LUCAS FROZE. What the actual fuck? “Jacko. What the hell are you doing?”
Jacko shook his head and waved the gun at Owen. “Get in the car.”
“He’s not going anywhere.” Lucas released his hold on Owen, taking a step in front of him.
“Don’t think I won’t shoot, Lucas.” Jacko’s fingers tightened on the grip.
Options flashed through Lucas’s brain, but this was his friend. It made no sense. “Jacko, what’s going on, buddy?”
Jacko sneered. “Buddy? What’s that? A dollar’s worth of Psych 101?”
“No,” Lucas replied evenly. “It’s what I always call you.” He wanted to look at Owen to reassure himself, but he kept his gaze on Jacko.
Jacko sighed. “You should have stayed with Mark. It would have saved you all this.”
“All what?” Lucas asked. “Jacko, whatever mess you’re in, we can sort it out.”
Jacko shook his head.
“We’ve had each other’s backs for nearly eight years. Let me help you.”
“Yeah?” Jacko replied bitterly. “You got a spare two hundred grand you can give me?”
“What?” Lucas yelled. “Two hundred thousand dollars. What do you—” Then a memory of Jacko’s card being declined at the store shot through him.
“It was embarrassing when Chris’s mom had to pay for the groceries,” Jacko agreed, seeing the understanding dawn on him. “It was even more embarrassing that you saw it.”
“Why do you need the money?” Lucas asked in a quieter voice. He understood Jacko must be broke, but money problems didn’t turn people into killers.
“Do you have any idea how desperate Chris is for a baby? I promised her. I promised her the money for IVF.”
Lucas shook his head in bewilderment. “Which is nothing like two hundred K. It’s what—ten, fifteen a go?”
Jacko leaned back against the car, but he didn’t lower the gun. Then another awful thought occurred to Lucas. “But you didn’t even have the money for the first time, right?”
“Yes,” Jacko said belligerently. “I saved all my overtime. Worked every hour I could. I thought I would get the lieutenant’s post, but what did Cassidy do? He saved it for you,” he spat.
He was right. Cassidy had left it open, because at the time, Lucas was a mess. He’d never thought about someone else being denied the chance. “If you had the money, then why—”
“Because once isn’t usually enough,” Jacko yelled. “It takes four, five tries sometimes. Where the hell was I supposed to get that sort of cash?”
“You could have asked me, for starters,” Lucas snapped.
“That was how I met Damien,” Jacko whispered, as if Lucas hadn’t spoken. “Uncle G used to go to the club with his buddies all the time. He was always asking me to go, but I never had the cash for that sort of stake.”
And suddenly, understanding rocked through Lucas. “You tried to win it at poker.” It made a sick kind of sense.
“Uncle G was always rolling in it, and he started giving me tips. They had a game set up with entry stakes, and he asked me.” Jacko sounded lost.
“Your uncle played at the club. I never saw you, but there was a back way in for people who didn’t want people to know they were there,” Owen said.
Lucas gazed at Jacko. “Is that true?”
“I started going regularly. I was winning big-time. I even had the money for four treatments in the bag.” He stopped.
“Then you lost,” Lucas said flatly. “Did he lend you money to continue?”
Jacko didn’t answer, but then he didn’t need to.
“But your dad.”
Jacko glanced at Lucas in disbelief. “My old man? That bastard wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire.”
“So he doesn’t know?”
Jacko shook his head. “To say he doesn’t approve of gambling is putting it mildly.”
Lucas was silent for a few seconds. “I have twenty grand, and I can easily borrow some. Why—”
“It’s too late.”
“For what? You can’t throw your life away for a paltry two hundred grand. We’ve been in life-and-death situations together nearly every day for fuck knows how long. Money is nothing. We can get that.” He glanced at Owen. “But what you’re doing now is threatening a federal witness, and that’s a whole different ball game.”
Jacko shook his head. “You don’t understand.” He straightened up, firming his grip on the gun.
“Then make me understand,” Lucas pleaded. “Christine will forgive you, Jacko. You were just trying to get her the baby she wants. What you both want. And you have the chance to train as an arson investigator. That’s much better pay. Please don’t throw it all away.”
“Training? I don’t need training. Who needs training to investigate arson when they have a natural aptitude?” Jacko scoffed, but the words sounded hollow.
