. I’ve survived worse—and from men who make you look like an Eagle Scout. This isn’t a battle you’re going to win.”
Logan tensed at Candy’s shrill cry. Mac must have grabbed her. The fearful whimper that followed told him her life was in immediate peril—Mac was armed.
William’s voice was tight, controlled. “Hurting Candy can gain you nothing.”
“Call off your watchdogs, then we’ll talk.”
Logan heard Emma racing up the basement stairs, obviously alarmed by her mother’s scream. In the heartbeat of time it took his trained mind to analyze the situation—and the inherent potential for disaster—Logan had already swung into the archway, gun leveled at his brother.
Startled, Mac jerked around to face him, using Candy as a shield, a small semiautomatic pressed to her temple. If Logan had harbored any lingering hope that his brother was sane, it shriveled as he stared into those hard golden eyes so like his own. And yet so alien.
William and Candy appeared momentarily stunned at seeing their nemesis confronted by a virtual clone of himself. Emma charged into the dining room. Without breaking eye contact with Mac, he waved her behind him.
William stood tense and. watchful, obviously frustrated by the limitations of his damaged body. Candy’s eyes were fixed on Logan; she appeared frightened but alert. Instinct told him he could count on her not to panic and make some sudden wrong move.
Mac said, “Have you folks met my illustrious brother? The hotshot G-man. Or I should say former G-man.” He chuckled. “Even the damn FBI was too corrupt for him!”
“Don’t make this worse, Mac. I know you want to end this thing as much as I do.”
Logan’s two-handed grip on his gun never wavered. Only he was aware of the tension radiating into his arms, his hands, his finger poised on the trigger.
Don’t take aim if you’re not prepared to shoot. It was the first thing the firearms instructor had taught him at the academy.
Was he prepared to look into his brother’s eyes, his own eyes, and pull the trigger?
He felt sweat pop out on his upper lip. His eyes burned, staring without blinking, staring at this brother whom he both loved and hated. Could he? If he got a clear shot…?
Mac’s eyes glowed with triumph. “You can’t do it, can you, bro? You can’t shoot me. Hey, remember when I broke into the Tarantinos’ garage and swiped those bikes? Remember how you stood up for me, backed up my alibi? What were we then, twelve, thirteen? Forty bucks, I got for those bikes. We laughed like hell after and split a pizza. A whole pizza, remember? ‘Cause I had all that cash burning a hole in my pocket.”
He addressed his captive audience. “That’s the kind of brother this guy is. Loyal. Remember those days, bro?”
Logan remembered. He didn’t want to, but the memories swarmed in on him from all directions. The fights. The laughs. The scrapes with the law. The way the two of them always stuck together. The deep love he felt for this brother whom he’d always tried to protect.
He thought of his mother’s tear-choked plea before he drove away that morning. Whatever he’s done, Logan, he’s still family.
Candy’s dark eyes remained glued to Logan’s. He read fear, yes, but more than that, trust. In him. This woman was counting on him to save her life.
It was no more than he’d promised her daughterhis passionate, tormented, hardheaded Zara, who’d managed in six short days to peel away years’ worth of cynicism and mistrust and expose a man he’d thought long gone.
Trust me, he’d told her. I’ll do everything in my power to end this, to see your mother and your sister safe.
His grip eased and his mind cleared. Infused with a renewed sense of purpose, a cold resolve, he steadied his aim.
Mac said, “You know you’re not going to shoot me, Logan. Toss the gun over here.”
Logan doubted his brother’s sophomoric fixation on Candy Carmelle would do her any good now. At that moment Mac’s actions were driven by panic, and by his hatred for Logan.
When Logan failed to obey, Mac jerked Candy tighter and adjusted the angle of the gun barrel against her temple. Behind him, Emma gasped softly. William tensed, his knuckles gleaming white around the brass handle of the cane.
Mac said, “If you don’t lose the gun within the next five seconds, she’s dead.”
Logan knew he wasn’t bluffing. He tossed his ninemillimeter at his brother’s feet. Grinning, Mac knelt with Candy, grabbed the gun and pocketed it, then started backing up to the front door, hauling his hostage along with him.
What would he do with her when he got away? The answer was obvious. She was of no further use to him. Logan’s backup weapon, a slim.380, was holstered under his jeans at the small of his back. He prayed Mac would become overconfident and lower his guard. But just as in the old days, his brother seemed to read his mind.
“Keep those hands high, bro. Don’t make me nervous.” Mac reached the door and groped behind him for the knob. Holding Candy in a viselike grip, he eased the door open and started to back through.
And froze when his head encountered the muzzle of a gun.
Zara materialized behind him, holding the.357 Magnum Logan had left with Mrs. Feeney.
The unloaded.357 Magnum!
Emma whimpered, “Zara. Oh, God.”
