Jason narrowed his eyes. "Okay."

"Okay?"

He remembered Cruz on the river front. "A friend of mine taught me that as long as someone's got a gun on you, the correct answer to anything is 'okay.' "

Kent laughed. "I see your point. But I want your full attention."

"Believe me, man. You've got it."

"Fair enough." Kent glanced over to DiRisio, gave a quick nod. DiRisio made the gun vanish, then left the wall and moved to stand just behind Jason. "Now," Kent continued, "you have something I need."

"You really think I'm going to give up my nephew?"

"Your nephew?" A bemused smile played on Kent's lips. "What would I want with him?"

The skin of Jason's shoulders crawled. "But the gangbangers, and DiRisio-"

"Were all looking for what I wanted." Kent leaned forward. "The papers, Mr. Palmer. All I want are the papers your brother had, the ones you told the alderman about. You give me that, we're done."

Jason stared, fighting to keep a straight face as the gears clicked. Remembering the party, how he'd hedged with the alderman, not explicitly telling him the evidence had been destroyed because he didn't want to shake the guy's trust. The alderman had reported back to Kent, who now believed Jason had his brother's files.

All Kent wanted was something Jason didn't have.

"You're saying that you'll not only let me walk out of here, you'll leave Billy alone?" He put as much scorn into it as possible.

"Absolutely. That's all we've wanted all along," Kent said. "Mr. Palmer, I realize you don't like me, and I understand why. But the truth is that I don't bear you any ill will. For you, this is a personal matter. But for me, it's just business. I'm in the middle of a very complicated financial venture. Your brother got involved when he shouldn't have. He wouldn't listen to reason. I didn't kill him for pleasure any more than I brought you here to show off my evil plan."

"Okay."

"All right. You're hurting and I can't change that. But listen to what I have to say." Kent ran a hand through his hair. "There's no advantage to killing you. Without evidence, there's nothing you can say that could hurt me. Nothing. I have a lot of money, and a lot of people eager to do me favors. What do you have? A history of petty theft and an 'other than honorable' discharge from the Army." He shrugged. "I'm sorry, but you're outmatched. So let's keep it simple. Give me what I want, and I'll give you back your life."

Jason felt sick. Wrong as it was, the man was right. But he also believed Jason had something he didn't.

"Look," Kent said, "this is a one-time opportunity to save the lives of your nephew and your lover. To watch Billy grow up. It's a good offer. Take it."

Jason sat back in his chair, met Kent's eye. The guy looked sincere, but that was like gauging the intentions of a crocodile. Still. Much as Jason wanted to doubt, Kent made sense. They were out of plays. Going to the alderman had been a last-ditch hope. If Kent let them go, there really wasn't anything they could do to hurt him.

Which only made his anger seethe hotter. Just like in the war, the real players were invulnerable. People talked about the immovable object and the unstoppable force. But the real story belonged to the people caught between the two. People like his brother.

" 'A complicated financial venture,' eh?" Jason shook his head. "You realize you're talking about people? You're killing them, burning their homes, ruining their neighborhoods. To make money. Just another rich white guy who can't get enough."

Kent snorted. He stood up, went around the desk, dropped in the chair. "It's not love that moves the world, Mr. Palmer, and the only color that matters is green. Black, white, brown, who gives a shit? It's about rich and poor. I'm very rich, so I win. You can spout coffeehouse crap all you like. But first decide whether you'd prefer to die tonight or to see your nephew grow up."

Think, goddamn you. Think. He looked away. Grit his teeth and tugged at his wrists. The zip-tie was unyielding, and his fingers thick and heavy. Every fiber of his body screamed to fight. To stand and make a move, to throw himself at Kent or DiRisio. He'd lose, but he'd go out fighting. A soldier's death. Not this terrible choice.

Not having to make a deal with the man who murdered his brother.

If he agreed, and Kent was honest, they'd be free. He could watch Billy turn nine, have another porch-lit drink with Washington, explore the thing between him and Cruz. And even if Kent decided to kill him, at least Billy would be safe. With the evidence gone and the witnesses dead, there would be no reason to come after the boy.

Kent spoke softly. "I know you hate me, Mr. Palmer. But you're a smart man. So do what you have to do. Tell me where those papers are." He ran long fingers through his hair, then laced them behind his head.

Sometimes you had to fold the hand. Jason dropped his head, stared at his lap. Forgive me, Michael. I tried. He opened his mouth to speak.

And saw Kent's gesture again. Running his hands through his hair.

"The big one was bald," Billy had said two days ago, sitting in the sunlight of Jason's apartment, telling a story that tore him apart. A story of two men that had come into the bar and killed Michael. One balding and big. The other thin and plain-looking, with black and gray hair.

And he realized that no matter what he said, Kent would never stop hunting his nephew.

DiRisio had been one of the guys in the bar. He'd bragged about it. The other man they had just assumed was Galway.

But Adam Kent's hair was also black flecked with gray.

CHAPTER 45

"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."