The agent cleared his throat. “Also, I’m willing to forget that you assaulted a sheriff’s deputy and escaped from police custody, because you did us all a favor by killing Jasper.”
Brendan’s ears perked up. “What did you just say?”
“That I’m glad you had the balls to take down your own brother,” Norman explained, spelling it out slowly. “Not a lot of folks could handle that.”
“You called him Jasper.”
“Right. That was the codename his crew used for him.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” Norman said, exasperated now. “It was their name for the leader. That’s all we know.”
Michelle was now observing them intently, ignoring Kim’s idle chatter. With everything else going on, Brendan’s brain had a tough time slotting all the puzzle pieces together. His brother wasn’t Jasper; that much was clear. Before her death, Spee had whispered Michelle’s name. Brendan had thought she’d been worried because Michelle had been shot, but now that he thought about it, Spee couldn’t have known about that.
Michelle’s stare riveted right through Brendan, probing and cold.
Maybe Spee had worked out what everyone else had missed.
Kim leaned in close to say something. Michelle’s expression turned to stone. Her head turned robotically, her eyes locking on to her target. In a blur, she trapped Kim in a headlock and brought a bright object up to her neck. Brendan moved in, followed by Norman. The agent drew his gun.
“Freeze!” Michelle said, the agony of her wounds penetrating her voice as Kim struggled. The IV stand flew to the ground when Kim’s leg swept under it. “I swear to God, I will kill her.”
The two men held their ground as the deputy guarding the door finally woke up and peeked inside to check out all the commotion. Michelle gave her sister’s head a violent twist and finally Kim ceased thrashing around. The knife was just barely in view from where Michelle held it under the forearm securing Kim’s head.
Brendan shook his head in disgust. “How did I not realize this before?”
“Because you’re not very smart.”
“The guy at Trish’s even called you Jasper.”
“And I had him killed for that.”
Nobody moved for a few precious moments as Brendan weighed his options. Even with Michelle heavily sedated, there was no way to get the blade away from her before she sliced her sister’s neck open.
“So what’s your play here, Jasper?” Norman demanded. “Killing your sister won’t accomplish anything.”
Brendan felt like he’d already had this same argument with another psycho two days before. Michelle started to lose her cool, shrieking out each syllable as she ranted and raved from her bed. “Grant was trying to edge me out of the business! I’m the only reason it worked at all. I’m the one who found Serge. I’m the one who put the whole damn thing together, and Grant had the nerve to push me out?”
Michelle blinked hard a few times and yawned impressively, but her knife stayed concealed under Kim, who remained motionless. Presumably the white sheets would’ve turned red by know if Michelle had already stabbed her sister’s throat. At this point, Brendan noticed a weird clicking sound coming from some of the medical equipment next to Michelle’s bed.
“But I owned Grant,” Michelle insisted drowsily. “He even followed my last little order.”
Her voice dropped off completely as her head gradually tilted to one side. Kim’s head jerked up out of the headlock. A lightning-fast fist to her sister’s face drew out a sharp crack, but Michelle’s blade shot up and dragged under Kim’s retreating forearm.
Brendan immediately jumped in front of Norman. “Don’t shoot!”
“Get out of the way!”
“No, don’t shoot her.” Brendan spread his arms, palms up. “She’s down. She’s not going to hurt anyone.”
“Speak for yourself,” Kim muttered, applying pressure to the long slice traversing almost from her elbow to her wrist.
Norman sighed, but kept his weapon drawn. “Deputy, secure Mrs. Rhodes.”
“Thank you.” Brendan stepped in front of the cop and edged around the bed. Kim immediately collapsed into his arms. “How did you do that?” he asked, genuinely impressed. He examined her arm and determined the scalpel hadn’t penetrated an artery.
“After that thing I told you about, I started taking self-defense classes,” she said weakly, no signs of tears coming. “I never missed a week.”
“I can see that.”
“Plus, I was clicking the hell out of that morphine drip.”
Brendan laughed, despite the serious situation. Kim showed signs of shock and he had to keep her talking. He set her down in a chair and grabbed a blanket hanging over the back of it. Blood soaked the thin fabric as Brendan wrapped her forearm and applied pressure of his own.
“Can someone get a nurse—” Brendan started, but a pair of them plowed through him and quickly disassembled his makeshift bandage. One even took a moment to glare back at him in acute disapproval.
Brendan watched Kim intently as the nurses worked. Her eyes stayed locked on her unconscious sister, whose nose still gushed blood on the previously white sheets. Agent Norman barked commands into his radio while the sheriff’s deputy carefully handcuffed Michelle to the bed and removed the scalpel from reach.
Epilogue
Asphalt hummed loudly under the pickup’s oversized tires. Their only companions on the long, empty stretch of highway consisted of a kettle of vultures circling over some carrion. Brendan didn’t even know why he knew the collective name for vultures, but maybe that was part of his West Texas education.
Kim reached across the center console and put her hand on his forearm. He turned his hand over and grimaced as his right biceps reminded him Grant had shot it a few days before.
After recovering from the initial shock of almost dying at her older sister’s hand, Kim had begged Brendan to take her on a road trip to San Antonio, to get her mind off things. Brendan had readily agreed, maybe a little too quickly for Kim’s tastes. She’d clearly indicated then that they’d sleep in separate beds each night. That was fine, but Brendan wasn’t sure that would last long. They’d been inseparable since the collapse of the Jasper drug ring, taking solace in each other’s pain.
The doctors hadn’t kept her in the hospital long. Apparently something as trivial as a six-inch-long knife wound meant little when insurance companies ran the show. They’d stitched her up and left her in the foyer before Brendan had finished eating lunch in the cafeteria.
On their way to the exit, they’d run into Marcus escorting Taryn into the hospital. His sister had wrapped her arms around his neck, and the first thing he’d noticed was the same sour odor from last time, but instead of disgust, he’d only felt pity.
Marcus explained that he’d picked up Serge packing bags for himself and Taryn, and she’d been so out of it that she’d have followed the big bald bastard anywhere. A nurse met them at that point and led Taryn off for a check-up before they decided what kind of treatment she qualified for. Marcus had called ahead and organized the appointment.
Brendan thanked Marcus for helping his sister, and for the text earlier, claiming it had almost saved a life. In truth, all the text said was that Marcus had found Taryn and she was safe, but Grant didn’t know that. After exchanging a brotherly hug, Marcus excused himself and headed back to his office to tackle the mountain of paperwork caused by all the excitement in Shallow Creek.
At that point, finally left alone for more than a few seconds, Kim had asked Brendan to take her the hell away from Shallow Creek. He spent the night sleeping on her couch, but kept his promise now as they sped away from the small town.