by Tara Wylde
My God, the venom in his voice! What’s going on?
“Jason, please calm down. I didn’t mean anything, honest.”
He leans forward on the sofa and I flinch back involuntarily. He looks at me, then down at the floor, shaking his head slowly. He sighs deeply.
“It all went wrong the moment he walked in. Everything was fine right up until then, and as soon as he was there, everything fell apart.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
But I think I’m starting to.
My God, can this really be true? Jason has been my best friend since grade school! He was the one who pushed me to be what I am today!
“You’re not stupid,” he says, then smiles ruefully. “Well, except when you’re around him. But you’re smart enough to put two and two together, aren’t you? Obviously Downey didn’t have the means to travel to L.A. and back. He wasn’t behind the notes. Scum like him? No way.”
I can’t believe this is happening. Or can I? In a strange way, didn’t I expect this some day? Jason’s right, I’m not stupid. I know he had feelings for me in high school, and that was a big part of why he hated Xander. But I believed he’d moved on. He’s had girlfriends over the years, and he’s never made a move on me.
But I saw the look in his eye when Xander walked back into our lives. I should have known.
“Why?” I ask. “Why would you send me those horrible notes?”
“Horrible?” He looks at me quizzically – and worse, honestly. “They were declarations of love, Tina. Not hate. I was pouring my heart out to you.”
That was pouring his heart out?
A shiver runs up my back when I even think about reading them. They were the ramblings of someone who doesn’t even understand what love is, let alone how to declare it.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I ask.
I can’t think of anything else to say that won’t set him off.
“I just told you, I thought I was,” he says. “And really, why should I have to? I’ve been telling you I love you since we were in high school, but you’ve been too caught up in your music, or in Xander, to notice!”
“You’ve never said anything to me!”
“With my actions, Chris!” He’s reverted back to my old name. That can’t be good. “I was always there for you, when Xander hurt you, when he abandoned you after he enlisted. When you needed someone to talk your way into the nightclubs so you could perform. When you needed someone to handle all the business things that you couldn’t. You think I wouldn’t rather be running my family business instead of making fifteen percent of whatever you make?
“I was hoping, finally, I could be there when you realized what a selfish prick Xander is.”
“I don’t understand.”
Carol chooses that moment to open the door and come sweeping into the room.
“Jason!” she barks, holding up a sheet of paper.
“What the hell is this invoice for ten thousand in cash? If you think I’m paying this without a receipt, you’ve taken leave of your senses.”
Jason jumps to his feet. “I thought you were asleep!”
“Money never sleeps, Mr. Lane. Especially when it’s my money.”
She stops short when she reaches the sofa, startled by the look on my face. She turns back to Jason, her cheeks red.
“You have ten seconds to tell me what’s going on here,” she says. “Or I’ll call the police and have you arrested for attempted fraud.”
Jason sighs and reaches into the drawer of the desk beside him. His hand emerges with a silver automatic pistol and points it at the two of us.
“I think fraud is the least of my worries right now,” he says.
Chapter Thirty-Three
XANDER
Chicago is home to some of the worst traffic in the U.S., and that applies even now, at two a.m.
Luckily, Sgt. Roth is a hell of a driver, and folks seem to pay more attention to the blue-and-red lights after midnight. We’re making good time to the Peninsula.
But how much time do we have?
Roth glances down at the tablet on his dash. “Precinct office reports still no answer from Ms. Quinn,” he says.
The barbed wire around my stomach cinches a little tighter as he confirms what I already knew.
“That’s it, then,” I say. “He’s got her. I could see her not answering me, but she would never ignore a call from the police. She’s too straight-laced.”
I grab the “holy shit” handle with my working hand as we careen around a corner at thirty miles an hour. Roth hasn’t hit the siren because he doesn’t want to alert anyone that we’re on our way to the hotel.
“I know the captain said to give you some leeway,” Roth says. “But I’ve got some reservations about sending you in there with that gimped wing of yours.”
“We don’t have a choice,” I say. “Lane is volatile. If you go in with guns drawn, he’s liable to do something stupid. As long as he’s got me where he wants me, Tina will be safe.”
Roth gives me a sidelong glance. “You’re sure about that?”
“Of course not,” I say. “But it’s our best shot. I’m positive he sent Downey into that room to kill me.”
“But why would Downey do it? Even if he was practically dead anyway, why would he agree to kill someone and then kill himself?”
“I don’t know, but it’s the only explanation. That’s why he kept saying ‘I can’t do this.’ The look on Lane’s face when he heard that was pure rage. At the time, I thought it was because he believed Tina was in danger. Now I know it’s because Downey was refusing to kill me.”
“But if he had,” says Roth. “Then it would have looked like a murder-suicide.”
“Exactly,” I say as we emerge from the exit onto North Michigan Avenue. The Peninsula is on the corner with East Superior Street up ahead.
“It gets rid of me and the stalker, and leaves Tina alone with Lane.”
The thought puts my nerves on edge and I wonder yet again how I can act when I know Tina is in harm’s way. I almost lost it earlier tonight; what makes me think I’ll be able to do it now?
