No Going Back (34 page)

Nicole was trying to go to her friend’s aid but was being held back by her parents. Mrs Walker had gone to her knees at her husband’s side, one hand on his face, the other reaching out to her daughter. The valet was the only one with the sense to run for the entrance door. From within the hotel voices were raised at the commotion outside.

Then that moment was broken as I finally reached a vantage point.

I still didn’t shoot Samuel, but used my gun in a wholly different fashion. The SIG isn’t the favoured weapon of some people because of the disproportionate weight of the butt when fully loaded, but to me, in my line of work, it was an asset. At a run, I launched myself through the air, raised my gun past my shoulder, and brought down the butt against Samuel’s right temple.

The blow was enough to shatter the skull of any man.

Even Samuel, whom Rink had sarcastically called Superman, couldn’t withstand it.

He collapsed over on his side, but to my disgust Jay went down with him.

Her mother grabbed at Jay’s ankles, trying desperately to heave her daughter from the killer’s clutches. Nicole broke free from her parents and came to help.

‘Get out of the way!’

My yell fell on deaf ears.

Now I had Samuel at my feet it should have been a matter of seconds to end it all, but not with the three women entangled with him. Looking for a clean target, I couldn’t find one: not without one of the desperately scrambling women falling across my line of sight. I waded in, trying to clear a way through.

Samuel was hurt. Not in the sense that he was in pain, but the percussive effect of my blow was still ringing in his skull, and his eyes were out of focus as he peered through the tangle of limbs at me. He shook his head like an enraged bull, then rolled away from me, his arm was still looped around Jay. The bastard was using her as a shield while bringing round his own gun. I couldn’t kill him.

Not yet.

But for a split second I saw his left leg disentangle itself from behind Jay’s writhing form and it was all the time I required.

I fired.

The bullet struck the meat of his thigh, holing his suit trousers as though a pencil had been jammed through them. The hole where the bullet exited at the back would be ragged and gaping, as the blood and tissue that sprayed across the concrete bore testament.

Samuel wasn’t impervious to bullets after all.

He had an extremely high tolerance of pain, but that made no difference to what excessive trauma did to a body.

The shock of the bullet ripping through him was enough to change the course of everything. His arms opened wide as he let out a hoarse scream. The gun he held was always secondary, and in the mind-numbing aftershock of having his thigh shattered he loosed his grip on it and it clattered away across the floor. Quickly I drove in, looped an arm under Jay’s waist and yanked her to safety.

My back was turned for a few seconds as I shoved Jay towards the waiting arms of Nicole and Mrs Walker.

I turned back to Samuel and my features were set in stone.

The man surprised me.

I had thought to find him writhing on the floor, trying to staunch the flow of blood from his leg.

The son of a bitch was already coming back to his feet.

He was unsteady and his right leg wouldn’t bear weight, but he looked ready to continue our battle. Maybe it had something to do with the cocaine that was smeared around his bloody nostrils and down his front, but he still thought he was indestructible. He opened his mouth in silent challenge, beckoned me forward with his deformed hands.

That suited me fine.

I so wanted to take the bastard on man to man but I’d already made myself a promise.

I lifted my SIG, aiming between his teeth.

Let me see you brush this one off, I thought savagely.

‘Put down your weapon!’

The command came straight out of left field.

Despite my desire to finish Samuel once and for all I skated a glance past his shoulder to the man aiming his firearm at me.

Detective Chambers.

‘I said put down your weapon, goddamnit!’ Chambers yelled again.

There was more movement, and I saw Detective Witherspoon moving in from across the parking lot, his gun extended. I was grateful that the older cop’s aim was trained on Samuel’s head.

I didn’t lower my gun.

‘Hunter, I swear to God. Shoot that man and I’ll make sure you burn for it.’

I snapped my gaze on Chambers. He was unwavering as he aimed his Glock at me.

I was in the zone, where the red mist descends and all that you’re aware of is the threat before you. Chambers was a good man with – in my eyes – a misguided outlook. I firmed my finger on the trigger.

