Page 49

Quaid

I t took a fraction of a fraction of a second to survey the situation and determine what we were up against. My brain registered details in order of importance.

What weapons were in play? Where was the child?

Who had the upper hand? Overlaid on top of that was the layout of the room and how best to situate myself.

Costa veered left around Nixon to get sights on Flynn, who held Crowley in front of him like a shield, a switchblade at his throat. The eerie calm in his eyes when Costa shouted, “Don’t move, or I’ll blow your fucking brains out,” was unnerving.

Flynn smiled, oily, slick, and ugly. The act of a supportive and concerned brother was gone. It had never been real.

Every image was painted clearly across my retinas as I barreled into the room behind Costa and went in the opposite direction, training my weapon on Nixon, who was also armed.

He pointed a gun at his brother, tears streaming down his cheeks, arms shaking so badly, he couldn’t have hit the broad side of a barn wall if he was directly in front of it .

“Nixon.” I used the calmest tone I could muster even when the situation turned my insides into liquid. “You don’t want to do that. What if you hit Crow?”

“He stole my wife.”

“She was never yours,” Flynn said mockingly. “Genie has always been mine, and if I could have offered her more security, she would have married me instead.”

“Shut up.” Costa moved closer. “Let the boy go, and we can work things out.”

“There’s nothing to work out. The boy belongs to me. Where I go, he goes, even if it’s straight to hell.” He wrenched Crowley’s head back, pressing the blade hard enough it indented his skin.

The terror in Crow’s eyes was palpable, and Nixon stepped forward, spitting, “Stop it, or I’ll fucking shoot you.”

“Dad, don’t.”

Nixon’s chin quivered as he peered at his son.

“Listen to him, Nixon.” I inched closer. “You don’t want to do this.”

“My entire life is a lie. My wife is cheating on me. My brother, who I thought was my best friend, has been manipulating me for years. Lying to my face. My father is stealing from my business to cover for him. And my son… my baby boy isn’t…

” The tears fell in place of words, but he didn’t lower his arm.

“Nixon.” I kept my weapon trained on him. “Listen to me. Let me tell you how this will play out if you pull that trigger. I have sworn an oath to protect citizens. In the event that you discharge that weapon, I will be forced to discharge mine. You will be considered armed and dangerous.

“I will not kill you, but I will disable you, disarm you, arrest you, and see you put behind bars for murder for the rest of your life. If you get lucky and only manage to hit Flynn, you will need to live with the consequences of killing your brother.”

“I don’t care about him.”

“Maybe not, but Flynn may or may not have time to hurt Crowley in the process. You don’t want that. Worse, chances are, you will not hit Flynn at all, and you will shoot your son instead.”

“He’s not my—”

“Yes,” I interrupted, “he is your son. DNA means nothing. Family is created by forming loving bonds with people. You have raised that boy from infancy. You have loved him every single day since he took his first breath. You do not want to be responsible for his last because I can tell you right now. You will never forgive yourself.”

From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Flynn, who stared steadily at Nixon, waiting. Crowley cried silently. Costa was a bomb set to explode if Flynn so much as flinched. I felt more confident about his aim, but even so, Crowley was in a precarious position.

“What about your other children? What about Sparrow? You have a new baby now. Did you know he was born? I heard you named him Robin.”

“He’s here?”

“Yes.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’ll be in the NICU for a while, but the nurse said he was doing well.

A little over three pounds. Don’t you want to see your children grow up?

Don’t you want to be part of their lives?

That won’t happen if you’re behind bars.

Put the gun down, Nixon. Let’s handle this without bloodshed.

Flynn’s already going to prison for kidnapping.

Let us handle the consequences of his actions. You aren’t this person.”

Nixon unraveled at the seams. I could imagine the fraying stitches that held him together, popping one by one, his raw emotions spilling from within and puddling on the floor.

The tension in Nixon’s arms slackened, and he lowered them.

Bending shakily at the knee, he placed the weapon on the ground but didn’t release it.

I was about to instruct him to rise when, still on his knees and grasping the gun, he met his brother’s eyes. “Let me have Crow first.”

“Nixon, let go of the weapon.” I shuffled closer, aiming to kick it out of reach the second he let go, but he didn’t. “Nixon, stand up and back away from the gun.”

I registered the twitch of muscles along Nixon’s forearms and watched his fingers loosen around the weapon, but before I could react, the silent standoff exploded.

Costa shouted a warning as Nixon dove at Flynn, leaving the gun abandoned on the floor. I threw my body at the moving projectile that was Nixon Davis, and we crashed to the floor, tumbling and rolling over one another with the momentum.

A child screamed before I could right myself.

“Quaid, watch out!” Costa’s words were the last thing I heard before a gun went off.