SEAL training tells us to press every advantage, no matter how small. In this case, I have to use the fact that Jason wants me dead.
I must keep Tina safe.
Even if it kills me.
Chapter Thirty-Four
TINA
“Jason, you don’t have to do this.”
I’m amazed at how steady my voice sounds, because the rest of me is buzzing with fear and adrenaline. I read somewhere that a calm voice is the best way to deal with a situation like this. And to keep saying the person’s name.
Of course, it’s not like I have any idea what I’m talking about.
I bet the person who wrote that guide was never trapped in a hotel with a murderous childhood friend pointing a gun at them. And I’m sure they didn’t have Carol Ridley’s manicured nails digging into their bicep.
“You little bastard,” Carol spits. “I disliked you the moment I first shook your hand, and I’m never wrong about people.”
I tilt my head towards hers, keeping my eyes locked on Jason. “You’re not helping,” I whisper.
“Just wait until Xander gets here,” she says. “I can’t even imagine what he’s going to do to you. If you run now, you might have a small chance of getting away.”
“Ah yes,” says Jason, waggling the gun. I don’t know what caliber it is but it looks like a small cannon; much bigger than the one the man in my room used. “Xander Tate, the below-decks maintenance man. I’m quite frightened.”
My heart has been racing so much tonight that I feel like it’s never going to slow down again. I don’t even know if Xander will come back to the Peninsula after the way we left things. He’s probably already at another hotel, fast asleep.
“You idiot,” Carol says. “That’s a euphemism for a SEAL.”
Jason’s eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”
“Sea, air and land,” Carol says triumphantly. “Xander was a special forces commando for the U.S. Navy. Secret missions. Terrorists. Why do you think I hired him? Did you honestly believe it was because he was some beefcake bouncer with a YouTube following?”
I hold up my hands in a surrender pose and squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t process all this.
“Wait, wait, wait, time out,” I say, turning to face Carol. “Xander. My Xander. Is a SEAL?”
Her eyebrows arch. “Of course, dear,” she says. “Do you mean to say he never told you?”
I feel like the sun is rising in my mind, shedding light where there’s been so much darkness for so long. That’s why he cut off contact. That’s why he never talked about his time in the Navy with me. I can’t imagine what those kinds of experiences would do to a kid as happy-go-lucky as Xander used to be.
“Wait a minute,” I say to Carol. “He told you he was a SEAL?”
“Of course, darling. He was negotiating his paycheck. I approached him because I was curious after watching the video – and, let’s face it, his looks had a lot to do with it – but it was his experience and skillset that got him the job.”
“Shut up!” Jason screams, prompting Carol to clutch onto me again. “It’s always Xander! Always, always, always! Never Jason!”
As scared as I am, I’m also fascinated. This tirade brings back so many memories that I never gave much thought about at the time. Jason’s petulance, his entitlement, his need to get his own way. I guess I always turned a blind eye to it because he was always so loyal to me.
He levels the gun at us and moves closer.
“Well, I guess it’s Jason now, isn’t it?” he says.
The sudden pounding at the door makes Jason jump. He spins to face it, gun at the ready.
“Jason!” Xander’s voice says from behind the door. “Open up! It’s me you want!”
Chapter Thirty-Five
XANDER
The door opens and the first thing I make out is Tina and Carol standing in the center of the room. The look on their faces tells me Jason is behind the door and armed, as I expected. They’re terrified.
Tina is terrified.
I step inside slowly, my hands raised. I’m quivering with menace, and my left shoulder hurts like hell. But I don’t let it show. I want Jason to know I’m not a threat. Once I’m in, I see the door to my left swing closed, revealing him and the gun he’s pointing at my chest.
It’s a Desert Eagle .50 caliber, one of the largest handguns in production, developed for use by the Israeli military.
If the circumstances weren’t so deadly serious, I’d be laughing my fool head off. As it is, such a huge weapon in the hands of such a weedy man could easily go the wrong way. The recoil will almost certainly throw his aim off.
But that means the bullet could go anywhere. And unfortunately for me, ‘anywhere’ includes Tina. And that’s unacceptable.
“Jason,” I say, looking him in the eye. “Let them go. You know you don’t want to hurt them.”
“Get over there,” he says, motioning with the barrel towards the women.
“No, Jason. I’ll stay where I am,” I say evenly.
I can’t risk being near them. If the gun goes off, it needs to be pointed in my direction, not theirs.
“Mr. SEAL,” he says with a mocking smile. “You know everything, don’t you? Of course you do, Xander Fucking Tate.”
“The police have figured out most of it.” I say. “But they’re not sure why Curtis Downey agreed to kill me and then himself. What did you offer him?”
Jason frowns. In the middle of the room, Carol’s eyes widen.
“That’s what that cash invoice was for!” she says. “You gave him that ten thousand. But why would the man he kill himself?”
“He was already dying,” I say. “Painfully. He probably jumped at the chance to kill himself. But in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to shoot me.”
