Charlie laughed. “Patrick was quite the cheapskate, wasn’t he?”
Amy’s arms sprang loose, the duct tape that had once bound her wrists cut free. Beneath the removable rose of her ring was a one-inch steel spike—a weapon Domino had given her.
Amy slashed Andy across the face, going for his eyes, getting an eye.
Andy screamed and covered his face, stumbling backwards, colliding with Mike Childs’s corpse, tripping and falling to the floor where he continued to screech in agony.
Charlie rushed for the rifle. Amy hopped from the chair, ankles still bound. Had Charlie gone for Caleb’s Glock, she would have been fucked. But the Remington was long and unwieldy in close quarters. Amy knocked the barrel of the rifle away before Charlie could aim, drove her elbow into the side of Charlie’s head, sent him reeling, dropping the Remington.
Andy, still screeching, got to his feet and began a frantic, one-eyed search for the Glock. Amy spotted this and went for the Remington.
Andy spotted the Glock by the tripod in the corner. Snatched it, spun, and fired.
Amy fired too. Her shot caught Andy Franklin in the chest. Andy’s shot caught Carrie in the back.
Amy screamed into her gag. She made a desperate hop towards Carrie, tripped, and fell into her daughter’s lap, knocking her chair over.
Caleb yelled something into his gag. Amy turned from the floor and spotted Charlie scrambling to his feet, going for the Remington.
Amy made a frantic crawl towards Andy, towards the Glock. She snatched it, rolled onto her back, and Charlie Hall was blown clear across the room with multiple shots.
Only Amy hadn’t had time to pull the trigger.
Standing in the doorway were Jack Dixon and a member of his team, smoking pistols raised and pointed in Charlie’s direction.
Charlie was dead before he hit the floor. He lay there now, blood pooling beneath his torso. Andy lay wheezing, coughing blood.
Amy struggled to her feet. Looked down at Andy and fired four shots into his torso.
“Amy!” Jack yelled.
Amy ignored him. Turned the gun on Charlie’s corpse in the corner and shot him six times.
“AMY!”
Jack Dixon’s team member grabbed Amy’s gun hand by the wrist and forced it skyward. Amy got one final shot off into the ceiling. Plaster fell.
Jack’s team member took the gun from Amy. Amy blinked, came to, and then hurried towards Carrie, who was now slumped forward in her chair, unconscious. Amy looked up at Jack, ripped the duct tape from her mouth. “Fucking help me!”
Jack rushed to Carrie’s side with Amy. They untied Carrie and laid her gently on the floor. Jack’s team member pulled out his phone and called for help.
Ray appeared in the doorway. Caleb’s surprise was his whole face.
Ray went to work untying Caleb. Free, Caleb pulled the tape from his mouth and rushed to his sister alongside Amy and Jack.
“She’s gonna be all right,” Jack said to Amy, inspecting Carrie. “Bullet caught her in the shoulder. Went straight through, in and out. She’s gonna be all right.”
Amy sobbed, running her hand through her unconscious daughter’s hair, saying “thank you” over and over and over again.
Jack’s team member took inventory of the room while they waited for help to arrive. A hardened veteran of his trade who’d seen it all, his face went pale when his eyes settled on Mike Childs. “Oh my God.”
55
Carrie lay asleep in her hospital bed, Amy in the chair next to her, also asleep, her head lolled to one side, her hand resting on her daughter’s.
Jack Dixon appeared and woke her. Asked her to step out into the hallway with him.
Jack handed Amy a cup of coffee he’d gotten from the hospital cafeteria. Amy thanked him and sipped.
“I’m only going to offer this once, Amy. It’s a take-it-or-leave-it deal that expires the moment I’m out the door. I think it’s time for the Lamberts to disappear. I’ve got the means to make it happen.” He then chuckled dryly. “You and your kids have got more damn lives than zombie cats, for Christ’s sake. How many freaking times have you been tied to a chair and tortured now? It’s almost comical.” His words carried levity, but his face did not. He was gravely serious.
