Tattooed

by Pamela Callow

  This was the biggest high of them all.

  She wanted John. Right now. Against the concrete wall.

  “It’s my turn,” she said. Her voice was high, thin, not her voice at all.

  John tossed the revolver to Kenzie.

  Lovett ducked.

  “You are fucking crazy, man!” Lovett cried. “It could go off.” But he was grinning.

  Lovett covered her hand with his own. It was a strange contrast of sensation: cold, hard metal on her palm; hot, sweaty flesh on the back of her hand.

  “I can do it by myself,” she said. Everything swayed. The gun’s grip pulsed against her skin.

  She aimed the gun at Heather.

  The girl stared at her.

  Don’t. Please, her eyes begged.

  “Pull the trigger, Kenz,” John said. “She’s all yours.”

  Kenzie barely noticed. The gun curved so naturally in her palm. It was meant for her hand, it was meant for her body, it was meant for her.

  And no one else.

  She pulled the trigger.

  In that split second, she knew.

  A bullet had been in the chamber.

  A loud crack exploded in the small rear bunker. Then a gasp.

  “Holy Mother of God!” Lovett cried.

  Heather fell backward against McNally. Blood bubbled from her chest.

  Kenzie yanked her hand from Lovett’s.

  “You did it, Kenz,” John said. He grinned.

  “Help me,” Heather moaned.

  Blood streamed from the wound in her chest.

  John let her crumple to the ground.

  She moaned again.

  Kenzie’s mind crashed to a halt.

  She had played this game and had never been beaten by the bullet.

  All the coke and vodka rushed up into her throat.

  Oh, God.

  What had she done?

  The smell of blood filled the small concrete room.

  John grinned at her.

  What would happen when they left these walls? In a few hours, when dawn broke?

  She had just shot a girl.

  Her. No one else.

  And John was going to strangle the girl.

  She knew it. She remembered what he had drawn on that sketch.

  She was going to puke.

  She lunged out the door and broke into a sprint, still gripping the gun.

  It was only later, while rinsing the gun in the sink, that she had discovered the other two bullets in the gun’s chamber.

  Jesus, she could have killed herself with that while she had been running.

  Then another, more chilling thought hit her.

  Had John meant it for her?

  Would he really have killed his obsession?

  She still didn’t know. But she wasn’t going to hang around and find out. She snapped the cylinder and locked the gun, weighing it in her hand.

  She had told McNally to wait ten minutes, and then come find them.

  She was ready.

  She didn’t think he was armed, but she didn’t know for sure.

  And she sure as hell wasn’t taking any chances.

  The guy was definitely psycho.

  And he would never leave her in peace.

  It was either her. Or him.

  Then she would kill Kate. She had no choice. If Kate lived, she would talk. Kenzie would be convicted. If Kate died, it would be a tragic murder-suicide. Two bullets from the same gun that killed Heather Rigby. A rather neat solution, if she did say so herself.

  She heard a rustle.

  She flattened herself against the wall, cocked the gun and waited.

  Blood hammered in her ears.

  A low groan broke through the silence.

  Kenzie darted a frantic glance at Kate’s crumpled body. She moved, trying to get her hands under her body to push herself up.

  Did she have time to knock her out again?

  Footsteps. Getting louder. Faster.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  McNally was just around the corner.

  Kate pushed herself into a sitting position. She leaned against her sister’s box and put her hand to her head. Her face was white.

  Then her eyes focused on Kenzie. With the gun.

  She staggered to her feet. Blood trickled onto her forehead. She gripped the edge of the shelving, and swayed. But her eyes were hard with fury. “You tricked me.”

  McNally was at the door.

  Kenzie’s blood pounded in her ears.

  Kate lunged toward her.

  Her finger tightened on the trigger.

  This is your chance, Kenzie.

  Do it!

  McNally burst into the room. He was a blur of speed, backed up by mass. Kenzie pressed herself to one side.

  Kate crashed straight into him.

  He threw her against the shelving.

  Kenzie pressed the gun against the side of his head.

  “You bitch!” he screamed, raising his hand.

  It was then that Kenzie saw he gripped a pistol.

  Where the hell did he get that?

  Do it.

  Now.

  The thoughts moved in tandem with the pistol McNally aimed at her head.

  Now!

  Kate sprang forward, kicking the pistol from McNally’s hand. It flew into the air and spiraled down into the box holding Imogen’s belongings.

  Before McNally could move, Kenzie pressed the muzzle hard into his temple.

  She braced for the kickback. Die, you bastard! She pulled the trigger.

  The trigger did not budge.

  She strained, pulling with all her strength.

  The mechanism was frozen.

  Oh, God.

  McNally smashed the revolver from Kenzie’s hand and twisted her arm around her back. “You had this planned the whole time, didn’t you?” Pain and anger flashed through his eyes. He shoved her arm high up her back.

  Kenzie yelped. Something in her arm snapped.

  “Don’t move!” Kate yelled. She held McNally’s pistol. She had retrieved it from Imogen’s box. Her voice echoed in the storage room.

  Sweat ran down McNally’s temple. In the small space he seemed bigger than ever, everything pumped and straining to explode. Kenzie half-collapsed against him, her body caved where he twisted her arm.

  “Kill him, Kate,” Kenzie panted. “Or he’ll kill us.”

  McNally snorted. “You’re one to talk. You killed Heather.”

  Kate’s gaze darted from Kenzie to McNally.

  Do something, Kate. Before McNally does. If she didn’t do something now, he would overpower her.

  God knew what else McNally would do. She remembered the blood lust in his eyes on Mardi Gras night.

  “He wanted you, Kate,” Kenzie said, her voice desperate. “He told me to call you. He was going to do to you what he did to Heather Rigby.”