Lucas narrowed his eyes. Natural aptitude to investigate fire? No. Lucas felt the color drain from his face. He prayed Jacko didn’t mean what it sounded like. Not a natural aptitude to investigate arson, but to commit it in the first place? Somehow the conversation had just shifted. The threatening edge to Jacko’s voice was now threaded with resignation—as if he’d accepted his behavior, which was far more dangerous than being scared.
“I thought I might do better somewhere else, so I started to go to some private games.” He gazed bleakly at Lucas. “I’m gonna lose the house. She loves that house, Lucas. She ain’t never gonna forgive me for that.”
Lucas shook his head. “She will, she—”
“It isn’t just money,” Jacko continued, as if Lucas hadn’t said anything. “I got asked for a favor, some professional advice to halve the debt.” His lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. “And twenty people died.”
Everything was silent. The wind whipped up a little snow, and it suddenly seemed much colder.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Lucas wasn’t sure he had heard properly.
“I didn’t know.” Jacko’s voice cracked, his eyes pleading for understanding. “He needed advice on how to burn a warehouse quickly. He needed someone that knew how to stage it. He told me he had evidence he needed to get rid of.”
Nausea churned in Lucas’s gut as the nightmare coalesced into reality.
“I thought it was drugs,” Jacko exclaimed. “Paperwork, even.” Jacko’s chest heaved. “I even arranged it so I would respond in case something went wrong.”
Owen made a strangled sound and glanced in horror at Lucas. He’d worked it out as well.
“There were five kids. Five dead kids. And the fire hadn’t even touched them. It had been smoke.” Tears pooled in Jacko’s eyes, but he didn’t lower the gun. “I didn’t know. But as soon as I realized what I’d done, I went to Damien. I was furious and told him I was going to the cops.” No one said a word for a few seconds.
“And Damien laughed,” Jacko continued. “He laughed and said he had people who would swear they had heard I threatened it in retaliation for the money. And he had the proof about the money. I dropped my first winnings into a separate account, and he’d found out about it. And I had no way of accounting for suddenly getting forty grand. So I became his. Damien said jump, and I did it. There have been other fires since then. Not as big. One was an insurance thing I had to make credible, and the other was a threat. And then a few small ones to make the whole thing look careless. No more people,” he added, as if that made it better.
“It’s been you all this time?” Lucas said. “You’re the one who’s been trying to cover up the bigger stuff by making it look like we had a crazy.”
Jacko didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. “So I’m stuck… which means you all are too.”
“And this is how you want to live?” Lucas asked with sickening clarity.
Jacko shook his head. “He’s my way out.” He waved the gun at Owen.
“Fuck that,” Lucas snapped. “You have a huge bargaining chip. The Feds are desperate to take Malvetti down. I bet you could—”
Jacko laughed. “You mean negotiate? Maybe just do five life sentences instead of ten? And that’s assuming I didn’t get the needle?”
Lucas rubbed his eyes. What a fucking mess. What a fucking waste. “If you don’t stop now, this will be your life, Jacko. You really want to live like this? And what happens when Christine gets pregnant?”
Jacko shook his head. “No,” he agreed. “He said if I delivered the kid, it would all be over.”
“And you believe him?” Owen asked.
Jacko didn’t answer.
Owen glanced at Lucas. “That makes no sense.”
You’re not kidding. But he managed not to say it out loud.
Owen shook his head. “No, it really makes no sense. He doesn’t like Mia. He was never interested in her, whatsoever. It was always about keeping me in line. Control. I don’t understand why he suddenly wants her back.”
Jacko clasped the gun in both hands. “Owen, get in the car. If you don’t, I will put a bullet in your daughter, right after I shoot Lucas.”
“But you will have to do that anyway, won’t you, Jacko? You can’t let me live, now that I know.” And there went the eight years they had fought fires together, side by side, gone in an instant like the smoke they’d battled. Jacko had just crossed a line. “Don’t make this worse.”
“Worse than what?” Jacko scoffed, but his hand shook.
Jacko was right. Whatever he did now couldn’t be worse than murdering twenty people. Than— “Jacko?” Lucas’s head shot up as something just occurred to him. “You said you arranged to be working so you would get the call… which means we were just coming off a twenty-four. No one found any timers, which is why they couldn’t pin it down to arson and blamed vagrants or crackheads. There is no way you could have set a fire that would have gone off at 3:00 a.m. when you’d been working since 9:00 a.m. the day before. Our shifts haven’t changed since I started working there. It would have been impossible.”
