“If he was setting you up, why did he show me evidence that proved you’d set me up?”
“To throw us both off. To get away with embezzlement and murder. Hell, I don’t know.”
“You shouldn’t have run.”
“And leave myself wide open? No thanks.” Michael took a quick look around, trying to see anything that might be out of place, something he might have missed earlier to indicate Drew had brought backup.
With deliberate care, Drew removed his sunglasses. “You’re saying James did all of this.”
“Yes.”
“That he shot you.”
“Yes.”
“That he shot at Blair.”
“Yes.”
“But why kill Hector?”
“I’m guessing he got mixed up with Hector. Hector is probably the one who took the evidence I had. James wanted it, for whatever reason. He has to be the one, other than you, who’s been chasing me. But Blair can prove I didn’t kill Hector.”
“I shouldn’t have let her get away from me in Emerald Bay. I should have known she was helping you.” Drew squinted against the setting sun. “What’s between you two?”
Michael’s stomach twisted in knots. He loved Blair Davenport with all his being, but all it had ever done for either of them was hurt. More sure of Drew, Michael continued. “You’ve got to get Blair out of here and keep her safe.”
“What about you?”
“I want James Meyer.”
The shrill sound of Drew’s cell made Michael start.
Drew punched at the phone, tilting it up. “It’s my office. I should check in just in case it’s got something to do with you.”
Michael looked beyond the people, trying to see any danger.
“It’s no trick. I didn’t bring anybody and didn’t tell anybody I was meeting you.”
“What about James?”
“Last I saw him, he was at the office, trying to figure out what had happened to you.”
“Go ahead, call,” Michael said. It was a huge gamble, but he had to start somewhere.
Drew dialed. “Cut me off. Reception’s bad,” he explained. “I’ll try again in a few.”
Still wary of each other, they walked toward Drew’s car, Michael’s hand on the Glock.
As if he knew Michael didn’t trust him yet, Drew kept his hands well in view as they made their way between the people still enjoying the afternoon.
“Where’s Blair?” Drew asked when they reached Drew’s car in the parking lot.
“I’ll take you to her. I don’t want anybody in your office to know you have her. I have friends she can stay with if you don’t have a safe place.”
Drew reached for the door handle just as Michael caught a movement from the other side of the car.
“Hands on the roof,” James Meyer’s said, slightly crouched on the other side of the car.
Drew reacted first, stepping away from the car, his right hand going automatically to his shoulder holster.
“Don’t, Drew,” James said. “Blair will be really sorry.”
Drew froze. “What the hell?”
“Do as you’re told. Both of you, before I shoot her. Slide your weapons across to me, then put your hands on the roof.”
Michael thought about options, tried to remember how good a shot James was. Would James be able to get off a shot before he pulled the Glock?
Then he saw James’s trump card.
A .44 Magnum pointed at Blair’s neck.
Drew already had his hands on the roof of his car by the time Michael slid the Glock across.
“Good. Let’s find a place we can talk.” The .44 steady on Blair, James looked around. Finally he shifted the revolver, effectively hiding it from public view, but still kept it aimed at Blair. “Over there,” he said, “the construction site.”
As James came around the car with Blair at his side, Michael looked over at Drew. He eyed the weapons which lay on the ground where James had pushed them, then cut his gaze back to Michael. Michael shook his head. Then he saw a minuscule movement. A movement that told Michael that while he now trusted Drew, he shouldn’t have to begin with.
Drew was still armed.
“Start walking,” James said to Michael and Drew. “I’m right behind you. Don’t think you can do anything. You know I’ll shoot her.”
“I’m sorry, Michael,” Blair said, her voice surprisingly strong considering the situation.
“It’s okay, niña.” Michael played back everything he knew about the construction site. There had to be a place where rushing James would work. Where the odds would be with them, instead of with a man who had no intention of letting any of them walk away.
“How touching, Michael. I bet Drew didn’t know his baby sister had run off with you, did you, Drew?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw Drew’s jaws clench.
“Why did you do it?” Drew asked.
“You should know motive is a simple thing. The money,” James replied. “I need it. I caught on to Hector’s little game when Michael asked me to check something out. Hector and I had an agreement. I arranged to take a cut in exchange for services.”
“Which included killing Michael.”
“Hector was supposed to take care of that, but chickened out. Michael had enough evidence to charge him. Hector would implicate me. I couldn’t afford that.”
“Only Hector got the flash drive and kept it. I came home while you were there hoping to find it,” Michael interjected.
“Bad timing, Michael. I’d even checked to make sure you were supposed to be reporting in, so I wouldn’t bump in to you. But, like you said, Hector had already gotten the flash drive. Which, by the way, I now have.”
“What about the shooter at Emerald Bay?” Michael asked.
“Couple of guys Hector hired. They’re history. Just like poor Hector.”
They’d reached the opening in the gate to the construction site. Michael turned his gaze toward James, assessing his hold on Blair. “So you decided to implicate me when killing me didn’t work.”
“Well, you were supposed to die.”
“Why implicate Drew?”
