Julie James - Something about You

She’d said she would run if she heard a gun shot. He had to count on that. He would draw Lombard’s fire and give Cameron a chance to escape. He wouldn’t stop until he reached Lombard, no matter what hit him.

Other men had tried to kill him before. For Cameron’s sake, he was willing to see if this asshole’s luck was any better than the others.

Jack got ready to make his move.

Beads of sweat formed at Lombard’s brow. He called down again, and his voice was strained and anxious. “You’ve got two fucking seconds, Cameron, so either get your ass up here or say good-bye to Jack.”

“Okay! I’m coming,” Cameron shouted up urgently.

But she wasn’t on the landing anymore. There was the faint sound of a door opening—it came from the hallway on the floor beneath them. A hinge squeaked. Something metal rattled.

“She’s getting a goddamn gun,” Lombard hissed.

Fortunately, Jack knew the layout of the house a lot better than Lombard. Not a gun , he thought, realizing precisely what Cameron was up to.

She was fucking brilliant.

The door she had opened, the one closest to the stairs, was her linen closet. And while there wasn’t a gun stashed in there—at least not one that Jack knew about—there was something else that could help them.

The circuit breaker.

Lombard snapped, having had enough. “Fuck you both.” His eyes narrowed in on Jack. Everything happened at once. He pulled the trigger as Jack dove for the ground, knowing what was coming. There was a loud CLICK! from downstairs and—

All the lights in the house went out.

The gun fired in the dark, and the bullet whizzed over Jack’s head. Not wasting a moment, he leapt up and ran for Lombard. Lombard reacted more quickly to the surprise of the darkness than Jack had hoped; he took off into the hallway. Lombard fired wildly behind him, and bullets hit the walls beside Jack. He kept going. Gaining on Lombard right before the stairwell, Jack saw his chance—he dove and tackled Lombard full-force. Grabbing for Lombard’s gun, Jack pushed him backward at the same time, using all his strength to hurtle them toward the wooden banister. Jack braced himself—this was going to hurt—as they slammed against the banister and broke through with a loud crack.

Tangled together, both men plummeted thirty-five feet down the open staircase.

They landed hard on the first-floor foyer. Jack heard the sickening sound of breaking bone as he crashed on top of Lombard, who screamed out in pain.

Jack instinctively lunged for Lombard’s gun, gritting his teeth at the flash of pain in his chest—he must have broken a few ribs. Fighting off a wave of dizziness from the shock of the fall, he pushed away from Lombard, stood up, and pointed the gun at him.

Jack caught his breath and wiped blood off his forehead with his sleeve. One of the bullets had hit the wall so close to his head he’d been cut by a flying piece of plaster.

“Almost had it there, Lombard,” he panted. “Almost.”

Jack heard footsteps above him. He looked up and saw Cameron running down the stairs. Seeing him, she stopped on the landing between the first and second floors and sank against the wall in relief. Jack realized then that he and Lombard must’ve fallen through the stairwell right past her.

With a look of shock, Cameron peered up at the third floor, all thirty-five feet up, then back at him. “My God, Jack.”

She caught sight of Lombard through the moonlight and swallowed. He lay on the floor before Jack with his right leg bent at a grotesque angle beneath him. Breathing heavily, he clutched his right arm to his chest and watched Jack warily.

With all the action, Jack had lost count of how many times Lombard had fired at him. He popped out the clip of the gun to see if it was still loaded. Three rounds left—more than enough. He slammed the clip back in.

He and Lombard had some unfinished business to discuss.

“Go upstairs to your bedroom, Cameron. Don’t come out until I tell you,” Jack said.

She nodded. “Right. I’ll call for backup and an ambulance.”

“Don’t call anyone. Just go upstairs.”

Her eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”

“You don’t need to know. You’re an assistant U.S. attorney—you can’t be a part of this.”

Lombard’s eyes widened nervously.

Cameron hesitated on the landing, and for a moment Jack thought she wasn’t going to listen to him. “Okay,” she finally said. She left, and a few seconds later Jack heard the door to her bedroom shut.

He turned his attention to Lombard, who was sweating profusely as he lay on the floor at his feet.

“When we were upstairs, you talked about the person who told you about Cameron’s involvement in the Robards case. I want to know who it was.”

Lombard coughed, wheezing in pain. “Fuck you, Pallas.”

“You might want to save that for later. I haven’t even gotten started yet.”

“Fuck you anyway.”

Jack squatted down at Lombard’s side. “You’ve been listening to Cameron and me this whole time,” he said quietly.

Lombard tried to laugh, but it came out sounding hollow. “Almost every word. Loved the part where you wouldn’t fuck her after I shot her. You’re as weak as the rest, Pallas. All because of a woman.”

Maybe Lombard saw him as weak because of Cameron, Jack thought.

But tonight she was his greatest strength.

“Since you’ve been listening, you know what she means to me. I would kill anyone who harmed her,” he said with cold simplicity. “Give me a name, and I’ll make an exception.”

Lombard didn’t say anything. But he didn’t look so smug anymore, either.

Jack brought the gun in closer. “You shot her. I watched as you took this very gun and held it under her chin. Like this.” He grabbed Lombard’s jaw and shoved the gun right under his chin. Lombard flinched, breathing heavily through his nose.

Jack pushed the barrel harder, digging into Lombard’s skin. “Give me an excuse to pull this trigger. I want to do it so badly I can taste it.”

“I want a deal,” Lombard blurted out through clenched teeth.

Jack nodded. “I believe you actually mean that this time.” He pressed the gun to Lombard’s forehead. “Here’s the deal: tell me what I want to know, and I won’t have to tell the medical examiner that I shot you between the eyes in self-defense.”

Lombard swallowed hard. He said nothing at first, but Jack saw it in his eyes.

Defeat.

Lombard sagged against the floor and finally gave Jack the answer he’d been waiting for.

“Silas Briggs.”

LESS THAN TEN minutes after Jack called for backup, the house was teaming with people—some in uniforms, some not. He told the paramedics what had happened to Lombard, then spoke briefly to both Wilkins and the cops.

Jack stood side-by-side with Wilkins, watching as the paramedics placed a neck brace onto a handcuffed Lombard and slid a backboard underneath him. He glanced up at Cameron. She’d been sitting on the steps of the landing ever since the cops and FBI had arrived. He sensed she hadn’t wanted to get too close to Lombard as he lay on the floor at the bottom of the staircase. He hoped she wasn’t trying to avoid him as well.

“I’d like a minute alone with Cameron,” Jack said to Wilkins. “Could you see to that?”

Wilkins nodded. “Of course. I’ll make sure everyone stays down here.”

Jack grabbed a blanket the paramedics had brought in, slipped past Lombard on the stairs, and headed up. He knelt down and wrapped the blanket around Cameron’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “No.”

Jack noticed she was trembling. He helped her to a standing position, then led her up the stairs and into her bedroom. He closed the door behind them, took her by the hand, and sat her down on the bed.