Jacko shook his head. “I said I told them how. Showed them the combustible. I didn’t say I was actually there.”
Lucas nodded, a glimmer of hope starting in his chest. “Then what makes you think you are gonna go down for murder? You just need a good attorney. The IVF. You were desperate for a baby. You’re a firefighter with a spotless record, and you were blackmailed by a mob boss who has killed a lot of people.” He swallowed. “Jacko, the Feds would give their right arm for the information you have. I’d bet anything you won’t even end up doing time.” Lucas could see Jacko trying to work it out. Maybe they had a chance.
“And what about the other fires?” Jacko challenged. “I definitely set them.”
“And nobody died,” Lucas reminded him.
Jacko dropped his gaze a second before Lucas saw the truth in them. Other people had died, and Jacko had lied to him. Jacko tightened his grip on the gun and waved it at Owen. “Get in the car.”
“You going to kill me, then? I’m assuming unknown assailants were going to ambush your car on the way there?” Lucas asked, knowing Jacko couldn’t leave him as a witness. Reporting an attack by Malvetti’s men would be easy if the only person left alive was a seven-month-old baby who couldn’t ever tell anyone who had really killed her daddy, especially after the attack at Lucas’s house.
How could he have been so wrong? How had he missed it?
Owen shot a defeated look at Lucas. An apology. Then Jacko suddenly seemed out of patience and grabbed for Mia, as if he was going to wrench her out of Owen’s arms. Mia shrieked in fear, and Bailey lunged, barking.
“Call off the dog,” Jacko warned, and Mia, not liking the noise, burst into tears. Bailey leaped for Jacko, teeth snapping, lips curled.
The gunshot stunned Lucas, but the yelp as Bailey hit the ground broke his heart. “Bailey!” Owen cried out. Jacko faltered, seeming as stunned as everyone else, and Lucas reacted. He flew at Jacko and tackled him hard, going down in a tangle of arms and legs. He fought like his life depended on it. He was strong, but so was Jacko, and pain sliced through his side. His fingers connected with cold metal, and—
The second shot was even louder than the first.
He waited for the pain. To react. To take one last gasp or to take none. Lucas grunted and pushed a completely limp Jacko off him. He sat up, not wanting to believe what he was going to see, and heaved a shuddering breath. Jacko—eyes wide open—blood spreading all over his jacket from the hole in his chest, would never take another one.
“Bring him here,” Mark yelled in frustration from the cabin door. Lucas leaned down and put two fingers on Jacko’s neck, but he knew there would be no heartbeat. He glanced at Mark and shook his head, then climbed to his feet and took off his jacket.
He draped it over the still form of the man who had once been his best friend. He picked up the gun from the ground and tucked it into the back of his waistband.
“Lucas?” Owen asked, his voice frantically trying to hush Mia. Lucas rushed over to where the dog was lying, as still as Jacko. He carefully gathered Bailey up and hurried to the cabin. Mark nodded to the kitchen table, and Lucas laid him down. He pulled the gun from his waistband and tossed it onto the sofa with disgust.
“Go,” Mark ordered desperately, trying to staunch the blood with towels. “There’s a dead man outside, and it could have been you. You need to call Agent Gallagher, and you need to do it now.”
Lucas grabbed for the phone, but he fumbled it. He tried a second time and dialed the number Mark rattled off.
“Who is this?” a voice asked urgently.
He put the phone on speaker. “This is Lucas Attiker, Mark’s—”
“Are you with Owen Michaels and his daughter?” Gallagher interrupted. Owen met his gaze. It answered the question of whether Gallagher was involved.
“Yes.”
“And are you okay?”
No. I killed someone. His best friend. “Yes.”
“Where—”
“Mark says I can trust you.” It was Lucas’s turn to interrupt.
He heard a low laugh. “Yeah? Well. What I actually think he said was that my wife would wash my mouth out with bleach if there was any dirt on me.”