‘Don’t do it.
I will fire
.’

I looked from Chambers back to Samuel and the pig was gloating.

Witherspoon advanced a few steps and he was adjacent to Samuel now, his gun threatening, but his eyes were on me. ‘Hunter,’ he whispered harshly. ‘Drop your weapon, for Christ’s sake.’

‘
Now!
’ Chambers screeched.

I lowered my weapon.

But it wasn’t because of the plea of one cop or the demand of the other, but because Jay had laid her hand on my wrist.

‘It’s over,’ she said softly. ‘Don’t ruin your life because of this monster.’

I nodded.

Gumball lights flooded the scene as police cruisers came screaming into the lot. Uniformed officers piled out of their cars, weapons trained on Samuel. When I squinted at the flickering lights, I adjusted so that I was again looking at Chambers. He was sneering, but not at me: he was moving in on Samuel now.

A snort of disdain left me, or maybe it was pure disgust.

Samuel was forced down on the ground, his fingers laced at the back of his head as uniforms swarmed over him, frisking him for weapons. I saw two knives come out of his pockets and dropped into plastic evidence bags. Another cop retrieved his dropped gun, holding it by the trigger guard.

As I moved back, both Jay and Nicole wrapped their arms around me, laying their heads against mine. They were both uttering reassurances and thanks but I couldn’t make sense of them. I was still bubbling with anger. I wanted to see Samuel Logan dead, but, now that the cops had cuffed him and rolled him on to his backside, his eyes had shaken off the effects of trauma and narcotics alike and were brimming with insane humour. If he’d vocalised it, I swear I’d have shot the fucker there and then and Chambers could go and fuck himself.

Perhaps she felt the tremor of rage that flooded through my frame, because Jay said, ‘He’s not worth it, Joe.’

She was right. If I shot him in cold blood, where was the satisfaction in that?

‘How is your father doing?’ I said.

Jay stiffened, then ran to where her mother was tending Jameson Walker. Jay threw herself at him, kissing him repeatedly on the cheeks and forehead. I caught the man’s eyes and though he was still a little stunned he had shaken off most of the knock he’d taken. Now he appeared bemused by the hero worship his daughter lavished on him. It was a priceless moment and the only bright spot that I could find.

Nicole was still holding on to me.

‘What about you, Nicole? Are you happy with the way things have ended?’

‘I told you what I thought earlier,’ she said. ‘I haven’t changed my mind.’

Looking down at her I saw something reflected in her eyes. It was my face, but it was definitely her will.

‘Lend me your gun,’ she said.

‘No. No way.’

‘Please,’ she said.

‘No.’

Samuel was hauled up to his feet and was partly supported, partly dragged towards one of the police cruisers. I was glad he was being taken away, because I was tempted to accede to Nicole’s demands.

The thought passed, and did so from Nicole’s mind too. She collapsed against me, weeping in relief.

Chambers and Witherspoon approached.

Though Chambers’ face was rigid, his eyebrows arched, it wasn’t his look that perturbed me but that of his partner. Witherspoon looked embarrassed. Worse than that, he looked ashamed.

‘Please, Miss Challinor,’ Chambers said. ‘I need you to stand aside.’

‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

‘Just do as he says, Nicole,’ I said and gently pressed her away.

‘What are you doing?’ Nicole demanded of the detective.

Chambers ignored her. ‘I’m going to need your weapon, Hunter. Please place it on the ground and take a step back.’

Nicole moved towards me again, but she addressed Chambers. ‘You can’t
do
this.’

‘Nicole,’ I said gently. ‘Just let him do his job.’

I placed my SIG down and Chambers offered me a sour smile.

This time he did read me my rights.

‘Is there any chance I get to share a cell with Samuel Logan?’

44

Samuel watched from where he was seated in the back of a police cruiser. The cop the vehicle was assigned to scowled down at him, eyeing with distaste the blood that was pooling on the scuffed vinyl seat. Samuel understood that was the only reason he hadn’t been taken away to lock-up before now. A duty of care existed even when a prisoner was a wanted murderer: the cops were awaiting the arrival of an ambulance so that his wounds could be tended to. Samuel wasn’t bothered about that; he was too engrossed in what was happening across the lot.