“I figured you would tell him you were clean and he’d believe you. He had to have a reason to believe you were up to your neck in it.”
“So if I thought he’d tried to set me up, I wouldn’t believe him,” Drew filled in.
“It worked.”
“If I’d thought Michael had done anything wrong, he would have been under arrest instead of free to run,” Drew said.
Michael turned sharply toward Drew. So he hadn’t thought the worst. Great time to figure out a friend was really a friend.
“Go to the right here,” James ordered.
Michael stole a look at Blair. She walked stiffly, trying to stay as far away from James as he’d allow. James kept the revolver pressed to her side, his hold on her arm tight.
A pile of white construction sand blocked their way. On the other side, cinder blocks, stacked as high as their heads, backed to the fence. Rebar lay strewn between the cinder blocks and a stack of plastic-covered cement bags.
Drew tripped and fell, landing beside a short stack of cement bags, his left leg bent under him.
“Get up, Drew. Keep your hands out of the sand,” James ordered.
Drew did. He rubbed his hip with his right hand, and used his left hand to pull a compact semi-auto pistol from the holster on his calf.
Now they were armed. But so was James, and he had the advantage. He had Blair.
Drew stood, still rubbing his hip, the pistol now in his palm, hidden from James.
Opportunity. They needed opportunity.
“Up ahead,” James said. “Right around the corner here.”
Michael’s heart slammed into his ribs when he saw where James was taking them. A drainage pond. The perfect place to dispose of bodies.
“Now. Line up over there.” James nodded toward the deep, water-filled pond.
; “This won’t work, James,” Drew said.
“I think it will. Michael, in a desperate attempt to escape, shoots both you and your sister. Only he’s mortally wounded and doesn’t make it out. We’re far enough away from the beach that no one will hear the shots. Your bodies will be found in the morning.”
Shrill, insistent beeping pierced the site. James jumped and stared at the source. Drew’s cell phone. “Turn it off.”
Drew complied. “How did you find us?”
“I followed you out of the office. The rest was luck. I lost you and pulled in behind a car that looked like yours at the Fontainebleau,” he told Drew. “I’d already figured Michael would go for a meeting at some point and that he’d choose a public place. The beach in front of the hotel seemed like a good choice, so I walked out and looked up just in time to spot Blair on the veranda. It took me a few minutes to figure out which room she was in, then it was easy to convince her to open the door by telling her I had Michael.
“I didn’t tell him—”
“I just had to watch your face.” He smiled. “She was so damn scared when I drove up this way. All I did was watch her reactions. When I pulled into the lot, there you were. “
Michael cursed himself for leaving Blair. If he’d had more faith in Drew, he wouldn’t have left Blair at the mercy of James. Now she was going to pay for his mistake.
“You know, Drew,” James said in a conversational manner, “if I were you, I’d be glad your sister won’t have the chance to have anything more to do with Michael. Can you picture him at home with the Davenports? Blair would be forced to give up everything. I bet he doesn’t even know which fork to use. Your family would cut her off for associating with someone like him.”
Michael let James’s words roll off him. “I’m good for one thing, James. I can get you out of this mess. Out of the country. I have the connections.”
James let the revolver slip marginally. “I can take care of myself.”
“You won’t be able to spend the money. You’ll have to hide it. If I got you to South America, you’d be free. No hassles.”
Drew’s phone went off again.
“I told you to turn it off!”
“Sorry,” Drew mumbled.
“Who’s trying to call you?”
“The office.”
“Did you tell them where you were going?”
“No, I—”
“I did,” Blair said and felt James grab her hair and pull her head back.
“What?” he choked out.
“While you were pounding on the door,” she wanted to look at James, but his hold on her prevented it so she focused on Drew. “I called Drew’s office and told a woman agent where Michael and Drew were meeting.”
Had she seen Drew shift something from his left to his right hand? A quick glance at Michael told her nothing.
Nothing except that he wasn’t looking at her. He was watching James, with a small portion of his attention on Drew.
“Bitch!” James yelled into her ear and pulled at her hair again.
The next thing she knew, Blair heard a pop and felt herself pushed toward Drew. Stumbling, she went down on one knee and felt the crushing weight of something hit her. An instant of confusion surprised her, then she realized the weight was Michael, pushing her down on to the sand.
Several loud blasts filled the construction site. She felt Michael jerk, twice, then heard Drew yelling, but couldn’t understand what he said.
Then mercifully, all was quiet.
Michael was too quiet, too still.
Blair tried to move, but couldn’t. Michael’s weight kept her pinned to the uneven sand. In the ringing silence, she heard crunching footsteps. Michael’s arm, limp and heavy, blocked+ her view. Something wet and sticky pooled on her right shoulder and ran down her arm.
She heard someone groan, but it wasn’t Michael. She would have felt anything he said.
She tried to muster her strength to get out from under his inert body.
Then she didn’t have to. Michael was off, rolling to one side. She scrambled to her knees to see how he was. Blood covered most of his upper left arm. She ripped at his shirt and tried to find the source of the blood, but the material wouldn’t give way. Struggling to breathe, she bent to him, her hands searching his neck for life. He had a pulse, but in feeling for it her hands found more blood. Turning his head slightly, she found blood on the back of his neck.
