Page 118 of The Fallen Man

“Why are you even upset? You hated Granger. What do you care what happens to his kid? She’s a fucking waitress or someshit now. She’s not even smart enough to do anything with her father’s papers. She fundamentally doesn’t matter. People like her aren’t worth thinking about.”

Jackson had been worried. He’d faced a couple of guns before, and he didn’t like doing it. There was always a chance for things to go badly. But it was as if Houge’s words solidified something inside him. His fingertips felt cold, but he could feel a trickle of sweat run down his spine. He wanted to crush Houge’s skull.

There was a sharp ding, and the elevator opened. A bellhop with a luggage trolley trundled out into the hall, startling Houge, who swung the gun toward the young woman in the red Hilton vest.

“Holy shit!” yelped the bellhop and jumped back in the elevator but managed to shove the cart at Houge. Jackson crashed into Houge just as the gun went off. The sound was deafening in the enclosed space of the hallway. Houge staggered backward, managing to keep his feet under him. Jackson clamped his hand over the top of the gun and felt the slide rack back and pinch into his hand as Houge pulled the trigger for a second time. That would hurt later.

Jackson slammed Houge’s hand against the trolley and wrenched the gun away. Houge yelled angrily and punched at him. Jackson shook off the punch, grabbed Houge by the throat, and headbutted him. Houge’s nose fractured and began to gush blood. Jackson punched Houge with his free hand even though it still held the gun. That would just add extra weight to the hit.

Houge staggered and went down on one knee. Jackson hit him again, watching in satisfaction as the skin split at the eye bone.

He grabbed Houge by his artfully tousled hair and punched him. Houge’s head rocked back. Jackson didn’t think he was conscious, but there was something left, and he planned on taking everything.

“She matters more than you,” hissed Jackson and raised hishand again.

“Jackson!” Evan’s voice was crisp, loud, and carried the authoritative weight of someone who was used to being obeyed.

Jackson looked up in surprise. The bellhop was huddled in the elevator, frantically pushing buttons, but Evan had come up the stairs.

“That’s enough,” said Evan. That was it. No fancy speeches. Justthat’s enough.

Jackson looked back down at Houge and let go of his hair.

Houge collapsed onto the ground, and Jackson lashed out with a final kick to the man’s ribs.

“Now it’s enough,” said Jackson.

“Holy shit,” said the bellhop again, and then the elevator door finally closed.

Evan ran a hand through his hair and looked around.

“We’ve really got to get better at not scaring the shit out of hotel personnel.”

“I think you meant to sayIneed to,” said Jackson.

“I was trying not to. Nowitsky is on his way. Apparently, Houge’s office called Baranov’s phone when they couldn’t get ahold of him. And then they confirmed that the two were together at the time of the assault, so…”

Jackson laughed and found his hand unconsciously echoing the gesture Evan had just made, his fingers ruffling through his hair, trying to push it back out of his eyes.

“I wasn’t going to kill him.”

“I didn’t think you were,” said Evan. Jackson thought that was probably a lie, but Jackson still appreciated it.

“I mean, I wanted to. A little bit. A lot.”

Evan shrugged. “We just need to keep things tidy for Nowitsky. No sense in making a mess.”

“No,” said Jackson laughing and leaning into Evan for a hug. “No, Grandma hates messes.”

“She already called,” said Evan.

“I turned off my phone.”

“That’s why she called. I think she’s having a panic attack. I told her to call Dominique.”

Jackson sighed and straightened up. “I really did make a mess of this.”

“Nah,” said Evan grinning. “Not by Deveraux standards anyway. We’ll come through OK. I promise.”