"It was you." The words came as a snarl, an animal roar. His mind screamed at him to stop, to slow down, but his anger had control. "Motherfucker." He started to lunge from his chair, willing to give it a shot now, knowing it didn't matter. That there was no deal. No hope.
Something slammed into the base of his neck, at the right-hand side. The whole world went watery. He struggled through it, his legs out of his control and far away, the weight enormous. His body told him it couldn't move. He moved anyway. Moved for Michael, and for Billy. Moved even though it was impossible.
Until DiRisio hit him with another open-hand chop at the other side of his neck, and his legs just gave.
Agony shot through his body, lightning bolts and pyrotechnics, the Fourth of July behind his eyeballs. He felt a hand in his hair, yanking, and then he was falling back into the chair. Landing heavy, his arms flopping useless in front of him.
"Don't kill him." Kent's voice was firm, none of the soft sell he'd been peddling.
"He's fine." DiRisio's voice seemed to echo and warp. "I hit the pressure points behind his carotids. No permanent damage."
Jason closed his eyes, fought for breath and balance. He felt like his center of gravity was doing flips. Gagged and coughed. Struggled. Get control. Do it now, soldier.
Deep breaths. Visions of melting ice, faint blue that washed everything away. That countered the fire in his head.
He opened his eyes. Hate like hundred-proof liquor raged through his veins. "It wasn't Galway in the bar. It was you."
Kent gave him an amused look. "Your brother had evidence that could have derailed everything I'd been working on. It might even have been enough to prosecute me. Me." He shrugged. "A business arrangement that important I'm going to see to personally."
His body rubber, Jason struggled to rise.
"Oh, for Christ's sake." Kent's cool slipping, finally. "Sit down. We can shoot you without giving you your wish."
Jason glared at him, his hands pulling useless at the zip-tie. "My wish?"
"To die." Kent smiled at him. "That's what you want, right? I know all about your discharge from the Army. I know what you've been doing since. And I know that if your nephew hadn't been holding you back, you'd have let yourself get killed already. Well, guess what? Tonight's your lucky night." He buttoned his tux jacket and turned to DiRisio. "Let's end this costume drama, shall we?"
DiRisio jerked his head at Scarface. The man pushed off the wall and padded out the door.
What was this? Something he hadn't anticipated. Then he realized. Cruz. They were going to use Elena against him.
He bit his lip till he tasted blood. All right. It was time to get dying. When she came in, they'd make their play. Go out in a blaze of glory and end this thing before anyone else could get hurt. Frankly, he welcomed it.
But when he looked back, it wasn't Cruz framed in the doorway.
Billy's eyes darted and his skin glowed feverish. He held Washington's hand so tightly both their knuckles were white. The old man wobbled on his feet, a trail of blood running from his temple.
"No." The word slipped from Jason's mouth. His chest felt like it was in a vice, and liquid fire burned in his bowels. "No."
"I'm sorry, son." Washington sounded tired. "They came out of nowhere. Ronald tried to fight, but-" His voice tightened.
"Uncle Jason?" Billy's voice was ribbon thin. "What's happening?"
The trust in his voice tore like fishhooks. Jason stared. His lover and his father and his brother and his nephew, all of whom he'd failed to protect.
Liar. It was worse than that. He hadn't just failed them.
He'd doomed them.
None of this would have been happening if he'd just left well enough alone. If he'd simply gotten the boy out of danger, instead of pretending he was a soldier, chasing the monster in hopes of slaying it. Running from his home may not have been much of a life for Billy, but at least he would have been alive. But now…
He realized that Billy was staring at him. He forced his hands to stop shaking. "It's okay, kiddo. Everything will be okay."
DiRisio chuckled.
"Bring them in." Kent gestured. "The woman, too."
Scarface put a meaty hand against Washington's back and shoved, sending him staggering into the room. Billy clung to his hand, his eyes lasered on Jason's. Scarface followed, a gun held to Cruz's side. The mercenary guided them to a leather couch against the wall. Washington sat stiffly, Billy close beside him. Scarface dumped Cruz on the far side, her arms zip-tied in front of her. Last in the door was Galway, his face drawn and pale.
"Don't do this." Jason said it softly. "Please."
Kent sighed and leaned back. "You know what I want."
Truth time. "I don't have the evidence anymore." Said it fast and sure, staring Kent in the eyes. "We found it in the basement of Michael's bar. But Playboy came after us as we left. They drove our car into the river. We couldn't get the briefcase out in time."
"That's not what you told the alderman."
"I didn't tell him I had it, either. I just sort of hinted at it." He kept his gaze perfectly level. "I wanted to win him over, and I was afraid if I told him the truth, he wouldn't listen."
Kent slowly ran a tongue around the inside of his lip. "You're sure of that?"
"I swear to you." Sweat soaked his body, and his skin felt tight enough to tear.
The fire's flickering light cast dark pits across Kent's eyes. His hands were folded in his lap, one finger tapping a metronome beat as he weighed Jason's words. Finally he shook his head. "I need to be certain." He sighed, then nodded at DiRisio.
The man made the SIG vanish, then reached into the pocket of his tux pants, came out with something. With a flick of his wrist, he snapped a four-inch serrated blade open, then winked at Jason.
Jason closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Michael, I need you. Give me strength. Please. Kent would want him to scream loud and long and tell the same story every time. He couldn't pretend he was somewhere else, couldn't try to think of his body as meat. He would have to embrace the pain, let it push him past his breaking point. It was the only way to make them believe.
But when Jason opened his eyes, DiRisio wasn't leaning over him.
He was by the couch.
With Billy's tiny arm in his hand.