Zero at the Bone (50 page)

“Don’t be stupid,” she said.

“What’s stupid? I’d rather die than kill Jack.”

“You do yourself in, D, and I swear no one will ever have suffered the way he will.”

“Bullshit. You cain’t risk the time and energy ta torture him when I’m not around ta witness it, not ta mention the risk of
you
goin’ ta the chair for murderin’ a witness.

Witsec knows who you are, ya know. Jack’s found dead and they be comin’ fer you.”

“You’re willing to bet the rest of his short life on that?”

“Yes,” Jack croaked, his hand wrapped around D’s, his watery eyes fixed on Josey.

D pulled him closer to his chest.

“You’re bluffing,” Josey said, but she didn’t look too sure of that. “I’ll just take the gun back.”

“Wanna find out how fast I can shoot myself before you can get this gun away from me?”

She stood up and paced off a few quick circles. He’d put her off her game, which was about as much as he could hope for at this point. He could feel the wetness of Jack’s blood on his legs, the constant low groans of pain straightening his spine. It was kill Jack or kill himself, and that wasn’t a choice at all. “D,” Jack whispered. He looked down at him, the face of the only person he’d ever loved, his precious life spilling onto the dirty warehouse floor.

He stroked Jack’s hair with his bloodstained free hand. “What, darlin’?” Jack was shaking so violently now that his teeth were chattering. “I don’t regret anything,” he said, his lips twisting like he was trying to smile.

D smiled back. “You the only thing I don’t regret,” he said.

Josey sneered at him. “You won’t do it. You don’t have the guts.” D steeled himself. “Watch me.”

A shot rang out, and for a moment D wondered if he’d shot himself before he meant to, but the shot wasn’t from his gun. He looked and saw one of Josey’s men on the floor.

For the briefest second, everything was suspended; even Jack’s tight-lipped groans of pain were silent.

Then all hell broke loose. The door to the warehouse was kicked in and four Kevlar-wearing men with Marshal’s badges around their necks poured in, shouting for everyone to get down, get down, freeze, throw down their weapons, and other mutually exclusive commands. Another marshal came clattering down the stairs. Gunshots were fired. Josey’s men started falling. One of the agents was spun around with what looked like a shot to the arm.

Josey whirled, snarling, her gun raised. D had put his single bullet between her eyes before he even knew he was going to fire. She fell, eyes wide and staring at them, without another word.

D hugged Jack to his chest and felt like sobbing out loud as Churchill strode into the room. He could have sworn a halo of golden light and a flourish of trumpets accompanied him. The other marshals had three of her men on their knees in cuffs; the other ones looked dead or wounded. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” D kept saying, talking both to Jack and himself. He cupped Jack’s face. “Yer gonna be okay now, doc. Cavalry’s here.” Zero at the Bone | 231

Jack cried out in pain, a little blood coming to his lips. “’Bout fuckin’ time,” he choked out.

D laughed, light-headed with relief. Churchill knelt at their side. “Jesus,” he said.

“He’s shot in the left abdomen,” D said. “He’ll be okay but we gotta get him to a hospital. Got a flesh wound in his calf too.”

“Are you hit?”

“Naw, I’m okay. How’d you fuckin’ find us?”

“Tracker in Jack’s gun. I found it the first day he was at the hotel when I swept for listening devices. I assume you put it there. Made a note of the frequency in case I needed to use it myself. Megan just called me; Petros grabbed her and done a good number on her to keep her out of the way so she knew something was up.” Churchill rattled all this off at lightning-quick speed. D’s brain wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders and he was still catching up to the fact that he and Jack weren’t both about to die.

“Good timin’ there,” was all he could muster.

Churchill grabbed his arm. “D, they’re calling for backup. You’ve got to get out of here, now.”

Jack, who’d been watching them with half-glazed eyes, came back into himself at this. “What?”