“Yeah, you’re not the first person to say something like that to me tonight.” Amy’s words carried equal levity, yet like Jack, her face too was deadly serious.
“One-time offer. Take it or leave it.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“How do you feel about island life?”
• • •
Caleb was in the hospital cafeteria getting his own cup of coffee. He took a seat and drank slowly. His head ached. He’d been checked out, and the doctor told him he had a mild concussion, that he should consider spending the night. Caleb had refused.
“What do you say, partner?”
Caleb turned. Ray was grinning down on him with his toothless grin. Caleb offered him a seat. Ray sat across from him.
“How you holding up?” Ray asked.
“Head hurts. That’s nothing compared to my ego.”
“Ego?”
“I blew it. I really fucking blew it. I had the chance to save my family, and I blew it.”
“You’re alive, ain’t ya?”
“And I’ve got you to thank for that. I wondered whether you would send for the cavalry when you didn’t hear back from me. Maybe you’re not the selfish old creature you claim to be.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“You sacrificed your ‘nest’ for us.”
Ray smiled. “Actually, I didn’t. Looks like I owe Jack Dixon one.”
Caleb frowned.
“When I phoned Jack and told him what was what, he agreed to keep my operation under wraps. Told the police that him and his team have been keeping an eye on you and your family from time to time—which is true—and that he and I just happened to be together at the time he discovered what was going down.”
“There’s a lot of holes in that.”
Ray shrugged. “Police don’t care about holes when they get the bad guys.”
Caleb sipped his coffee, rubbed the back of his head. “Guess you do get your hands dirty after all.”
“I said I don’t like to get my hands dirty. Besides—” He showed Caleb his palms with his trademark grin. “I didn’t have to pull no triggers. Still squeaky clean.”
Caleb smiled. “You owe Jack, and I owe you. Big-time.”
Ray waved a hand at him. “Forget it.
An awkward pause.
“About the reason I came to see you…” Caleb said.
“Jack knows. Your mom doesn’t, though. Jack said he’d keep it that way. Question is: are you looking at early retirement?”
Caleb dropped his head and shook it. “I truly have no idea. Right now I just want to focus on my family.”
“I understand, partner. Whatever the hell it is you’re working through in that head of yours, I hope you get it sorted. And if not—” He splayed a hand and grinned his grin. “My door is always open.”
Caleb mumbled a thanks.
Ray stood. “Just promise me one thing.”
Caleb looked up at him.
“Promise me you won’t wait until I’m at the door to call my name and say thanks. I hate when they do that clichéd shit in the movies.”
Caleb smiled again. “Then I’ll just say thanks now.”
Ray winked. “Take care of yourself, partner.”
56
Tortola
The British Virgin Islands
One month later
The island sun, strong but pleasant, woke Amy. A warm breeze carried the smell of the Caribbean Sea through her bedroom window. She inhaled its cathartic aroma and exhaled with equal catharsis. With each passing day on the island, she woke with fewer nightmares.
Shuffling into the kitchen, she spotted Carrie on the sofa, reading a book, a cup of coffee next to her on the coffee table.
“Morning, sweetie,” Amy said.
Carrie laid the book flat to her chest and smiled. “Morning.”
“Any coffee left?”
“Lots.”
Amy went to her daughter first. Kissed the top of her head and then insisted she sit up so she could check the bullet wound on her shoulder.
“It’s fine, Mom.”
“Just shut up and let me see.” Amy checked the wound. It was healing nicely. “My ‘bullet twin,’” she said with a little smile, lowering the neck of her shirt to reveal the scar above her right breast—her own bullet wound, courtesy of Arty Fannelli over a decade ago.
“Never gets old,” Carrie said, raising her book again.
Amy kissed the top of her daughter’s head again and went to the kitchen. The pot of coffee was still very full. “Did your brother have any yet?”
“I think he’s still asleep.”