Zara said, “Give me the gun, Mac.”
His obdurate expression told Logan he had no intention of cooperating. Zara thumbed the hammer back. Moonlight glinted on the cylinder as it revolved with a well-oiled snap-clunk. Mac flinched.
“Do it,” she said.
Did she know there were no bullets in that thing? If so, she was gambling for high stakes—her own life and her mother’s. Her audacity and courage humbled him. How had he ever imagined this woman as selfish and spoiled?
“All right…” Mac held the gun up, and Zara took it from him. Candy ran to Emma as Logan drew the .380, all too aware that Mac was still armed.
“Hands behind your head!” he barked, advancing on him.
Mac start
ed to obey even as his eyes flicked to Zara standing in the doorway, blocking his escape route.
Logan shouted, “No!”
Mac spun toward Zara, pulling Logan’s ninemillimeter from his pocket and training it on her in one smooth motion.
The.380 erupted in Logan’s hands. Mac jerked but remained on his feet. Staring at his brother in wonder, he touched the small red stain on his chest.
The enormity of what he’d done slammed into Logan with sickening force. He watched Mac’s dazed expression turn venomous, watched as he began raising his weapon one last time, taking aim at his brother.
Logan’s initial shot had been an automatic response, an act of necessity to save Zara’s life. Could he do it again, with cold calculation, staring directly into Mac’s eyes? He steeled himself, knowing he had no choice.
Suddenly William was there, his arm arcing in a blur of motion. A resounding crack! sounded and Mac dropped heavily to the carpet, his legs crumpling under a savage blow from the older man’s cane.
Logan’s gun hand slowly dropped to his side, the .380 as heavy as a lead brick. Through a haze he heard movement, shaky voices, someone saying to call 911.
Vaguely he sensed Zara by his side, murmuring words of comfort in his ear, touching his face with cool, trembling fingers, urging him to turn away from the sight of his brother lying in a twisted heap, his lifeblood soaking into the carpet.
But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t respond. All he could do was stare into Mac’s golden eyes, wide open but unseeing.
God forgive me.
Chapter Fourteen
Zara sat slumped on the plush burgundy sofa near the cold stone fireplace in Mac’s den, staring at the high, wood-beamed ceiling. Emma and her mother sat on either side of her, and she held tightly to their hands, trying to ignore the bustle of activity in the living room.
The local police, a few uniforms and two plainclothes detectives, had been joined by someone from the FBI. The coroner had arrived and was doing whatever grisly thing coroners do to dead bodies at a crime scene. Zara and the others had already been questioned separately. Candy and Emma were waiting to be taken to the local hospital for a checkup.
Logan was in the living room with the cops, filling them in on the details, as cool and in control as that first day when he’d grabbed her at Kennedy Airport. That could have been six months ago, rather than six days. She wasn’t the same person she’d been then.
He’d zoned out for a while after the shooting. Nothing she said or did seemed to get through to him. He must have been in a kind of shock. It was under- standable, after the horror he’d just been through—watching his brother die by his own hand.
But as soon as the authorities began arriving, he’d transformed into the consummate law enforcement type: cooperative, informative and frighteningly detached.
He’d ignored her, had politely rebuffed her efforts to get him alone or have any personal communication at all. No mention of what would happen in the future, or even the next hour.
Logan Byrne, her anchor, had cut her free. She felt helplessly adrift at a time when she needed him more than ever. And she was certain he needed her.
Billy Sharke, her mother’s onetime movie director, sat opposite the women on a matching love seat. It was he who’d set this whole mess in motion by hiring Mac to procure the gun for his private collection. At the time, he’d believed, as had she, that Logan’s brother was a legitimate dealer in art and collectibles.
She couldn’t blame Billy for what had happened, and she no longer blamed herself—though that was one of her specialties, she now knew, taking the blame for others’ failings. Mac Byrne alone was responsible for the horror she and her family had endured.
Emma leaned forward, looking past Zara to catch Candy’s eye. “It’s time.”
Time for what? Zara wondered distractedly. Had she missed something?
She turned her head and looked at Candy. The sudden apprehension in her mother’s expression alarmed her. She sat up straight. “Mom? What is it?”
Emma asked Candy, “Would you like me to tell—”
“No.” Candy squeezed Zara’s hand harder. “It’s something I should’ve done long ago.”
Affection infused Billy’s baritone voice. “Candy…whatever you have to say, just give it to us straight, sweetheart. After what we’ve all been through, I don’t think anything could come as a surprise.”
“Oh…I don’t know about that…”
Zara was instantly on the alert. She’d never heard her mother sound timid before.
Candy looked Billy in the eye. “I never should have married John. It was the biggest mistake of my life.”
He smiled wryly. “What a shocker. I kind of figured that one out for myself when your bridegroom crippled me and threatened both our lives.”
