Even though he’d seen it happen before, Shel couldn’t believe the suddenness with which the violence had erupted. He watched Spider fall in the periphery of his vision, but he kept his eyes on Bobby Lee. Beside Shel, Max bunched, ready to leap into action. Shel stilled the Labrador with a hand signal and Max subsided.
One of the sniper’s ruby dots flicked to the exposed side of Bobby Lee’s head and tracked across his face. Even though he couldn’t see the light, Bobby Lee instinctively pulled back more tightly behind the young woman. She shuddered as she cried. Tears tracked her face and blood ran down her chin.
Shel continued to hold his hands up and offered no threat. He debated saying anything until the young woman started fighting against Bobby Lee.
“Don’t fight him,” Shel instructed. “Just-”
“Shut up!” Bobby Lee roared. “Shut up! Shut up!” He brought the pistol around and pointed it at Shel. Shel saw the young man’s finger tighten on the trigger and knew he was going to shoot.
Before Shel could move, two sledgehammer blows chopped into his chest and one caught him in the right shoulder. The impacts vibrated through him and drove him back as pain washed away his thoughts. The sharp bite of intense agony told him the vest hadn’t stopped all of the bullets. As he fell, he managed to grab Max’s left foreleg.
Hold on, Shel told himself. Hold on. He tried because he knew that Max might attack. Without him there to back Max up, Bobby Lee would gun him down. Shel tried to maintain his grip, but the white-hot pain sucked him into a whirling pool of blackness.
›› 2040 Hours
Helplessly Victor Gant sat handcuffed in the back of the FBI sedan and watched his son write his death warrant. Victor spoke through the wire mesh that locked him in the rear seat.
Urlacher was crouched behind the driver’s side door with the loudhailer clutched in one hand and a pistol in the other.
“If you kill my boy,” Victor threatened hoarsely, “the deal’s off. I won’t tell you nothing. You hear me?”
“Hold your fire,” Urlacher said over the radio. He didn’t turn around or even acknowledge that Victor had spoken. “Nobody shoots until I give the word.”
Adrenaline flooded Victor’s senses. In frustration, he pulled at the handcuffs that kept his arms behind his back. He watched the violence unfolding in the tattoo shop and tried not to be sick.
For the first time in years, Victor was afraid. Fear hadn’t touched him like that in a long time. And he couldn’t remember the last occasion he’d been concerned over anybody outside of his own skin. Not even for Fat Mike, who’d been with him for over thirty years.
But he was afraid now for his son, whom he’d barely gotten to know. A man was supposed to be afraid for his son. Victor didn’t want to be, but he saw so much of himself inside Bobby Lee that he didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.
And he was scared to death that something terrible was about to happen. All he could do was sit and watch.
“Bobby Lee,” Urlacher said over the loudhailer.
Inside the tattoo parlor, Bobby Lee spun toward the line of cars out in the parking lot. He brought the pistol up to the side of the young woman’s face. The barrel was superheated from the recent firing. She jerked her head away as the barrel seared her flesh.
Don’t shoot, Bobby Lee. Victor willed his son to hear him. She’s just scared and hurt. You still got her. But for a moment he thought Bobby Lee was going to shoot anyway.
Instead, Bobby Lee pulled the pistol back and clubbed the woman’s ear. She stumbled and nearly fell, but she stayed on her feet in front of him. A handful of ruby laser dots danced across Bobby Lee’s face.
Victor stopped breathing and waited for one of the snipers to empty Bobby Lee’s brainpan.
“Hold your fire,” Urlacher ordered.
Bobby Lee yanked the woman in front of him again. He propelled her to the door and opened it a little. “I want a car!” he yelled. “And I want an airplane standing by at the airport.”
“Kid’s seen too many movies,” the FBI driver said quietly.
Victor cursed at him and kicked the back of the seat.
Urlacher and the FBI driver ignored him.
“Bobby Lee,” Urlacher said, “I’ve got your father in the car with me. He doesn’t want you to get hurt. He wants you to surrender.”
“You lie!” Bobby Lee yelled. “My old man wouldn’t give in to nobody like you!”
Urlacher turned to Victor and spoke through the mesh. “It’s your play. You want to talk to him or sit on the sidelines?”
Victor hesitated only for a moment. “I’ll talk.”
Urlacher nodded at the driver. “Get him out of the back.”
Gingerly the driver eased back and opened the rear door.
Looking back, Urlacher locked eyes with Victor. “You try to run, I’m gonna shoot your legs out from under you. That’ll probably spook Bobby Lee; then these men out here will blow him out of his socks. You be sure and think about what you’re doing.”
“I am,” Victor gritted. He didn’t try to get out of the car. “Can you make this go away too? If I give you what you want?” If Tran didn’t kill him first.
Urlacher hesitated. Victor wouldn’t have believed the man if he’d just said yes like it was nothing.
“It’ll take some doing,” Urlacher said, “but I can convince the right people that what you’re going to tell us will be worth it.”
“Even after Bobby Lee killed them men?”
“It’ll be a tough sell,” Urlacher admitted. “But I’ve sold worse.”
Victor nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.” He slid off the seat and stood beside the car. He raised his voice. “Bobby Lee, can you see me?”
Bobby Lee jerked his head around. His Confederate flag bandanna hung askew and allowed his hair to trickle down into his face. He looked worried and scared and lost.
Just like a kid, Victor realized.
“I can see you,” Bobby Lee said. “What are you doing with them?”
“They got me under arrest.” Victor smiled like it was all one big joke and he was just getting to the punch line. He turned slightly so that the handcuffs showed.
“Why?” Bobby Lee demanded. He looked more lost than ever. He kept turning his head from side to side, trying to take it all in.
“Bobby Lee,” Victor said, afraid he was going to lose him, “look at me.”
Bobby Lee settled a little.
“You’re gonna have to turn yourself in,” Victor said.
“No way.” Bobby Lee shook his head vigorously. “I ain’t going to prison. I got me a hostage. They’re gonna give me a car and a plane, or I’m gonna kill this girl.”
The ruby lights hung on to Bobby Lee’s head, face, and exposed shoulder like a clutch of predatory insects.
“That’s stupid talking,” Victor said. “I cut you a deal. They’re gonna let you go free.”
Thirty years and more of dealing with Tran, and Victor was going to burn that bridge in a heartbeat for a son he barely knew. It almost didn’t make sense, but blood was blood, and Bobby Lee was his boy.
“Don’t need you to cut me no deal,” Bobby Lee shouted back. “I’m gonna cut my own deal.”
“They ain’t gonna let you out of here, Son,” Victor said in the calmest voice he could manage. “They can’t. Goes against FBI rules.” He didn’t want to tell Bobby Lee they could kill him in an eye blink because that might unnerve him even more.
“You scared?” Bobby Lee asked.
The question startled Victor. “No. Why?”
“Because you ain’t never called me son before.”
Victor hadn’t, and he only then realized he’d called Bobby Lee that. But it had seemed so natural calling him that when he was trying to calm him down.
“Just give up the girl,” Victor said. “Put your weapon down. We’ll get through this just fine.”
Bobby Lee hesitated; then he shook his head again. “I can’t. I don’t want to go to prison.”
“You ain’t gonna go to no-”
“Shut up!” Bobby Lee roared. “I don’t know how they got you here to lie to me, but I ain’t gonna believe you! You ain’t never cared about me!” He pointed the pistol at Victor.