The Millionaires (55 page)

As the crowd broke up and continued on its way, the guards huddled around Joey and helped her to a nearby wooden bench.

“Did it fall out on a ride?” the black guard asked.

“Or maybe in one of the restaurants?” the other added.

“Are you sure this isn’t it right here?” the first one asked, pointing to the wallet that stuck out from Joey’s purse.

Joey stopped and looked down. “Oh, God,” she said, forcing a laugh. “I’m so embarrassed… I could’ve sworn it wasn’t there
when I—”

“No worries,” the tall guard said. “I do the same thing with my keys all the time.”

Standing from the bench, Joey thanked the two men and once again apologized. “I really am sorry—next time I’ll be sure to…
uh… to check my purse.”

“Have a nice night, ma’am,” the tall guard said.

Stumbling backwards up the block, Joey stepped into the crowd and let the guards disappear. The instant they were gone, she
spun around, shoved her earpiece back in place, and plowed with a determined gait directly up Main Street.

“Well?” Noreen asked.

“It’s like I always tell you…” Joey began. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a black police radio with the
word
Security
written on it. “Whenever you’re on vacation, you gotta watch out for those pickpockets.”

She turned up the volume and held the radio up to her ear. All she had to do was listen.

W
e can get you out of here, Oliver—all you have to do is have a little faith,” Gallo says, his raspy voice scraping from the
back corner of the silent warehouse.

Tucked down behind the bow of the pirate ship, I shut my eyes and replay the last two days: from the moment we met Gillian…
to our night diving… to everything in between.

“It’s the truth,” Gallo calls out. “Even if you’re afraid to believe it.”

Once again, I listen for Gillian to argue. Once again, she’s nowhere to be found.

“C’mon, Oliver, are you really that surprised? You know what’s at stake—you found the worm…” The way his shoes grind against
the concrete, it sounds like he’s turning down one of the back aisles. “It’s pretty amazing, don’t you think? All from a bit
of computer code. Cut it in half and it just keeps growing back.” Gallo laughs to himself. “When you think about it, that
program is Duckworth’s
real
baby.”

Wherever she is, Gillian doesn’t say a word.

“So what’s with the silence, Oliver? You got your feelings hurt? You’ve never had a knife in your back? Please, son—I met
your bosses at the bank—you’re paid to grab your toes and take it from behind every day. And with all those rich clients who
pretend they like you? You should be an Old Master at being lied to. From that alone, Gillian’s stuff should roll right off.
You had to know her whole background seemed fishy—or did you never bother to wonder where she got a New York accent? Besides,
you’ve only known the girl two days—how upset could you possib—”

Gallo cuts himself off. And once again lets out a deep, throaty laugh.

“
Oh, Oliver
…”

I shut my eyes, but it won’t go away.

“… you really thought she liked you, didn’t you?” Gallo asks.

Sinking down to the ground, I scrape my back against the ship.

In the corner, Gallo stops short and turns around. He knows I’m there. Like the best predators, he can smell the despair.

Within seconds, he heads my way. “So how’d she get you to bite the hook?” he asks, taking way too much joy in the question.
“Was it the bullshit story, or something more physical?”

From the sound of his footsteps, he’s back toward the front of the aisles.

“Let me guess—she fed you the whole orphan thing, then served up the chance-to-date-the-pretty-girl-you-were-afraid-to-ask-to-the-prom
thing for dessert. Add that to all the running around, and suddenly you felt like your whole miserable life was coming alive.
How’m I doing, Oliver? Starting to sound familiar?”

Still stuck on the floor, I trace the volume of his voice. He’s now one aisle over. I should run. But I don’t.

“What about her age?” Gallo adds. “What’d she tell you? Wait… let me guess… Twenty-six? Twenty-seven?” He pauses just enough
to rub it in. “She’s thirty-four, Oliver. Does that break your heart, or just make you feel like a bigger sucker?”

Knowing the answer, I slowly climb back to my feet. I’m not sure where Gallo is. And I’m not even sure I care.

“And let’s not forget the name—Gillian… Gillian Duckworth—pretty good when you consider how quick they had to paste it all
together. Of course, if she used Sherry, no one would’ve known the difference.”

Sherry?

At the front of the aisle, two cheap black shoes turn the corner and slow to a halt. I look down the row. Gallo stares straight
at me. His gun’s up; mine sags at my side. Wearing his typical rat-faced grin, he shakes his head in one last machismo tease.
But the whole time, he’s studying my face.

“You really never even had an inkling, did you, Oliver?”

I don’t answer.

“All this time, you thought you were flying first-class, and then the stewardess slaps you awake and tells you you’re strapped
in with a kamikaze…”

As he reads my reaction, I stare down at the floor. It’s caked in dust. Just like her end table. Charlie said it all along.

“To be honest, I didn’t think they could pull it off,” Gallo adds. “But if you never met her before, I guess there’s no way
you could’ve known she was his wife.”

I quickly pick my head up. “She was
whose
wife?” I blurt, finally breaking my silence.

Gallo smirks at the question. “Oh, c’mon, Oliver—use your brain for once—how do you think we got Duckworth’s program past
Securi—”

Behind Gallo, there’s a deafening boom. Before I even squint, his chest explodes, spraying tiny flicks of blood up the aisle.
I’m a good thirty feet away as the last few bits of blood spit across my face and shirt.