Amy took two mugs from the cabinet and filled them both. She left hers on the counter and brought the remaining cup to Caleb’s room.
His door was closed. She knocked gently and opened it. His bed was empty. Not just empty, but already made.
(Or never slept in?)
Amy returned to the living room. “Have you seen your brother yet this morning?”
Carrie lowered her book again. “He’s not asleep?”
“No. His bed is made too.”
“Maybe he got up early and went to the beach. You know how Marines are. They always make their beds first thing.”
Amy grunted. Caleb did always make his bed first thing. And he had spent a good deal of his time by the water since their arrival on the island. Often, Amy would catch him sitting on the beach and staring out into the sea for what seemed like hours.
She went back to his bedroom. That was when she spotted the note on his dresser.
Mom and Carrie,
I’ll be away for a while. I’ve got some things I need to work out. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t look for me. Don’t contact me. I’ll contact you when I’m ready. I love you both with all my heart.
Caleb
57
New York City, New York
Midnight
Ray was pleased when he saw the headlights in the distance. He’d said midnight, and they were here exactly at midnight. The spot he’d chosen was a secluded lot in one of the seedier parts of town, and he didn’t want to spend any more time here than was necessary. He didn’t want to spend any time here, period. Not one to get his hands dirty whenever possible, this exchange was just far too valuable to trust in the hands of a subcontractor.
After this transaction was done, he would be set for life.
The car, a limousine, slowed to a stop beside him. One of the tinted passenger windows rolled down halfway. A poker-faced man in sunglasses and a black suit looked him up and down. He could have been a gangster. For all Ray knew, or cared, he was.
“You Ray?” the man asked.
“That I am,” Ray said. “And you are?”
“I’m a man who enjoys home movies.”
The precise phrase they’d agreed upon for confirmation of identity when setting up the meeting. It was him. Or them. Again, Ray didn’t care.
“Nice and prompt,” Ray said. “I like that. You got what we agreed upon?”
“Do you?”
“I got it,” Ray said. “I’ve also got snipers on you as we speak.” This was a major bluff, but what Ray felt was a necessary one. Nothing was to stop these guys from taking their prize and leaving him for dead.
“No need for that, Ray,” the man said. “I intend on an honest transaction here this evening.”
“Make the transfer then,” Ray said.
The man brandished his phone. Pressed a few buttons and then tucked the phone back inside his jacket pocket. “Done.”
Ray pulled his own phone. Checked his bank statement. The transfer had gone through. He was rich.
“Hell yeah,” Ray said.
“The product, Ray,” the man said.
“Right.” Ray turned and went to his car. Popped the trunk and removed a cardboard box. He brought it back to the limo.
“And that’s all the tapes?” the man asked. “Even the most recent one?”
“Damn right. Priceless, these babies are.”
“Shame they all survived, though, isn’t it?” the man said. “Would have been far more valuable had the Lamberts actually died.”
“What do you want from me, man? I tried to make that happen. I even tipped those kids off to the Lambert boy coming for them.” He grinned. “Played the anonymous good Samaritan with a courtesy call and everything. Not my fault they fucked it up. Guess those Lamberts are damn hard to kill.”
A gun barrel dug into the back of Ray’s head. “Fucking-a right we are, Ray.”
Ray slowly turned. Caleb Lambert was pointing a gun in his face. Ray’s eyes bulged. “Caleb.”
The limo doors opened. Jack Dixon and his team exited.
“Evening, Ray,” Jack said. “Just when I thought you couldn’t sink any lower.”
“What the fuck is this?” Ray said.
“Long overdue,” Jack replied.
“You wanted the tapes,” Caleb said to Ray. “You found out about them, and all this time, you just wanted the tapes. No—you wanted all the tapes. You knew about their plans to film a final one. You agreed to join Jack and his man at the house so you could grab them when you saw your chance.”
“The police were damn curious as to why there was no tape in the camera that was filming the hell Caleb, Amy, and Carrie went through,” Jack said. “In the VCR too. Wasn’t hard to put the pieces together after that, Ray.”