Lucas glanced at Owen, but Owen was tearing dressing packs open with one hand. It was too normal. Gallagher sounded too normal. He was even trying to make a joke, and Lucas glanced down at the phone, at his hand—smeared with blood. Except it didn’t feel like his hand. It didn’t feel like him at all. “Jacko is dead.” There was a pause.
“Jacko?”
“Jackson Keefer. He came ostensibly to take us to his uncle Gerald in the DPP, but he’s working for Malvetti. I think they both are… were.” He heard hurried words in the background and looked over to the table where Mark was working on Bailey. Mark was trying to save a life, and Lucas had ended one.
“We’re on our way.” Gallagher was back on the line. “This guy isn’t messing around.”
“No,” Lucas replied. Killing someone had made him realize that.
“We’ll be there in ten minutes, possibly five.”
“Minutes?”
“Yeah. We spoke to your friend, and he confirmed the whereabouts of his cabin, only it was empty. We were just leaving.”
Lucas had never thought of that. “Do you need our address?”
“No,” Gallagher said. “I have your location. I’d rather not involve the locals, but they may be able to get to you faster.”
Lucas raised two eyebrows at Owen.
Owen shook his head. “There are already three dead marshals. I don’t want to risk anyone else.”
“Two,” Gallagher said. “O’Connor had surgery. DuPree took two rounds in the shoulder, but she’s okay.”
Lucas watched the relief appear on Owen’s face.
“Make sure you’re ready. Travel light. Whatever you need for the child, we will buy. Mark?”
“I’m busy,” Mark answered, not looking up from Bailey.
“You’re coming too,” Gallagher said, “so finish up.” Then he disconnected the call.
“How is he?” Lucas asked, but Mark didn’t answer. Then again, maybe that was his answer, and he just didn’t want to say.
Lucas looked around the room. He should move, get the stuff from Jacko’s car, but then he’d have to go outside. Suddenly, he heard a noise from outside, and he knew it was way too soon for the marshals. And there was no way it was a delivery truck. It sounded like a big powerful engine, and Owen paused. He’d obviously heard it as well.
“Get the hell out of here,” Mark roared, and because he had no choice, Lucas grabbed hold of Owen and hustled them out the door. They had only seconds to get to Jacko’s car, and they were just a fraction too late.
A large black Escalade followed by a Lexus pulled into the yard.
“It’s Damien,” Owen whispered. But Lucas didn’t need the confirmation.
EVERYTHING SUDDENLY seemed very quiet to Owen. Even the noise of the doors opening and the men spilling out of the cars was muted. He wondered if it would be louder when the gunfire started. He wondered if it would hurt. Lucas swore as they were surrounded, and he had his arms pinned behind him by one of Malvetti’s goons.
Owen glanced up and took in the arrogant tilt of the manscaped jaw of the man who stood in front of him, the bronzed skin and dark brown, almost black eyes, the pristine white shirt, and the suit that he knew cost thousands of dollars.
Damien gazed at him for a long moment before he turned his attention to Lucas. “It would have been so much simpler if you had simply handed him over the last time we spoke.” He didn’t wait for a reply, just gestured to Paulo, who ran over to Jacko’s body and lifted Lucas’s jacket. He dropped it and hurried over to Damien and whispered something to him.
Damien looked at Lucas. “You shot Keefer?”
Lucas nodded curtly. “He gave me no choice.”
Damien shrugged as if in agreement. “He was a fool.”
Owen saw Lucas’s jaw tighten, and he managed to look threatening even while restrained. “I’m also the man who saved your daughter’s life.” Owen wanted to object to Mia being referred to as Damien’s daughter, but he knew Lucas was saying it for a reason. Unfortunately, he didn’t think Damien cared.
He glanced at Owen but didn’t say anything to him.
“And am I supposed to be suitably grateful?”
Lucas shrugged.
Damien’s eyes strayed to the cabin. “Who’s in there?”
“A disabled man. He’s in a wheelchair and is no threat to you.”
Damien smiled. “Your brother.” He nodded to Saul, who jogged to the cabin.
“Neither of them are any threat to you,” Owen implored.
“I think you’ve just insulted a firefighter,” Damien mused. “From what Jacko told me, they consider themselves bad-asses. I mean—” Damien paused for dramatic effect. “—this man was willing to shoot a friend to defend people not able to do it themselves.”