As I look up at Gallo, his eyes are wide open. His body teeters slightly—then slowly falls forward. He hits the ground with
an unnerving thump, but my eyes stay glued straight up the aisle—just beyond Gallo. Gillian stares directly at me—her gun
still pointed my way. I don’t know where she got it, but as she grips it with both hands, a twist of smoke curls from the
barrel.

Lowering her gun, she glances down at the oozing wet hole she’s shot into Gallo’s back.

“Wh-What’re you—What the hell are you doing!?” I shout.

She’s still focused on Gallo—tracing the path of the bullet.

“Gilli—Sherry… whatever your name is—
I’m talking to you!
”

“Watch yourself,” she says, motioning to the body. “Don’t step in the blood.”

I look at her like she’s nuts. “What’re you talking about? What’s wrong with you?”

She points to the door that leads outside. “C’mon, Oliver, we should get out of here…”

“
Don’t move!
” I shout, taking my first step toward her. “Didn’t you hear what Gallo said? It’s over, Gillian—no more bullshit!”

Now she looks at me like
I’m
nuts. “Wait a minute…” she begins. “You don’t think—Don’t tell me you actually believed him. He was
lying,
Oliver.”

No. No more mindgames. “Tell me who you are,” I demand as I move toward her.

“Oliver…”

“
Tell me who you are!
”

She actually has the nerve to cough up an innocent laugh. “Don’t you see what he was trying to do—he just wanted to pit us
against each other, so he cou—”

“Do I really look that gullible to you?”

“Oliver, it’s not about being gullible. Look who you’re listening to—the man was trying to kill us!”

As I charge up the aisle, her words bounce off. From the instant she said my real name, I should’ve swam the other way. That’s
a mistake I made once. Not again. “Your name’s not Gillian. You’re not Duckworth’s daughter. And you certainly don’t give
a crap about me.
Now tell me who you are!
”

Face-to-face, she reaches out to touch my arm. With my gun, I backhand her away. She’s not getting any closer.

Right there, her expression flips. The soothing smile… the innocent blue eyes… they fade and disappear. I notice a deep crease
along her forehead. She shakes her head, like I’ve made a mistake. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Oliver. Just remember, it’s
your choice…”

Raising her gun, she points it at my chest. “Just give me the tapes,” she says coldly.

Refusing to answer, I raise my own gun and aim it at her heart.

She stares down at it, then checks my eyes. I don’t flinch. Grinning, she lets out a shrill, piercing laugh that razor-slices
through me.“
Please
—even on your worst day, you can’t be who you’re not.”

Unmoving, I keep my finger on the trigger.

“Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?” she asks. “Or are you always going to be Oliver—forever the boy who wanted more?”

My jaw shifts off-center, but my gun doesn’t move.

“I know your feelings got hurt, but if it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t all an act,” she adds, suddenly playing nice.
As she shifts her hips, everything I knew about her evaporates. The barefoot hippiechick… the daring free spirit—they’re long
gone. Her shoulders no longer dangle loosely at her sides; now they’re pitched, almost barbed. I don’t know how I missed it
before. But like everything else in my life, I saw what I wanted to see. “I really did have fun with you,” she says, trying
to flip back to sincere mode.

“Really? Which part was more fun—lying to my face, or just betraying my trust? Actually, I keep forgetting… you’re such a
down-to-earth, granola gal, you must like the simple moments—like jamming the sword in my spine.”

“Lash out all you want, Oliver. I meant what I said. You can still get out of here—but not with the tapes—and not with our
money. So why don’t you join us back in reality and put the gun away. We both know who the daredevil is in your family, and
just because you want to play the part, doesn’t mean it’s happening.”

Like that night on the boat, she’s hoping to push my buttons. Too bad for her, all it does is focus me more on Charlie. He’s
next door, alone against DeSanctis. And the only thing stopping me from helping him is Gillian.

I pull back the hammer on my gun. “Get out of my way.”

“Why don’t we start with the tapes…”

“I said, get out of my way.”

“Not until we get—”

“My brother’s in there, Gillian. I’m not asking you again.” My gun’s aimed straight at her chest. My finger tightens around
the trigger. I thought my hand would be shaking. It’s not.

“Enough with the outlaw drama, Oliver. I mean, do you honestly think you have the balls to shoot me?”

It’s a simple question. He’s my brother. “You really don’t know me at all, do you?” I ask her. Without waiting for her answer,
I lower my arm, hold the gun to her knee, and pull the trigger.

The gun fires with a bright flash and a sharp hiss. But instead of screaming or falling to the ground, Gillian just stands
there, a cocky sneer on her face. Confused, I look down at the gun, which is only a few inches from her knee. I pull the trigger
again. The gun goes off with a violent bang—and again, Gillian’s unharmed. I don’t understand.

“Haven’t you ever heard of blanks before?” Gillian gloats. “Sounds and smells real, but when you hold it to your head, the
worst you can do is singe your sideburns.”

Blanks?
My eyes dissect the gun, then go back to Gillian’s sneer.

“To be honest, I’m amazed it took you this long,” she adds.

It doesn’t make any sense. All this time… The gun isn’t even ours—we got it in New York from Gallo—right after he shot—

Oh, God.

On my left, a brand-new shadow slides into the warehouse’s open garage door. When Gallo said he had help, I always assumed
it was Lapidus or Quincy. But never him. I turn as he enters. Just the sight of him is like a meat-cleaver in my stomach.

“Whatsa matter?” Shep asks with his boxer’s grin. “You look like you seen a ghost.”

W
e’re all clear at Pecos Bill,” a voice with a Southern accent squawked through Joey’s radio as she weaved her way through
the Frontierland crowd.