Ray sighed and dropped his head. “Fine. You got me. Whoop dee doo. I wanted the tapes. You know how long I’ve been watching those little pricks? I had cameras on top of fucking cameras tracking them.” He looked at Caleb. “You showing up at my door really was just a damn coincidence, partner. I couldn’t resist taking advantage. It was nothing personal.”
Caleb struggled to keep his voice even. “You had cameras inside the house. Not just drones spying on them from the outside, but cameras on the inside as well,” Caleb said.
“Yep. In both their houses. Well, their folks’ houses. Saw and heard every damn thing they got up to. Wasn’t hard. Houses were empty during the day when they went to school. No folks either. You know the sick little fucks killed them?”
“You could have called Jack for help at any time,” Caleb said.
Ray grinned and held up a finger. “Ahh—but then I wouldn’t have gotten the final tape, would I? Certainly not the one with you joining the party.”
Caleb whipped his forehead into Ray’s face, a headbutt with the impact of a train. Ray dropped to his knees and clutched his gushing nose. He spat blood. “It was nothing personal, partner. Just business. You gotta believe that.”
“We’re all just selfish creatures in this world, right?”
Ray looked up at him. His nose was crooked. Blood now covered the lower half of his face, dripped from his chin. “That’s right. Hell, you come to me for selfish reasons, didn’t you? To kill folks so you can satisfy whatever kind of sick agenda you got?”
“I told you I only wanted to kill bad people.”
“And so what? You’re gonna kill me now?” He laughed and turned to Jack. “Saint Dixon over there would never allow it.”
Jack and his team turned their backs on Ray. Ray’s mouth dropped open. He spun back to Caleb and held up both hands. “Wait, wait, wait—”
“This is very personal, partner,” Caleb said, and shot Ray between the eyes, and then again, three more times in the chest, after he crumpled onto his back.
Jack and his team turned and faced the scene again. Caleb stood over Ray’s body, gun still on him, staring down at his corpse as though deciding whether he should shoot him some more.
“It’s over, son,” Jack said.
Caleb blinked and looked up at Jack.
“And f
or what it’s worth,” Jack went on, “I am truly sorry. I knew Ray was scum, but I never would have thought—ah shit…” He looked away.
Caleb said nothing.
Jack faced him again. “Go on home, son. We’ll clean up. The tapes too. They’ll be ash in a few minutes.”
“What about the money you sent him?”
He smiled thinly. “Payment on that account has already been suspended.”
Caleb nodded and turned to walk away.
“Caleb,” Jack called to him.
Caleb stopped and turned.
“It’s over,” Jack said again. “Go on back to your family.”
Caleb thought of Father Merrin from The Exorcist again. How Father Merrin had discovered that the key was to do right, in spite of any wrong one felt.
And then he flashed on his own little caveat to that revelation: Even if you’re a psychopath?
(Are you a psychopath?)
“I don’t know,” Caleb said to Jack, but more so to himself.
Caleb left. He was crying by the time he got to his car.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you so much for reading Bad Games: The Complete Series, my friends. I hope you enjoyed reading the series as much as I enjoyed writing it. While I’m fairly certain this is indeed the end to the series, it is quite possible we will be visiting Caleb again sometime in the future. Perhaps in a spin-off of sorts. A badass vigilante who takes out the bad guys, all the while struggling with his own bad guy impulses? Kinda begs to be written, yes? We’ll see…
Please know that every single reader is important to me. Whenever I’m asked what my writing goals are, my number one answer, without pause, is to entertain. I want you to have fun reading what I write. I want to make your heart race. I want you to get paper cuts (or Kindle thumb?) from turning the pages so fast. Again—I want to entertain you.
If I succeeded in doing that, I would be very grateful if you took a few minutes to write a review on Amazon for Bad Games: The Complete Series. Good reviews can be very helpful, and I absolutely love to read the various insights from satisfied readers.
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