Chapter One
Luke
The roar of blood rushes in my ear, while the lightning burn of adrenaline shoots through my veins, a familiar call to action. I have about three seconds to process what has happened and where that leads me, but I’m in a familiar place, in a zone where I’m outside myself and the room, assessing the scene below.
Me holding a gun pointed at Kurt. Him holding a gun to her head, his own daughter. Parker holding a gun pointed at Kurt and shouting at him like he knows him. Kurt shouting at me to kill Parker, which means turning my gun away from Kurt, and in turn, leaving Ana exposed.
That requires me trusting Kurt not to kill Ana.
Kurt, who pretended to be dead, and was not.
That’s a fucked up reality that I don’t have time to fully get my head around right now. What matters now is that he’s forcing my hand, making me choose to kill him or Parker, and gambling that I know him well enough to know he did what he did for a good reason.
He’s not wrong.
But I’m also not stupid. Kurt’s motivation to push me to kill Parker reads like his desire to shut Parker up before he talks too much. And the fact that I believe this to be the case, means I don’t trust Kurt at all. Decision made.
I slide my arm left, shoot the gun out of Parker’s hand, and then for good measure, pop another bullet into his thigh. Before Parker ever hits the ground, my weapon is retrained on Kurt. Parker begins to howl in pain, and I kick his gun away, watching Kurt, who’s still holding Ana. Making damn sure Kurt knows that he’s next if he doesn’t do what I expect and drop his weapon.
He has three seconds and I don’t warn him of that fact.
He knows how this plays out. He created the three-second rule.
One.
Two.
He releases Ana, his gun lowering to his side, but he doesn’t drop it. His eyes meet mine, a pulse, a tension, and a challenge, between us. But this man knows me, and more than my skills, my willingness to kill. Therefore, my finger on the trigger, ready to squeeze, is the only answer to that challenge he needs.
“I kept him alive to hear what he has to say,” I say. “Give me a reason to keep you alive real damn fast.”
Ana steps up to him, points her gun at his head, and says, “Drop the weapon,” her voice a low, tight band, threatening to break.
Only Kurt doesn’t comply. Abruptly and suddenly, instead of dropping his weapon, he aims beyond me, toward Parker or maybe beyond, and at the door. Which I can’t know unless I turn and I have no choice but to do just that. I step sideways, just enough to ensure we aren’t being attacked, and it’s already too late to save Parker. Kurt plants a bullet in his head. Parker is dead. Kurt sets his weapon on the ground and lifts his hands. “He was about to shoot you, son.”
I don’t immediately accept or reject that explanation.
I assess the potential danger. Ana’s gun remains pointed at Kurt. The doorway is clear. With those things confirmed, I eye the weapon lying next to Parker’s left hand. I don’t know if he’s ambidextrous, because apparently, I didn’t know shit about Parker, besides yes, he had another gun. That’s clear. What’s not clear is who he intended to shoot. My weapon swings back to Kurt.
“I’m unarmed,” Kurt declares. “If I was trying to do you dirty, I wouldn’t be. You know that about me.”
I’m as certain of that as I am the next lotto pick numbers. I don’t really know that he’s unarmed. Parker damn sure wasn’t. And as for his “son” address, twice now, “It’s Lucifer to you,” I say, “and we both know how Lucifer feels about killing. I’ll drop you like a rock and live with the consequences of Ana’s pain later. Don’t play me, man. You wanted to shut him up.”
His eyes light with smug amusement. “And yet we both know you’re carved inside out just thinking about killing me. Because you know it’ll kill her.”
I don’t argue his statement as right or wrong. I just look at him. I don’t even remind him I killed Kasey. Sometimes what’s in the eyes is what speaks a thousand words.
His eyes narrow on my face, a tic in his jaw before he clearly sizes me up as willing to shoot because he defends his actions when Kurt never defends his actions. “I didn’t need to shut him up. I came here to tell you both everything.”
“You could have told us everything before we went to your funeral,” Ana snaps. “And you’re not talking. You’re not saying anything besides ‘please kill me’ that I can hear right now. Because every single time you open your mouth that’s what I hear.”
He turns to face her, but considering her gun is aimed right at him, not a tremor to her experienced grip, he smartly keeps his own hands in the air. Kurt is reaping the rewards of his own parenting, facing off with an emotionless daughter he created with his constant drills. He did the same to Kasey, only Kasey didn’t know how to be a warrior and a man. It was one or the other, and in the end, he lost his humanity. But knowing Kurt as I do, Ana’s weakness in his mind is that she never did, which is exactly why he softens his voice and says, “Ana, baby girl.”
I also know Ana.
He’s miscalculated his approach and his little “baby girl” endearment is not the right thing to say.
Her jaw clenches, her anger spiking in the air, her desire to punish him, a living, breathing creature in the room. All that saves him is Ana’s experience, maturity, and probably her badge. While there are obviously too many that do not, she cares about her duty, and it checks her actions. In truth, it checks the extreme actions Kurt taught us all that could easily have defined Ana in the wrong ways.