“And so will you,” Leo told him. “You kill her, and I kill you.”
“And then Boni kills you for letting his daughter die. Is that what you want? Do you want to be the one to tell Boni that you let his daughter die right in front of you? Do you want to fail him like that?”
Frustration boiled over in Leo’s face. Blake knew he wanted to shoot, and he couldn’t. Blood was still flowing out of his wounds, too, and Leo wouldn’t be able to stand much longer. Blake kept coming forward, moving up on the driver’s door of the car.
“Throw it away, Leo. If you throw it away, she lives.”
With a hiss of hatred, Leo flung the gun behind him, out of range.
“Smart move,” Blake said. “Now back off away from the car. We’re leaving, Leo.”
Leo retreated. He backed up slowly, retracing his steps around the front of the car and taking a few steps down the street. His hands were in the air. His eyes were dark with anger and pain.
“You don’t look good, Leo. Better call an ambulance after we leave.”
Leo kept backing away. Blake opened the car door and shoved Claire inside, pushing her across to the passenger seat. He clambered behind the wheel and pulled the door shut, keeping an eye on Leo. The old man seemed to be crumbling. His chest was heaving as he took labored breaths. His footfalls were erratic. He wasn’t even looking at Blake or the car anymore. He staggered back, bumping into a palm tree near the curb, and bent over, his hands on his knees. Blood began to spit from his mouth.
Blake started the car. He backed up and then turned for the street. As he spun the wheel, he saw Leo look up again, and with blood on his chin, the old man smiled, his face coming alive. It had been an act. Gasping. Staggering. Nearly falling. Blake realized finally that Leo had come to rest at the palm tree, inches from Serena’s gun. Leo ignored his pain and reached for it, and an instant later, he had the gun in his hand and was swinging it up, pointing toward the windshield of the Impala.
“Get down,” Blake told Claire.
He aimed the car at Leo and jammed his foot into the accelerator. The engine raced, and the car leaped forward, its tires squealing. Blake kept a hand on the wheel and jerked to his left, hearing the explosion of the gun at the same time that the windshield shattered and spilled glass into the car, covering him and Claire and the front seat with sharp confetti. The car shuddered as the front bumper struck Leo. A second later, the car jarred to a halt, and the air bags deployed, cushioning them as their bodies were thrown forward. The balloons collapsed, and he saw Claire jolt back against the passenger seat.
Blake looked through the shattered windshield.
The car was lodged against the palm tree. Leo was pinned between the car and the tree, his lower body crushed. The gun had fallen from his hands. He was still alive, barely, and he stared back at Blake with the ferocity of a man who has been defeated in a fight that means everything to him. Tears of agony slipped down his cheeks, but he didn’t cry out or say a word.
Blake got out of the car. He retrieved the gun from where it had fallen to the ground. Leo followed him, impotent, unable to move.
“You played this well, Leo,” Blake told him with genuine admiration. “Gino would be proud of you.”
Leo tried to spit at him. He couldn’t.
Blake glanced into the car and saw that Claire was watching him. He found himself feeling something like mercy. He shoved the gun in his belt and went around to the other side of the Impala. He opened the door, and Claire seemed to spill out into his arms.
“Are you hurt?” he asked her.
He let her stand up, and she was unsteady on her feet, but she didn’t seem to be injured. She was too stunned to walk, though, and Blake picked her up and carried her back to the trunk. He opened it and laid her inside next to Serena as tenderly as he could. He closed the trunk again and walked back to Leo.
“I know that the pain must be excruciating,” Blake said.
Leo didn’t look at him.
“Eyes open or closed, Leo. It’s your choice.”
Leo turned his head with what seemed to be a superhuman effort. His eyes were open. Blake nodded, brought the gun up to Leo’s head, and fired.
FORTY-FIVE
Serena reached for Claire’s bound hands and held them tightly. When the gunshot exploded outside the car, she knew that Claire was screaming behind the tape that gagged her mouth. She could hear the muffled cries as Claire buried her face in Serena’s shoulder in the dark, cramped confines of the trunk. She felt the dampness of tears through her shirt. Claire clutched her hands so fiercely that her nails were close to breaking the skin.
She felt the car rock as Blake got back inside, and then they were moving, their bodies bouncing loosely as Blake steered the Impala through the town-home complex toward the street. Serena recognized the familiar turns. She hoped someone had heard the shots and called 911, but she knew they would be long gone by the time a squad car responded.
Serena was bruised and sore. She had flown forward when the car thudded to a stop earlier, and she had banged her head against the rear wall of the trunk. Her arms ached from being held stiffly in place, and something-a tire iron?-had struck her squarely in the knee. The bone throbbed with pain.
She disentangled her fingers from Claire’s and rolled onto her back, landing hard on her shoulder blade. She had discovered earlier that she had enough play in her arms to bend them at the elbows and bring her hands up to her mouth. Her fingers clutched at the tape that was gagging her, and she peeled it slowly and painfully away. When her jaw was free, she rubbed it and took several long, deep breaths, gulping air into her lungs. She was sweating. The trunk was hot enough to make her light-headed.
The car rolled over a dip in the street, and her forehead struck sharply against the roof of the trunk. She cursed softly.
Serena braced her left foot on the floor and pushed herself back onto her side, facing Claire again. She found Claire’s hands.
“Claire, listen to me,” she whispered. “You can probably get your hands up to your face and get the tape off. Can you try it?”
She hoped Claire had enough strength, mentally and physically, to do it.
She let go and felt Claire squirming to reposition her arms and get her fingers near her mouth. Claire pulled the tape off quickly, and Serena heard her gasp.
“Shit, that hurt”
They both laughed. Serena was pleased that Claire sounded calm now and not frantic. She nudged closer and put her mouth close to Claire’s ear. “We need to be as quiet as we can. What happened out there?”
“It was Leo,” Claire said. “I think Blake killed him.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. But I was scared to death.”
Serena laid her cheek against the soft skin of Claire’s face. “If’s okay. We’re going to get out of this.”
It’s okay, baby.
Serena felt a strange sense of freedom. Of strength. As if she had been given a second chance, a way to make up for the past. To save Deidre by saving Claire.
“Do you know where he’s taking us?” Serena asked.
“I have no idea.”
Serena didn’t want to speculate. None of the alternatives sounded appealing. She had tried to keep track of the stops and turns once they made it onto the street, but the route quickly became too confusing to follow. She knew they were still in a busy part of the city, because she could hear plenty of traffic noise, even late at night.
“I’m sorry I got you into this, Serena,” Claire told her.
“You didn’t.”
Claire was silent for a moment. “What was happening between us inside-”
“Let’s not talk about that now.”
“I need to know if you regret it,” Claire said.
“No, I don’t.” Serena knew she had to change the subject. “That was smart, what you did inside with Blake. Pushing me. Yelling at me.”