“In about three minutes this place is going to be crawling with police, FBI, paramedics and forensics and you can’t be here. I can’t protect you with that much law around.” He handed D his car keys. “Take my car. I saw yours had a flat.” D just stared at the keys. He couldn’t say goodbye to Jack like this, here and now, and leave him bleeding on some godforsaken warehouse floor. “Christ, I cain’t do this. I cain’t jus’ leave Jack like this!”

Jack grabbed his arm. “You have to go,” he said. “D… they can’t find you. You’ve got… all that to do,” Jack said, his halting voice laced with barely suppressed agony.

“You gotta stay free, you gotta go.”

“It’s my turn to look out for him now,” Churchill said.

D nodded helplessly. “Okay, okay… just….” He looked at Churchill helplessly.

“I’ll give you a minute,” he said, and backed off.

D looked down at Jack, staring back up at him with his eyes full of tears. “Didn’t think it’d be like this when we said goodbye,” Jack said.

“Fuck, no,” D choked out.

“I’ll be okay,” Jack said, an obvious effort going into making the words clear and distinct.

D pressed his forehead to Jack’s, wishing he could just pass his thoughts and feelings directly into Jack’s brain without having to resort to inadequate words, for which he’d never had a talent anyway. “Jack,” he whispered, drawing back to look in his eyes again. “You been the fullest, luckiest blessin’ a my life,” he said, seeing tears drip onto Jack’s upturned face.

Jack was clutching handfuls of D’s shirt. “I love you,” he croaked.

“I’ll see you again,” D said, trying to sound certain and emphatic but fearing he only sounded pleading.

“I’ll be waiting.” Jack pulled him down again and for a few too-long, too-short moments they said nothing, breathing each other in for the last time. D eased Jack down onto the warehouse floor and knelt at his side, a shaky breath escaping him as he pressed his face to Jack’s chest for a moment, feeling Jack’s hand rest on the back of his head. He met Jack’s eyes one final time and they both nodded, as if something had been resolved, 232 | Jane Seville

then D hauled himself to his feet and turned away, walking as fast as he could toward the door, hearing Jack call his name just one time before the warehouse door closed behind him.

Zero at the Bone | 233

THE first thing Jack was aware of was the breeze. The cold breeze. There was a hurricane-force arctic wind blowing straight up his nose. He raised a hand, which felt like it was encased in concrete, and batted at that damned breeze only to encounter a plastic mask strapped to his face. “Urf,” he said, not really sure what word he meant it to be, since what he really wanted to say was “get this goddamned oxygen mask off my face.”

“Someone’s awake,” said a woman’s voice. A face appeared over him and removed the mask. “Can you hear me, Jack?”

“Mmm,” he said, nodding. He looked around. Hospital, machines, tubes, people in scrubs. “M’I having surgery?” he babbled.

The nurse smiled. “You’ve already had it. You’re in the recovery room. Just lie still, okay? Try to relax and let your body wake up.” Jack blinked, consciousness returning. “What time’s it?” She checked her watch. “Almost six.”

“Still Sunday?”

“Yep, still Sunday.”

Jack didn’t have the energy for any more questions. He lay back against the pillows and let his eyes close, then popped them open again. He didn’t like what he saw when they were closed.

D with a gun to his own head. D holding him, crying, shouting. D saying goodbye,
D walking away.
Jack stared at the ceiling, but the image of D’s face had followed him from behind his eyelids and he was still seeing it. Looked like he’d be seeing it whether he liked it or not.

He didn’t feel a thing in his side, where Josey had shot him. He imagined he’d feel it plenty later when the drugs wore off.
I was shot. Twice. Huh. Imagine that.
The thought held little power. So he’d been shot. Great.

It had been a strange sensation. At first there hadn’t been any pain, just this tremendous pressure and then hot warmth, wetness on his skin, and then he was looking at the ceiling of the warehouse… and
then
the pain had hit, rolling over him like some kind of earth-moving equipment, squashing rational thought and pulverizing his resolve.

He couldn’t really remember. Pain was like that. It was so intense when it was happening, but later you couldn’t really recall the exact sensation.