Zara’s heart slammed into her throat. “What?”
Billy looked contrite. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“It’s all right,” Candy said. “It’s past time all this came to light. But the thing you never knew, Billy…It wasn’t just you and me that were in danger. John said if I ever got in touch with you again, he’d…” . She cast her anguished glance at Zara and Emma, her voice a hoarse whisper. “My babies…”
Billy paled. He leaned forward. “That animal threatened his own children?”
Zara covered her mother’s trembling hand with both of hers. As shocking as these revelations were, she didn’t doubt they were true.
Candy squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “They…the girls weren’t his. He wasn’t their father. And he knew that.”
Billy’s face reflected Zara’s own dawning comprehension.
Candy said, “Emma and Zara are your daughters, Billy.”
Billy slowly sat back. He stared at the twins, and they at him. Now that it had been said, the physical. resemblance was unmistakable. The eyes. The mouth.
No one spoke. The truth trickled into Zara’s consciousness like water in sand, filling the empty spaces in her soul. Completing her.
She’d never had a father before this day. That knowledge was somehow uplifting. She had a fresh start on being a daughter, on forging that special relationship.
Billy looked as if he’d been walloped with a twoby-four. “Daughters. I have two daughters.”
Candy said, “I don’t expect you to forgive me, Billy. I never stopped loving you, but I. I thought I could have something with John that you couldn’t offer—something I’d dreamed of all my life. Respectability. A place in society. No more money worries. He seemed so devoted, so loving. At first.”
She grimaced. “He could really turn on the charm when he wanted to. What I didn’t realize then was that I was an ornament to him, nothing more. It was your basic whirlwind courtship. We were engaged before I knew I was pregnant. You were…well, you weren’t exactly ‘Father Knows Best’ material back then. The crazy Hollywood life-style…and never enough money. When I found out I was expecting, I did what I thought, was best for my baby—I went ahead and married John. I’m sorry, Billy. God, I’m so sorry.”
Zara held her mother as she wept.
After a few moments Billy said quietly, “Candy…don’t. Don’t do this to yourself, sweetheart.”
“But it was so wrong of me.”
He sighed, and in that sound Zara heard weariness, compassion and regret for all that could never be. He said, “And if it had worked out the way you’d expected, if Sutcliffe had been a devoted husband and father, then what you did might not seem so wrong. We make decisions. Some of them, we wish we hadn’t. God knows I have a few regrets of my own.”
Candy looked up, her eyes red-rimmed. “I can’t believe you’re not angry. Thirty years ago you’d have thrown a fit if you’d found out what I’d done.”
He smiled grimly. “Don’t kid yourself. Thirty years ago I’d have torn the place apart. People change, Candy. The thing I don’t get, though—I can’t see a guy like Sutcliffe, all ego, raising someone else’s kids as
his own.”
Candy said, “But that’s what it was all about, don’t you see? Ego. If he’d let it be known the girls weren’t his, it would be like admitting to the world that his wife had gotten something over on him. Taking the girls from me was his way of punishing me.”
Until that moment, Zara had never realized how alike Sutcliffe and her ex-husband were. Both had been unspeakably cruel to people they’d sworn to love and protect, all for the sake of their precious egos. Logan had been right about the twisted motives that drove them.
Emma said, “Billy—” She smiled self-consciously. “I don’t know what to call you.”
His answering smile was soft and downright paternal. “Billy’s fine. But if you want to try ‘Dad’ on for size, I’m game.”
She continued, “Mom said my fa—I mean, John Sutcliffe destroyed you. He had you discredited, blacklisted in Hollywood. You’ve obviously done very well for yourself despite all that.”
“Have you ever heard of Magic in Motion?”
Zara answered. “It’s one of the companies filmmakers hire to create special effects in their movies. Monsters, tornadoes, spaceships, whatever. M and M has been involved in a couple of my clients’ pictures. Are you with the company?”
“I am the company. I created it.”
Zara frowned. “But Roger Stevenson—”
“Roger’s been with me from the beginning. He’s the ostensible CEO, the front guy, and I’m—” he made a vaporous motion with his fingers “—invisible.”
Emma’s eyes shone with admiration. “You figured out a way to get around the blacklisting.”
“In a way, Sutcliffe did me a favor. I was an okay director, but let’s face it—no Spielberg. Back then, we had no budget to speak of on those cheap horror flicks. I had to roll up my sleeves and help hammer out the special effects—not that they were all that special. Giant rubber sea creatures and sheet-metal robots. But, God, I had a blast making them. When Sutcliffe destroyed my directing career, it seemed natural to switch gears and do what I really loved.”
Candy smiled in fond remembrance. “Well, those silly effects were special to me. I loved those giant rubber sea creatures and sheet-metal robots.”
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