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.

CHAPTER 46

Despite the sickness in his legs and the pain sloshing in his head, he fought to his feet. Scarface came off the desk, raising his pistol. Jason didn't care, wouldn't let a little thing like dying stop him now.

Then he saw DiRisio touch the knife to Billy's soft wrist. A tiny motion could open the boy's arm to the bone. Jason stood trembling ten feet away, a gulf that may as well have been an ocean, and watched DiRisio smile at him.

His mind raced and darted. A thousand plans and possibilities stampeded past, none of them enough. He could pick up tiny details, Cruz's awkward posture on the sofa, half up, half down, locked in place the same way he was. Washington's face screwed into a wince, his hands reaching sideways. Billy's eyes bugged white, the tension in his shoulder from the angle DiRisio twisted.

A thin ripple of silver dancing along the ridged blade as it pushed into flesh.

"Stop!"

The voice came from behind, an order that ripped the air. A voice as a weapon, a cop's voice. Galway.

DiRisio froze, the knife just breaking the skin of Billy's arm.

"Stop." Galway spoke again. "Stop this now."

Jason craned his neck back to look at Galway, the weary face with its sagging jowls and stern chin. His suit was rumpled, hair unkempt. He looked a hundred years old. No match for a monster like DiRisio, a trained and eager killer.

The moment hung, delicate and pregnant. Finally, Kent said, "Tom, why don't you go have a cigarette?"

Galway shook his head. "When it was just bangers dying, I could live with it. They would have killed each other anyway. But I never should have let you murder Michael Palmer. And I won't let you do this. Not to a child."

DiRisio's eyes narrowed. "You're going to stop me?"

Everything seemed stuck in amber. Emotions flickered across Galway's face: fear, guilt, responsibility, disgust. Then he drew his gun with a whisper of metal on leather, and said, "I guess I am."

Jason looked over at Cruz, saw her staring at her partner, the tiniest of smiles playing on her lips.

"I understand how you feel," Kent said, voice honey. "This is more than you signed on for. And you know what? No problem. You want out, fine. I'll even give you the bonus we discussed, enough to put your son through grad school. But for now, be reasonable. Turn around, walk out the door."

Galway didn't answer. Just rocked the hammer back and steadied his aim. Scarface held his own gun level on the cop's chest. Jason dared a step forward.

DiRisio's eyes beamed hate like a wave of heat. He looked back and forth between Scarface, Kent, and Galway. Finally, he shook his head and pulled the blade from Billy's arm. Jason let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Okay, Tom." DiRisio straightened. He folded the knife, then slid it into his right pocket, a metal clip holding it in place. His eyes were flat and unreadable as he raised his hands to chest level. "You win." He turned to Scarface. "Drop your gun."

Galway glanced over at the other mercenary. Just a split second. A tiny twitch of his eyes. But in that moment, Jason saw DiRisio gesture with his left hand, a flamboyant sort of wave.

"Look out!" Jason threw himself at Scarface, knowing what was coming.