Stay (29 page)

He felt something hot and sticky trickle down his nose and over his lips. He blinked his vision back, touched his forehead, and looked at the blood on his fingers.

Payne turned his head and saw David Sparrow in the next seat, pointing his own .45 at him. In his other hand he held a leather blackjack. Sparrow looked haggard, but there was something wild and lethal in his eyes.

“The hotel has a security office with cameras that monitor all the entrances. In one of the few places in the hotel that gets power from the backup generators,” Sparrow said. “All I had to do was give you a reason to show yourself. By the way, Larry Meadows says hello.”

Sparrow brought the blackjack down hard on Payne's kneecap. He felt it break, and fiery pain exploded down his leg. He yelled and cursed.

“I don't even know who that is,” Payne said angrily.

“No, you wouldn't, would you?” Sparrow said. “You have men to handle people like Larry. So you don't get your hands soiled.”

“Fuck you.”

“I thought about what I was going to say to you,” Sparrow said. “You know what I realized? I don't have anything to say to you. Not one thing. You're just something that needs to go away, so I can have my life back.”

“So you'll shoot me with my own pistol? What's that supposed to be, poetic justice or something?”

“It's convenient,” Sparrow said. “After I shoot you, I can put the gun in your hand and make it look like suicide.”

Payne scoffed. “I shot myself. After I broke my own kneecap?”

“Shit happens.”

“You're not going to kill me, and I'll tell you why,” Payne said. “Because you're a smart man, and you see an opportunity sitting in front of you. I underestimated you, that much is clear. So, here I am a rich man and you—how did you put it before? You're holding all the cards. Or at least one .45 caliber card that at the moment is enough. I'm sure we can come to an agreement that would be mutually—”

Bang
.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The last flight of stairs almost killed him.

The thought made David laugh. After all he'd been through … to be killed by the stairs of the Royal Empire Hotel seemed an absurd injustice. His own fault for shutting off the power and killing the elevators.

He'd seen the police lights out on the street even as he left the parking garage. The cops would be busy downstairs for a while, but eventually David would have to face the music. There would be lots of questions to answer. David would do his best to take the heat off of Amy. He'd take the blame. He didn't even care anymore as long as his family was safe.

And if he could drag his bedraggled ass up just a few more stairs, he could throw his arms around her and kiss her and tell her he loved her and that she was all he needed in the entire world.

And to hell with the Army.

He opened the door to the penthouse and stepped inside. “Amy!”

David rounded the corner into the living room. “Amy, where are you? I—”

David froze, his stomach twisting into a knot.

“Hello, government man,” said Yousef Haddad. His voice was a grotesque croak. “It seems we still have some unfinished business.”

The front of Yousef's face was a lumpy purple mess from the beating David had given him with the skillet. One ear and one side of his head were blackened with major third-degree burns. His lips were gone from half of his mouth, exposing cracked teeth. Hair scorched and patchy.

In all of that mess, one eye looked out clear and bright with hatred.

He held Amy by the neck. In his other hand he held a Glock to the side of Amy's head.

“I'm sure I've looked better,” Yousef said. “If you're curious, my entire back is burned. When the shock wears off, I imagine the pain will be excruciating. In any event, I don't expect to live.”

“There's an ambulance downstairs,” David ventured. “Maybe—”

“I rather think we'll all be beyond the need for an ambulance after I'm finished,” Yousef said.

David swallowed hard.

“I've been hanging on waiting for you to arrive,” Yousef told him. “I'm going to die, and a dying man should get a last wish, don't you think?”

David said nothing. Amy caught his eye. She had a look on her face like she was trying to get him to read her thoughts by sheer willpower.

One of her hands was very slowly moving around behind her to her back pocket.

“There's a nice balcony behind us.” Yousef gestured with the Glock. “I thought to throw her off. You can watch her all the way down.”

Amy's hand slowly dipped into the back pocket of her jeans.

“Listen to me, Haddad.” David knew reasoning with the man was useless, but he wanted to keep Haddad's attention focused on him. “I'm the one who lied to you. I said your family would be safe. Take it out on me, okay?”

Yousef pointed the Glock at David's face. “Trust me, government man. After you've watched her die, it will be your turn for pain.”

Amy's hand came quickly out of her back pocket, the little silver automatic David had taken from Gina glinting silver. She brought the gun around to take aim at Yousef.

Yousef caught her wrist.

Twisted.

There was a snap, and Amy screamed, dropping the gun.

David tensed to make a play, but Yousef brought the Glock up fast.

“Too slow, government man.”

Amy's arm hung limp at her side. Her breathing came shallow, skin going ashen.

Yousef said, “I think she has more fight left in her than you do, Sparrow. Maybe she—”

Amy spun on Yousef and struck with the other hand, burying the eyeliner pencil deep into Yousef's good eye. Yousef screamed, blood spurting out over Amy's fist.

David was already moving. Yousef tried to bring the Glock around again, but David leaped and grabbed it just as Yousef pulled the trigger.

The pistol went off an inch from David's ear and the world exploded in sound. David screamed.

His momentum carried him forward and they went stumbling back out onto the balcony. David kept pushing forward until the small of Yousef's back hit the railing. David smashed Yousef in the face with a forearm, and the momentum carried Yousef over—

—and down.

David watched him hit with a crack on the cement below between the pool and the spa.

He staggered back into the penthouse suite, bells still going off in his head. He knelt next to Amy and gathered her in his arms, careful of her injury.

“Let's go,” David said. “Let's get you downstairs. Get you some help.”

“Is … is he…?” Amy looked toward the balcony.

“We're all done with him,” David told her.

They walked out to the hallway together, David turning them toward the stairs. The apartment had its own generator he reminded her and then explained about shutting off the hotel's power, putting the elevators out of commission.