He wanted D. He wanted him to walk in the room and smile that little slantwise smile, cutting his eyes to the side and back again. He just wanted to hold his hand, that was all.

But he couldn’t have that, because D was gone. For the foreseeable future.

234 | Jane Seville

For weeks—months, even—this had been looming. The Separate Time. The Time of No D. They’d both known it was ahead, but it had always seemed so vague, like it would someday come but never
really
come. Even this past weekend, when it had been breathing down their necks, it hadn’t felt quite real.

But now it was here. It was real. Jack had been rudely thrust into it without any kindness or consideration. He’d always assumed there’d be
time.
Time to say things, do things, discuss things, time to
prepare.
Once, there had been all the time in the world.

Then the marshals were drugged and there were car chases and somehow they were saying goodbye on a dirty warehouse floor, Jack’s blood on D’s face, and it was
there.

Ugly and demanding and ready to rip them apart, grind them up and let them wonder how long it would last.

Jack drifted off, feeling only relief as oblivion claimed him again.

WHEN he woke again, it was morning. He was in a regular hospital room, and Churchill was sitting in a chair next to the bed, reading the paper. “Hey,” Jack croaked.

Churchill jumped and tossed the paper aside. “Hey yourself,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

Jack wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. “Uh… all right, I guess.” He tried to sit up a little but that sent a bolt of pain up his left side and he flopped back down again.

“Been better.”

“Well, the doctors say you came through the surgery fine. The bullet went through you. Tore you up a bit, but they fixed it. You got lucky.” Jack shook his head. “Wasn’t luck. She shot me that way on purpose.” Churchill frowned. “What do you mean?”

I mean, she meant for me to slowly bleed to death while she tortured me, until D

couldn’t take it anymore and killed me to put me out of my misery. That’s what I mean.

He flapped a hand. “Doesn’t matter.” He sighed. “Is it Monday?”

“Yep. And just as soon as your doctors say you’re stable enough, we’re moving you to Albany just like we planned. I’m hoping that’s within a few days here.” Jack didn’t want to leave Baltimore. This was where they’d last been together, where he’d last seen him. The last place D would know where he was. Once he left that link would be cut, and they’d both be finally, truly alone.

Churchill leaned forward, his face sympathetic. “I know you’re probably feeling ambivalent about that.”

“I know it’s time.”

Churchill was staring at his hands. “I’m so sorry, Jack,” he murmured.

Jack frowned. “What for?”

“They never should have been able to get to you,” he said in a rush. “Witsec has never lost a witness who followed the rules, never. I’ve never had anyone compromised.” Jack sighed. “It was my understanding that Witsec had never lost a witness who’d actually been relocated. I was still in limbo. Besides, they were after D, not me.”

“Still. My security was inadequate.”

“No security is adequate if they’re determined enough,” Jack said. “And they were.”

“I just… you’re hurt, and what you went through…. I’m just sorry, is all.” Jack smiled. “Thanks.” A sudden thought occurred. “Hey, is Megan okay?” Zero at the Bone | 235

“Yeah. She was supposed to call nine-one-one but she must have passed out before she could. We were able to find her with the GPS in her phone because she’d left it on.

She just needed some blood and fluids; she’ll be okay.” He hesitated. “Petros cut her up pretty bad. She looks like she went five rounds with a grizzly bear.”

“She saved our lives. If you hadn’t come when you did… D was about to shoot himself.”

Churchill leaned forward. “Why was he going to do that?” Jack struggled to sit up again; Churchill rose and helped him, propping pillows behind his back and taking his seat again once Jack was settled. “Because,” Jack said, staring at his hands, “Josey wanted him to kill me, and I made him promise he wouldn’t, no matter what. It was the only way he could take away what she wanted.”

“Which was?”

“Him suffering. He was like a doll she was taking apart just to see it in pieces. Only thing to do was take the doll away.” Jack shook his head, tears fuzzing his vision. “It was all going to be over, right there. Jesus.” He pressed the fingers of one hand to his face.