“I shot Keefer before he could shoot me,” Lucas snapped. “I understand he was in a jam. Wives cost. Mine sure as fuck did, but loyalty’s loyalty. He made a mistake thinking it didn’t count.”
Owen stared in confusion at Lucas for a second, wondering at his harsh words, but Lucas kept his eyes on Damien. What? Then Owen understood. His wife. He was trying to put himself on the same footing as Jacko.
And Damien didn’t know about them. He glanced back at Damien, but Damien’s face was devoid of expression. Not that it would fool Owen.
“I admire loyalty,” Damien continued conversationally. Owen’s eyes widened. Was Damien going to fall for it?
The gunshot from the cabin was loud.
“No.” Lucas reacted in fury, but Damien’s men held him firmly. The injustice, the outrage was etched in every line of Lucas’s body. Owen squeezed his eyes shut and curled over Mia. Mark.
“Owen?” Damien demanded Owen’s attention, and he looked up. Satisfaction, triumph, and something else glittered in Damien’s ugly dark eyes, and then he simply held out his hand. “We need to leave. I have a plane waiting.” He looked up at the gray sky. “This country is far too cold, anyway.”
Owen’s breath caught in his chest, and Paulo raised his gun toward Lucas. “He saved Mia’s life. We would have both burned to death.”
Damien paused, a smile playing on his lips. “Are you saying I owe him something?”
Owen nodded but didn’t dare look at Lucas. Damien glanced back at the cabin, obviously wondering why Saul hadn’t come out. He gestured to the other man who wasn’t holding Lucas, and the man obediently jogged to the cabin. He put his hand on the door handle just as it opened and a gun fired. The man jerked hard and flew backward. Paulo let go of Lucas and ducked behind the car at the same time Damien did. Owen scrambled to move, desperate to get himself and Mia to safety, just as a cruel hand grabbed his arm.
“Not so fast,” Damien growled and yanked Owen and Mia in front of him.
They could hear the squeal of tires and an engine revving up the lane. Owen froze, petrified for Mia as Malvetti’s men turned at the noise, and two large Explorers nearly skidded to a halt in a flurry of snow. Men poured out, all raising guns.
“Stop or I put a bullet in him.”
Silence. Even Mia was quiet. No one moved. He felt the cold metal push against his temple. Terror tasted acrid on his tongue.
“Owen?”
Owen jerked. Lucas. Lucas had stood up, his arms raised in surrender, and what seemed like every gun was pointing at him. He heard the incredulous mutter behind him, but Damien didn’t drop the gun. “What exactly do you think you are going to do?” Damien scoffed and took a step back, dragging Owen with him toward the open Lexus. If Damien got to the car, it would be game over. Too late for him and too late for Mia. He didn’t even want to think about her in Damien’s hands, if she lasted that long. He scanned the agents in front of him, and saw the frustration on every face. There wasn’t one of them who would shoot while he held Mia. Damien had an effective shield.
Damien took another backward step, the gun pressed to Owen’s temple all the incentive he needed to do exactly as Damien wanted.
“The station told me you had been in touch, wanting to sponsor the charity open house,” Lucas said completely out of the blue. Damien muttered, “Imbecile,” and took another step back. Lucas took one forward, away from the car, away from safety, and Owen saw the questioning look Paulo sent his boss. No, they would shoot. As soon as Damien got to the car, he would order Lucas killed, and Lucas would die. He didn’t even have a gun.
“It’s usually a good day. Lots of children, families. We usually put on a show. Do you remember, Owen? How I told you Jacko and I put on a show?”
“Stronzo,” Damien muttered. “Why should I care—”
“Fire!” Lucas screamed, and Owen, who had been ready as soon as everyone thought Lucas had lost his mind and mentioned Jacko, simply dropped. An explosion of gunfire ripped over his head as he curled protectively over Mia.
And then just as suddenly as it had started, the gunfire stopped.
Owen didn’t dare even breathe, but shouts of “Clear” went up, and strong arms helped Owen to his feet. He opened his mouth to say something, but all of a sudden, there seemed to be too many people around. An ambulance rolled into the yard, and EMTs jumped out.
And Lucas turned and ran to the cabin. Owen tried to see what was happening and took a step, only to be ambushed by EMTs. He got a glimpse of at least four bodies on the ground, and then Mia was taken from him, and he was bustled into the ambulance before he even got a chance to say a word.