Joe Hunter was being frisked for other weapons. His handgun had already been taken away by the young cop who had also arrested him. Now Samuel saw a wicked-looking knife disgorged from Hunter’s right boot. The man was a fucking walking arsenal, but it looked like the police had now seized everything. He recalled that the man could fight, so wasn’t totally without means of defending himself, but even carrying the dramatic wounds he did, Samuel was confident he could take him.

Maybe they’ll put us in the same holding cell, and we’ll see.

Samuel scanned the faces around him. There were cops everywhere now. Also guests had come out of the hotel and were standing in the forecourt watching the proceedings with ghoulish fascination. Some cops were speaking with them, identifying witnesses. He could see no sign of Jay Walker or Nicole Challinor. He was disgruntled that they weren’t around to witness what he planned next, but it was only a mild sensation. His fixation had jumped to another more worthy recipient.

He stared at Joe Hunter.

Hunter stared back.

Samuel laughed.

‘Keep it down in there.’ The cop standing guard banged his hand on the roof of the cruiser.

Samuel spat bloody saliva on the Perspex partition.

The cop leaned close to the window, which was cracked open a quarter-inch. ‘Do us all a favour, asshole. Hurry up and bleed to death.’

Exsanguination was a very real possibility. Blood pulsed from his wounds. Also, Samuel wasn’t sure that his skull was in one piece after the crack he’d taken from Hunter’s gun butt, and his previously broken rib felt more malformed than it had before rolling about on the floor. He was in bad shape. Anyone else, he assumed, would be unconscious due to the intense agony. Most would already be dead.

He knew that he was short of time and if he didn’t kill Hunter soon he likely would never get the opportunity.

His jailer had turned away, watching as an ambulance entered the hotel grounds, negotiating its way slowly between the other parked vehicles. Samuel’s hands were cuffed behind him, but that was good, because his body would block him should the cop turn around too soon. Samuel strained, yanking savagely. He couldn’t care less if he peeled the very skin from his hand like a glove. He continued to exert pressure, and the flesh began to tear. The blood helped make his wrists slick, except he still couldn’t free his hands.

He didn’t feel pain, but he was sickened by the thought of what was necessary, and only the unreal buzz of cocaine in his mind gave him the fortitude to go ahead with it.

He took his left thumb in the palm of his right hand.

The car must have rocked, because the cop spun around.

‘What the hell are you doing in there?’ he demanded.

Samuel was cringing and thick beads of cold sweat were streaming down his brow. He must have looked like he was suffering heart failure.

‘Holy Christ! Medics! Get over here.
Now!
’

The cop yanked the door open and leaned in, his fingers probing at the carotid pulse in Samuel’s neck. Samuel’s flesh was slimy with sweat and the cop couldn’t pinpoint a pulse, not helped by the shuddering of the body beneath his fingers. He made the mistake of turning to look for support from the approaching medics. It was what Samuel had been waiting for. He pulled free his right hand. The bracelet was still snapped tightly to it, but the other loop was empty save for adhering shreds of skin. The cop’s gun was on his right hip and out of reach, so Samuel grabbed at the next available weapon. He pulled the canister off the cop’s utility belt, flipped open the lid and depressed the button. The contents of the pepper spray were disgorged directly into the cop’s face. He reacted by attempting to rear back out of the car, his eyelids screwed tight, mouth hanging open as saliva flooded from it. Samuel held on to the cop, used his motion to tug him up and out of the car. He dropped the pepper spray and grabbed at the cop’s belt again, this time on his right side. The cop, bewildered, senses in disarray, still had the presence of mind to protect his sidearm. He grappled to retain it. Samuel butted his forehead into the man’s face. The cop was tough, but he was in a no-win position: Samuel head-butted him again. The cop now tried to flee, but Samuel wouldn’t relinquish his hold on the gun and it was torn from its holster.