Amy sighed. “That's a lot of stairs.”

“Sorry,” David said.

At that moment the lights came back on. Somebody had found the switch.

“See?” David said, escorting her onto the elevator. “Things are looking up already.”

*   *   *

They staggered out through the main entrance of the lobby, holding each other up. The street was bathed in the red and blue lights of the emergency vehicles. Paramedics tended the injured, and police officers took statements. Shriners hovered in the background and wondered where their convention had gone.

David took Amy to a paramedic. “Broken arm.”

“Okay, man,” said the paramedic. “We got this.” He set Amy on the curb and began to gently prod the arm. David kissed her on top of the head, then headed for the nearest cop.

He presented himself to the officer. “Hey, I think you're looking for me.” David swayed on his feet, just about to fall over.

“We're looking for a lot of people, pal,” the cop said.

David explained who he was.

“Holy shit.” The cop turned to his partner. “It's that fucking guy. The one from TV.”

There was a brief discussion about whether David should see one of the paramedics or be handcuffed first.

A man in a dark blue suit pushed his way through the crowd. He looked so clean and so groomed and so well pressed that David thought he might be computer generated.

“I think I can handle this for you, officer,” the man in the suit said.

“Oh, yeah? Who the hell are you?”

“Agent Joseph Armand.” He flashed his ID. “FBI.”

“Shit,” the cop said. “Fine. He's all yours.” The cop stomped away looking half pissed and half relieved.

“You look like you've had quite a night, Mr. Sparrow,” Armand said.

David turned his head, pointed at his good ear. “Talk into this one.”

“A friend of yours named Charlie Finn said we might be of assistance to each other,” the FBI man explained. “Would it be all right if we had a conversation?”

David grinned. “As long as we can do it sitting down.”

 

EPILOGUE

“Mommy!”

Anna ran up the driveway and threw herself at Amy.

“Watch the arm!” Amy said.

They hugged, and Brent joined in a second later, squeezing her tight. Both children were pink. They'd gotten some sun out by the pool according to Amy's sister.

“How about me?” David asked.

Anna and Brent launched themselves at David, hugging him tightly around the neck. Anna kissed his cheek.

Then she pointed at the cast on Amy's arm. “I know why you sent us to Disney,” Anna said. “It was so you could go on your own vacation. You went skiing, didn't you? Brent says people break all their arms and legs when they go skiing.”

Amy laughed. “What?”

“I'll let you handle this,” David said. “I'll help with the bags.”

He paused to give Amy's sister a hug and then found Jeff unloading the luggage.

“Hey, David.”

“Welcome back, Jeff.”

Jeff rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet, embarrassed. “I hate to say it, David, but I guess I better give you the heads-up. We charged a
lot
of stuff to the room. Just didn't want you to have a heart attack when the credit card bill came in.”

David offered his hand, and they shook.

“Thank you. Thank you for taking my children away from danger. And for bringing them back in one piece.”

A lot happened the next few weeks, most of it good.

Between the FBI's intervention and Bert's full confession as part of his plea bargain, David and Amy were cleared of any wrongdoing in an expedited fashion. The FBI seemed especially pleased to get their hands on Calvin Pope's flash drive. David didn't ask what they planned to do with it but guessed multiple political careers would soon be destroyed or made depending on how well Washington's power brokers could work the spin machine.

David really didn't give a damn.

The doctor told David his damaged eardrum would heal, loss of hearing would be minimal.

David arranged for a repairman to come out to the house and fix the garage door.

The Escalade had been declared a complete write-off. David thought maybe a minivan next. Is that what stay-at-home dads drove these days? More study was needed. He wondered idly if the dealership offered armor and bulletproof glass as options.

On a rainy Sunday morning, David Sparrow served as a pallbearer at Larry Meadows's funeral. The somber event was the single moment of gloom in a time of relative optimism.

David Sparrow had his family back. They were safe.

Very gradually life began to seem normal again, and on the Saturday Amy got the cast off her arm, David dragged the charcoal grill into the backyard for hamburgers, and they ate outside at the picnic table.

“My hamburger is still all red on the inside,” Anna said.

“Mine is red on the inside but hard and black on the outside,” Brent said.

“That just means you need more ketchup,” David told him.

David took everything the day would give him, throwing a football with Brent, blowing bubbles with Anna. The way the hazy orange of the setting sun made Amy's skin glow and lit her hair, creating a halo around her head, reminded David how in love he was with her. The four of them had a life, something good and solid and it took almost losing all of that to remind him he was a lucky man.

He wouldn't take it for granted. Not ever again.

That night, after David tucked the children into bed, he returned to his own bedroom to find Amy already curled under the covers, wearing her circus tent flannel, the covers pulled up to her chin.

David slipped into bed next to her, put an arm around her and pulled her close. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Catching up on briefs,” she said. “You?”

“Nothing. I thought I'd take the kids to the park.”

“I thought you were having lunch with Charlie Finn,” she said. “You were going to buy him Chinese food, and he was going to tell you about his new FBI job.”

“That's Monday.”

David buried his face in her hair and smelled her shampoo. He yawned and said, “You want to fool around?”

“Yeah, baby. Rock my world.”

David began to snore lightly, but Amy didn't hear it because she was already asleep.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

VICTOR GISCHLER
's novels include
Gun Monkeys
(Edgar Award finalist),
Shotgun Opera
(Anthony Award nominee),
Go-Go Girls of the Apocalypse, Vampire a Go-Go
, and
The Deputy
. Gischler created
Dead-pool Corps
for Marvel Comics and spent two years writing
X-Men
. He is currently writing season ten of
Angel & Faith
in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer universe for Dark Horse comics. He lives in Baton Rouge as a stay-at-home-writer/dad with his college professor wife and son. You can sign up for email updates
here
.