  The only sign that Kate heard was a flaring of her nostrils. “Kick your gun over here, Kenzie.”

  Kenzie kicked the old service revolver toward Kate, squashing her fear as her only protection slid away from her.

  McNally sensed her panic.

  “It’s a worthless piece of shit, anyway,” he said, tightening his grip on her arm. It was a message: you tried to kill me, bitch. And now you have to pay. “You didn’t seriously think it would fire after all this time, did you?”

  Kill him, Kate. Kill him. “He wanted to kill your sister, Kate,” Kenzie cried. She felt McNally’s entire body tense. “He tattooed her with his mark.”

  Kate threw a wild glance at McNally. “You wanted to kill Imogen?”

  Kenzie flashed a triumphant glance at him. You bastard. You are not taking me down. “Imogen was supposed to be his first victim.”

  51

  Kate’s head swam, but Kenzie’s voice sliced through the wooziness. “What do you mean, his mark?”

  “It was a raven,” McNally said. “Ravens mate for life.”

  “She was only fifteen,” Kate sa
id. Her blood whooshed through her head, as if her arteries were a roller-coaster track. Up, down and all around.

  “It was Kenzie who wanted to put the bullet in her head,” McNally snarled, jerking Kenzie’s arm back. Kenzie moaned.

  It was true.

  She could see it in Kenzie’s eyes.

  Kenzie had planned to kill her sister.

  “Kate, don’t listen to him. He has this sick, perverted fantasy. He wants to rape you and strangle you to death. He planned to do it to Immy.”

  Kate’s muscles trembled, caught in a tug of war between fatigue and adrenaline.

  “Kill him, Kate. You have to do it. He’ll never let you be in peace again. He’ll haunt you, he’ll send you messages, he’ll hurt everyone you ever loved. He will make your life a living hell!” Kenzie’s voice shook. “He is evil incarnate. And he will not stop until he gets what he wants!”

  McNally’s eyelid flickered.

  It was the only warning Kate got.

  He shoved Kenzie into a shelving unit and lunged toward her, fist raised, mouth snarled in a battle cry.

  “Pull the trigger, Kate!” Kenzie screamed.

  Kate jerked her finger on the trigger.

  McNally’s body jolted. Blood spurted from a tiny hole in his chest. Kate could barely see it.

  Then he kept coming at her.

  Shoot him again.

  He threw himself on her, ripping the gun from her hand.

  Oh, God. He’s got the gun.

  Blood began to stream from his chest.

  He pointed the muzzle at Kate.

  She shrank back into the corner. “Kenzie. Help me!”

  Kenzie stood behind McNally. Her gaze locked onto Kate’s.

  Those eyes. Merciless.

  They had always been merciless.

  They were still merciless.

  She’s going to let him kill me.

  McNally made a gasping, choking sound. Blood bubbled from his mouth.

  He staggered. Kate lunged forward and grabbed the hand holding the gun. She twisted it, smashing it against the metal shelving. McNally’s mouth opened. He gasped but no air could pass through his blood-filled airway.

  Kate smashed his hand again. The pistol flew past Kenzie. It hit the concrete floor in the corridor and skidded to a stop.

  McNally crumpled at her feet.

  She stumbled over him, staggering against the shelving unit.

  Kenzie stepped in front of her. Kate looked up.

  Kenzie raised the old service revolver with her good arm. “Thanks, Kate.”

  Are you friggin’ kidding me? Would this never end? She was pissed off. She just wanted to get out of this hellhole. “Kenzie, put the gun down. It doesn’t even work.”

  Kenzie’s jaw clenched. “I’m not going to jail.”

  “Kenzie, you’re not making any sense. Even if you kill me, you’ll still go to jail. There’s no way you can cover this up.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” she said. She aimed the revolver straight at Kate’s forehead. Her finger was on the trigger.

  Her eyes shone with death.

  What if the latch became unfrozen?

  “Put the gun down, Kenzie!”

  “I can’t.” Kenzie shook her head. “Sorry.” Her gaze mocked Kate’s.

  I was always smarter than you, Kate.

  “Did you really intend to kill my sister? Was that why you tattooed her?”

  Kenzie studied Kate. Finally, she said, “McNally tattooed her. She was in love with him.”

  Imogen. So trusting. So desperate to be loved.

  Her little sister.

  She had been a baby.

  “How can you live with yourself?”

  “How can you live with yourself, Kate? She only turned to me because you were so controlling. She didn’t need another mother. She needed a sister, a friend.”

  Kate’s body began to tremble. “Some friend you were. Why would you do that to someone?”

  Kenzie’s eyes hardened. “It was McNally’s idea. Besides, it was fun.” She raised the gun and aimed it at Kate.

  Kate jumped onto the edge of the bottom shelf, and using it as leverage, threw herself straight at Kenzie.

  Kenzie squeezed the trigger—

  Kate’s body plowed into Kenzie’s.

  They went flying through the doorway.

  Kate heard Kenzie’s head hit the concrete. Hard.

  She had landed on top of Kenzie. For a moment, their hearts raging against one another, two heartbeats that would never be in unison.

  Kate pushed herself up with her arms and staggered to her feet.

  Which way should she run? She swiveled to the right.

  Something black gleamed on the ground.

  Right by Kenzie’s feet.

  It was McNally’s pistol.

  Shit.

  Kenzie saw it at the same time.

  Kate dove for it.

  Kenzie kicked her in the face, scrabbling for the gun.

  Kate’s cheek exploded in pain.

  Black spots. Swirling, dancing, dying…

  She shook her head, dislodging the spots from her vision.

  Kenzie had the pistol.

  Kate pushed herself up—grateful for the muscle memory from all those push-ups—and kicked Kenzie’s injured arm.