Shaking, she tore at the shirt she wore.
“That’s enough, I think.”
She stopped, her shirt-front clutched in her hands, and looked up. James Meyer. Oh, God!
“Drew!” she shouted, desperate to find him.
“He’s down, too, Blair. Looks like your saviors failed.”
Blair dared a look at Drew. He lay stretched out on his stomach, one arm dangling into the pit. She could see his back rising and falling with his uneven breathing.
And right next to a piece of lumber, half-hidden by a cinder block, she saw a gun. Drew’s little gun. Had he shot at James? How many shots did he use? How many shots did a gun like that have?
God, she didn’t know. She didn’t know anything.
“Get up.”
“I have to help them.”
“There’s little point, is there?” James held his gun steady on her. “I’m the only one walking away from this.”
Blair felt her insides freeze. A numbing calm made her heart slow down. “Let me be with my brother, please.” Her voice quivered.
James looked down at her, then at Drew. Blair held her breath.
“I guess it would look better if you were next to him when they find you. That way it would be obvious that Michael shot you both.” He used the gun to wave her over.
Blair stood, her heart tripping again. The cinder block that obstructed James’s view of the gun was on the other side of Drew, too close to the edge of the pit. Carefully, she stepped over her brother and sat down, her hand resting on the cinder block, as if for support.
“It won’t hurt,” James said as she settled down in front of the block. “I’ll finish them off before I leave.”
“That’s kind of you.”
James laughed. A high-pitched laugh. “Sarcasm!” He shook his head. “That’s amazing.” His right hand, the one with the gun, wavered for an instant.
Blair adjusted her legs and let her hand drop off the block to the sand.
What if it didn’t fire? What if—
It didn’t matter. He was going to kill her. If Michael and Drew were still alive, she was their only hope. He would kill her unless she took a chance.
“I’m sorry this happened. Really,” James was saying. “Your brother and Michael are normally good at what they do. I guess their worry over you made them easy marks.”
Blair felt the cool steel of the gun, rough sand sticking to her palm. Her finger sought the trigger.
“I’m sorry, Blair,” James said.
Blair looked at him for half an instant. Long enough to look into his eyes. He did look sorry. He had trapped himself with his mistakes.
She pulled the gun up and fired. The recoil was worse than she’d expected. It jarred her. James looked startled. He held his gun steady. Terrified, the numbness of fear wearing off, Blair squeezed the trigger again.
Material flew from his left side. Funny, it looked almost like she’d seen in the movies. James staggered, his arm limp. Crazed gray eyes held hers. She didn’t know whether to shoot him again or help him. He fell, heavily.
Sobbing, scrambling over the sand, avoiding Drew, she pulled the gun from James’s grip. He stared at her for a moment, then closed his eyes.
***
Michael’s arm burned. His head burned. No, it hurt. Ached.
Then it all came back. In a rush of panic, he sat up. To his left lay James Meyer, unmoving.
“Blair!” Her name came out sounding like a croak.
She wasn’t here. Drew lay a few feet away, on his stomach.
Bla
ir.
Where was Blair?
Michael got to his knees, the world spinning. Somehow, he crawled over to Drew and checked his pulse. Not strong, but beating. Fighting waves of nausea and the ever-spinning world, Michael searched Drew for a wound. Blood ran dark and thick into the sand below Drew’s stomach. Hot fire ran up Michael’s arm as he rolled Drew over.
Blair. Her name screamed across his thoughts. Where was she?
Michael ripped at his shirt, jerking it off with his right arm since his left one was useless. He balled the cotton fabric, wet with his own blood, and pressed it to Drew’s waist, where the bullet had gone in.
Crunching footsteps amid the chaos of the whirling world made him try to straighten.
Drew’s semi-auto. Where the hell was it?
Turning his head, afraid he’d topple over, he searched the ground around James for his .44.
Nothing.
The steps came closer. More than one person. Running. Heavy breathing.
“Blair.” He wasn’t sure her name actually came out of his mouth.
She was running, tripping in her haste. Behind her ran a uniformed policeman, already shouting into the radio attached to his shoulder.
Gasping, she fell to her knees beside him. “You should,” she stopped for breath, “lie down.” Tears ran freely down her cheeks.
“I’m okay,” Michael managed, his heart soaring now that she was here. Unhurt. “Press on Drew’s stomach.”
She pressed down on Drew when Michael released his hold on the bloody shirt. Her gaze held his for an eternity, her chest rising and falling.
She was so brave. So strong. He tried to smile at her, tried to reassure her in that small way that her brother would be all right. But his face felt frozen. A black void hovered around the edges of his periphery.
“There’s so much blood,” she said in a shaky voice.
“Mine,” Michael managed. “A lot of it’s mine.” The black threatened to engulf him.
She tore her gaze from her brother and looked toward him. Michael tried to hold her eyes, tried to focus on a tear that rolled down to her top lip. She swiped at it, leaving behind a smear of blood. Her brother’s. His.
Against the Wind Page 18
