“What do you call what he did to Mac? He tried to kill him. You saw what he did to Clarisse. You also know he probably had a hand in her parents’ deaths. His car gets stolen the night they’re killed in a hit-and-run? Come on, you can’t tell me that’s not hokey.”
Sully refused to cry despite the overwhelming emotion threatening to take him under. “It’s personal, Jayce. We don’t know for sure Mac’s gonna make it. He might not be able to live a normal life after this. You tell me what the fuck you’d do if it was your wife or daughter lying in that hospital bed!”
Jason stared at the wall for a long moment. “I don’t want to know what happens in there,” he quietly said.
“You grab the pizza guy’s car and leave. If it makes you feel better, you come back here and drive my car to Harborside and wait for me there. It’ll be there on surveillance video, give me an alibi. In fact, that’s for the best. Go sit with Mac for me.”
“My choices are to be a fucking pussy coward asshole or an accomplice to murder. Not very good.”
“You’re not a coward. You helped me find her. I can do the rest.
Your hands are clean, and I’ll still respect you in the fucking morning.” His face hardened. “I’m not letting this asshole get away with this. I won’t let him take the people I love away from me.
Besides,” he said with a smile, “a body means less fucking paperwork and no goddamn trial or IA investigation to sit through.”
That finally pulled a smile and laugh from Jason. “Jesus, Sul!” He shook his head. “All right. You call me within twenty minutes after you go through the door, or I’m placing an anonymous call to 911 that there’s a violent domestic disturbance in progress. Deal?”
“Deal. Let’s go.”
Sully kept the gun on the seat under the pizza. The pie had gone cold, but Sully didn’t care. It was only for show.
The kid at the parlor had looked up Bryan’s order. Bryan had used the name Smith.
Of course.
Paid cash.
Sully parked at the end of the building where Jason could easily get the car. Before he stepped out, he pulled a baseball cap also bearing the pizza parlor’s logo down over his head and slumped his shoulders. He pulled on a pair of gloves and balanced the pizza on top of the gun, which he held flat against the bottom of the box.
When he knocked, he heard an angry male voice swear. “Who’s there?”
Sully put on a fake Bronx accent. “Antonio’s Pizza. Got an order for Mr. Smith.”
“What the fuck?”
Sully heard the door unlock, and then Bryan opened it a little.
Sully couldn’t see past him into the room, but he saw all he needed.
The fingers of Bryan’s right hand were curled around the edge of the door, and the fingers of his left were pressed against the doorjamb.
No gun in his hands.
“I already got my pizza.”
Sully jammed the gun against Bryan’s chest. He pushed him inside the room and kicked the door shut behind him. “Special toppings, this time, asshole.” He didn’t dare take his attention off Bryan to look at Clarisse as he let the box drop to the floor. Outside, he heard the car start and pull out.
The clock was ticking.
Bryan drew away from Sully. Sully was prepared and kicked out, knocking the larger man off balance. Bryan fell backward and started scrabbling toward the bed, where Sully saw the gun lying on the bedspread.
Fully aware Bryan couldn’t look like he was beaten to a bloody pulp for his plan to work, Sully hauled off and kicked him between the legs, nailing him in the balls. He didn’t get him as hard as he wanted. Bryan flipped over and kicked out, catching him in his bad leg.
Clarisse watched in shock as Sully and Bryan battled near the door. She couldn’t walk, but she could hop. She leaned forward and caught the far side of the bed for balance. Stretching, she couldn’t reach the gun. She let out a muffled cry as Sully went down and Bryan grabbed for Sully’s gun. She yanked on the bedspread, her maneuverability severely hampered by the handcuffs, and started pulling the bedspread toward her.
The gun inched closer to her hands as Sully and Bryan battled on the floor on the other side. She finally got it, fumbled it, then managed to find and release the safety.
Hobbled and trying to maintain her balance, she edged around the bed. She couldn’t even scream at Sully to get out of the way, and she was not a good enough shot, especially with adrenaline coursing through her, to not hit him.
Then Bryan managed to roll over on top of Sully and, sitting up, drew back to punch him.
She fired.
The gun kicked back and flew from her hands. She watched in horror as Bryan looked at her, then slumped to the side as Sully pushed him off.
Sully scrambled to his feet and managed to catch Clarisse before she fell. He eased her and the chair back into position, then gently pulled the tape from her mouth.
“Are you okay, baby?”
She couldn’t speak, the adrenaline crash hitting her hard and fast, sending her spiraling toward shock.
He ripped the tape off her legs and pulled her to him. They wouldn’t have much time. He rained kisses on her face as he tightly clutched her to him. “It’s okay, baby. It’s over. He’s dead.”
“Check him,” she whispered. “Now. Check him.”
He left her on the bed and limped over to Bryan. Her shot had hit him in the chest, near his heart. Not dead yet, but the wound was sucking. He should bleed out pretty soon.
“Not yet.”
“Kill him,” she managed. “Kill the fucker.”
They didn’t have time for this. His plan had been to stage it to marginally look like a suicide. Considering what Bryan had done, crime scene techs would have overlooked any inconsistencies with Jason smoothing the way.
This, however, wasn’t good.
“We can’t. We need to get out of here.”
She vigorously shook her head. “Kill him, or I will.”
“Just a minute.” He ripped the duct tape remnants from the chair and returned it to its place at the table. He checked Bryan—still breathing.
He found Clarisse’s phone on the dresser, scooped it into his pocket along with the change. Then he rummaged through Bryan’s pockets until he found the handcuff key. He freed her and rubbed her wrists. “Baby, are you okay?”
She couldn’t take her eyes off Bryan’s still body. “Is he dead?”
He cradled her face in his hands and forced her to look at him.
“Pet, listen to me. Focus on me.” He felt her trembling, and her color didn’t look good. “Did he hurt you?” Some bruising already shadowed her left cheekbone, but not bad.
“No. He just slapped me around. Fucking pussy coward asshole!”
she angrily shot over Sully’s shoulder at Bryan.
Despite the situation, Sully had to bite back a laugh. If all he’d done was slap her, then he’d only pissed her off, not hurt her. “We have to go. Now.”
“I want him dead!”
Sully checked Bryan again. He stripped off his right glove and touched his fingers to the man’s carotid artery. His pulse felt weak, thready, his breathing shallow. He wouldn’t last long. Sully didn’t see where the bullet had struck the wall or door. It must not have passed through him.
He pulled the glove back on and found Bryan’s gun, wiped it clean on the bedspread and then put it in Bryan’s hand to get the prints on it before placing it on the floor near him. He retrieved his gun and both pizza boxes, the duct tape remnants, handcuffs, and quickly wiped her prints off the chair and in the bathroom. As a final thought, he found Bryan’s wallet and took his laptop, along with the fake hospital ID he found laying on the table. It could look like a robbery. He then stood in front of Clarisse.