Erica Spindler - Dead Run

“Amusing, Mr. Wells.” Heather crossed to the altar. She bent and retrieved a length of rope from a large black plastic bag at her feet. She tossed it to Val.

“You make a good lapdog, Val,” Rick said. “Valentine Lopez, Lieutenant Detective Lapdog. Nice. You must be very proud of the way you’ve bettered yourself.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Val snapped, yanking Liz’s arms behind her back. He jerked hard on the rope; Liz cried out. “Unless you want me to cut off her circulation?”

Rick backed down. Val finished knotting the rope. “What about her ankles?”

“Let’s live dangerously.” Heather motioned him. “Bring her to me.”

Val pushed her toward Heather. Liz screamed in terror as she stumbled forward.

Rick lunged. Val turned the six-inch barrel on Liz. “Think again, Wells.”

He backed off, heart pounding. “Leave her be.”

Val laughed. “You’re such a Boy Scout, Rick. You always have been. It’s sickening. By the rules, the good little public servant.”

“Better than being her servant.”

“You think so?” He circled Rick, the light in his eyes too bright. “You haven’t a clue the riches afforded a man in my position. Heather taught me. Play to people’s needs, their innate weaknesses. To their fears. And they will give you everything and anything you desire. Money. Power. Respect. They’ll bow down, Rick. Anybody ever bow down to you? Here’s a tip, asshole. It’s damn nice.” He tipped his head back and shouted at the heavens. “I’m the man! King of Key West!”

“Here’s the tip, asshole, ” Rick retorted. “You’re nothing. A common criminal who’ll end up roommate and boyfriend to some guy named Bubba.”

Val’s face went white with rage. His hand began to shake. “Easy to be sanctimonious when everything’s been laid at your feet. Your rich daddy and mommy…anything you ever wanted, they gave to you. You only had to point and it was yours.”

Rick shook his head. “All of this, was it just about money, Val? About jealousy?”

“You shouldn’t have come back, Rick. You should have stayed in Miami. Safe. Sam would have been safe.”

Rick went cold. The other man continued. “But nothing would do but you had to come back to my island. Here, where everything was going so well for me.”

“If you didn’t want me here, why’d you offer me a job, Val? You acted so eager-”

“Because you talked to the chief! For Christ’s sake, what was I supposed to say to him? A big-city hotshot like you wanting on the Key West force, the man practically wet himself at the thought.

“I knew you’d never go for my and Heather’s version of law and order. You were too moral. Too self-righteous. And too goddamned smart. I needed to get rid of you quickly. So I arranged that break-in.”

The breath left his body. Rick took a step backward. Val arranged the break-in? “Those two coked-up pieces of human refuse, you sent them to my home? Where my child slept?”

“But it didn’t go according to plan. Always the cowboy, you decided to take them out all by yourself.” Val lowered his voice. “I didn’t mean for Sam to die. But it happened. So I used it to my advantage.”

He faced Rick, expression triumphant. “I switched the ballistics report so you believed you had killed your own son.”

A sound passed Rick’s lips. Primal. A terrible howl of pain and fury.

“That’s right, buddy, your bullet didn’t kill him.”

Rick sank to his knees, doubling over, the pain too great to bear. Val, who he had trusted completely, had betrayed him. Val, who he had thought of as a brother, was responsible for the incident that had taken Sam. He squeezed his eyes shut, his head filling with the memory of that night. Of holding his precious boy as his life ran out of him.

“You can’t imagine how I enjoyed watching you suffer. The way I suffered, Rick. Watching you get everything I wanted. Including Jill. She was supposed to be mine. Mine!”

He growled the last. “This island and everything on it should belong to me. My people, my ancestors settled her. We fed and developed her. Yet people like you come down here and take it all-enjoy all her riches while we catch your fish, scrub your toilets and serve your food.”

Val began to laugh, the sound high and wild. “Not anymore, my friend. Not anymore!”

Rick lifted his gaze to the crucifix mounted behind the altar, his vision blurred by tears. The sixteen-foot-tall cross was rough-hewn, as the real one must have been; the carved depiction of Christ beautifully rendered, showing his very human suffering.

Rick’s vision shifted, moving past the crucified Christ to the stained-glass window behind it. Circular, at least twenty feet in diameter, it depicted the risen King, glorious and triumphant.

It wasn’t over. Adrenaline surged through him. His vision cleared. He wouldn’t give up and let this piece of shit win. Not ever.

He shifted his gaze to Liz. She met his eyes. She understood his intention-if necessary, he would give his life trying to save them. Trying to bring Valentine down.

Rick straightened. “I loved you, Val. You were my brother. My friend.”

“Go to hell.”

He was already there. With a roar, he charged Val. He caught him by surprise and sent them both sprawling. The gun flew from Val’s hand. Rick used his height and weight advantage and pinned Val beneath him. He drew back and sent his handcuffed wrists crashing into Val’s handsome face.

The man howled. Blood spurted from his nose. Rick rolled sideways, scrambling for the gun. He closed his fingers around the grip.

As he did he heard the unmistakable sound of a cylinder clicking into place. He looked over his shoulder. Heather had Liz from behind, gun to her temple.

“You have a choice,” she murmured. “What’s it going to be?”

Rick curled his fingers around the gun’s grip, the feel of it nestled in his palms both familiar and foreign. He squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of Sam. And Liz. Assessing their options. He could take one of them out, maybe both of them.

But Liz would die. That was a given.

He couldn’t do it.

“Noble,” Heather murmured as he dropped the gun, amusement coloring her tone. “But stupid. Get to your feet, Wells. Now.”

Wednesday, November 21

11:25 p.m.

Liz watched as Rick got slowly to his feet. Val snatched up the gun and crossed to Rick. Blood streamed from his nose and mouth. He brought the gun up and pressed the barrel between Rick’s eyes. He cocked it. Liz saw that he trembled with fury.

“Go ahead,” Rick taunted. “Pull the trigger. I dare you.”

“Don’t push me, Wells. I’ll do it, I swear I’ll-”

“Go for it, you prick! Make my day!”

“No!” Liz cried. “Don’t!”

Heather tipped her head back and laughed, the sound almost childlike in its glee. It was as if she fed on the negativity, the fear and hatred, the bloodshed.

“Admirable, Liz,” she murmured. “Loyalty. Love. Commitment. I’m touched, really.”

Heather turned to the two men. “Make sure that doesn’t happen again, Valentine.”

“Throw me some rope,” the man responded tightly. “I’ll make sure this prick doesn’t move a muscle.”

Heather did as he requested, then turned her attention back to Liz. “I wonder if your boyfriend here would do the same for you? Cry out, get down on his knees and beg for your life to be spared. I wonder if your beloved sister would?”

Heather looked over at Rachel, slumped in the chair. “Liz is in this situation because of you, Rachel. Because she loves you so much.” She all but hissed the last and a chill raced up Liz’s spine. “She’s here because of your ridiculous faith in Him.”