Jason snarls in my direction and raises the gun so that its level with my chest. His arm quivers under the weight of it.
“Maybe he couldn’t, but I can.”
“It’s over, Jason,” says Tina. Her voice is more level than I would have expected. She has some serious steel in her. Which makes me regret barking at her earlier even more.
“You’re not this person. You’re not a killer. You’re my friend.”
Keep talking, baby. I think, trying to send Tina the message telepathically. You’re the only one he’ll listen to.
God, this is fucked up.
“Friend,” Jason croaks. “God, I hate that word. All these years I’ve loved you, and you wanted me to be your friend.”
“You can’t choose who you love,” she says. She looks in my direction. “If I could, do you think I would have chosen him?”
Ouch.
“If Xander were to… not be here tomorrow, it wouldn’t make me fall in love with you. That’s not how love works, Jason. I think you need some help to understand that.”
Jason looks at me bleakly and the gun trembles in his hand.
“How did it all go so wrong?” he whispers.
Tina lets go of Carol and turns to head towards Jason. I raise my right hand to stop her and she flashes me a look that could stop a charging bull in its tracks.
“I’m going to help my friend,” she says.
Suddenly, from behind the door: “Jason Lane! This is Sergeant Roth of the Chicago PD! We know you’re in there and we know you’re armed.”
Roth might be a great driver – but his timing sucks.
Jason’s eyes almost pop out of his head and he starts pivoting from side to side as the panic overwhelms him, and the barrel of the cannon sways wildly.
I move without thinking, charging towards Jason’s left side, where Tina is standing. With my good right arm, I sweep her down and to the right. She hits the floor with a grunt. My bum left hand reaches for the gun in Jason’s right, but it doesn’t respond as quickly as I want and Jason breaks free from my grasp.
He drops to his rear on the floor and I follow on my knees. He raises the gun barrel again.
“Xander!” Tina screams.
I know what’s going to happen a full second before the something – probably the sole of Roth’s shoe – collides with the door. I see Jason’s eyes go wide as the door crashes in, followed by Roth like a bull in a china shop. The gun barrel is suddenly into a vertical position, headed for the underside of Jason’s chin.
I feel the stitches give in my shoulder as I grab the barrel with my left hand and twist it as hard as I can towards the floor. Jason’s hand lands flat, still gripping the gun, and his index finger snaps inside the trigger guard. He shrieks in pain as I pull the Desert Eagle out of his grip and pitch it across the room.
His eyes are rolling in their sockets. “Don’t kill me,” he whimpers. “Please don’t kill me.”
And before I even realize what’s happening, I’m doing the last thing I ever would have expected.
I’m hugging Jason Lane.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Epilogue
TINA
Before the tour started, Carol gave me a pretty good idea of what to expect: the media, the crazy parties, the fans, the long, boring hours on the bus. But no one said anything about how it would feel when it was all over.
It’s bittersweet.
I mean, finishing off with two sold-out shows in New York was everything I could have wished for and more. But there was also the craziness with Jason.
Now that it’s all in the past, I feel like I’ve stepped off a rollercoaster and I have to get used to the solid ground under my feet again.
The sand feels like brown sugar between my toes and the soft hiss of the surf is like music to my ears. We decided if we were going to spend time back in New Orleans, there was no way we weren’t going drive out to Biloxi Beach for a day. It might not be as pristine as the beaches in L.A., but it’s got its own special beauty.
And most
importantly, it feels like home.
I squeeze Xander’s hand and smile up at him. His left arm is still in the sling, but the doctor says he should be able to take it off next week. The second set of stitches has held just fine and the wound is healing the way it’s supposed to.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he says.
“Sorry, no sale,” I say, looking out at the tide. “My mind is a blank. And that’s exactly how I want it right now.”
He grins that lopsided grin. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”
I punch his good arm lightly and he pretends to be hurt.
“I talked to Jason’s doctor today,” I say.
“And?”
“He’s doing better. Still a long way to go, but they think he’s starting to figure out some coping skills. And the medication is helping.”
Xander looks out at the gulls swooping and diving over the gulf.
“Good,” he says.
“What did I tell you about using your words?” I scold.
“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “You’re right. I’m glad he’s making progress. I owe him a lot, for everything he’s done for you over the years. I hope he can have some semblance of a normal life someday.”
Xander is making progress, too.
We talked for hours after the police took Jason into custody, even though we were both exhausted. Xander told me about his experiences with the SEALs, about the effect it had on his soul.
I understood why he never talked about it to me, and I explained why I needed him to talk about it. It was almost like we were getting acquainted all over again, for the third time.
We wind our way slowly towards the pier, fingers entwined, kicking up little clouds of grey sand with each step. As we reach the pilings underneath, my phone starts to warble. It’s Carol.
“Darling!” she says as soon as I hit the button. “How are my two favorite bayou babies?”
“We’re fine,” I say. We revel in the shade of the pier, and Xander leans against a piling with his good shoulder. I point at the phone and mouth Carol. He nods.
