Texas Bodyguard--Luke, page 17
“You could’ve come after me right away. Could’ve put my name back on the news, offered a larger reward—”
“No. That wouldn’t do.” He shook his head. “You had to believe that I believed it—which meant releasing that detective’s wife, as much as I hated doing so.”
At least that part had worked. “Why let her go?” she asked. “If you knew it was all a trick?”
“Detective Arellano had outlived his usefulness—and I couldn’t run the risk of him alerting you. I let him leave town with his wife, let him leave and never come back. I don’t care very much.” He snickered. “It’s not like anyone would believe his story anyway...”
Where were the guys? Where were the guards?
Where was she on the decryption?
She licked her parched lips. “We could back him up, you know.”
“You won’t be alive long enough to back him up, Claire.” He laughed softly, but there was a hardness in his eyes. That hardness was always there. It always had been. She had only tried to ignore it back in the day when he was nothing but her boss.
He had always been empty.
“You think you’re going to kill me now?” She snickered the way he had. Let him see how good it felt to be laughed at. “You’ve tried all this time... You think you’ll succeed now?”
“You were stupid enough to walk in here and make it easy for me.” He threw his hands into the air with a dramatic sigh. “Come on, Claire, I know you. I know everything about you. Which was why I knew you couldn’t have been brave enough to face those men if you weren’t absolutely certain they wouldn’t kill you.”
“I wasn’t certain... The other one could’ve shot me. And the fall from the bridge could’ve—”
His sharp bark of laughter cut her off. “Please. A cowardly thing like you? Sure, you might take a risk to avoid capture, but we both know you would’ve collapsed and trembled like a leaf if you hadn’t gone into that situation with at least a fair degree of certainty of your success.”
Before she had the chance to tell him off, he continued, “I know everything there is to know about you. Don’t you understand that by now? How did you think I was able to track down your former foster families?”
A lump lodged in her throat. She pressed her lips together to keep from letting out a sob.
The corners of his mouth twitched, and she realized he enjoyed watching her suffer in silence.
“I know your pain points. I know your weaknesses. Information is my stock-in-trade, Claire. You ought to know that by now. Isn’t that what this is all about?”
“Information?”
“And the power it holds. Mind you, only the right sort of person can wield that power. Only they can take that information and turn it into something useful. Even the sharpest blade is nothing in the hands of a rube.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You will keep nothing in mind.” His playful, toying expression shifted, hardened.
He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a semiautomatic. “Though I’m glad we had this time together, Claire...really, I am. I wanted to explain myself to you before bringing an end to your useless little life.”
“Useless?” She forced herself to not flinch away from the sight of the gun and maintain eye contact. “I created the program you’re going to use to steal that all-powerful information you have such a craving for. How does that make me useless?”
“Because you would’ve left it lying there! All that knowledge. All that power. Right within your grasp, and you would’ve let a golden opportunity pass you by! Too concerned with honesty and integrity and all the pretty words people use to mask their weakness. Their aversion to doing what needs to be done to get them what they want.”
“I didn’t want that. Neither did Julia.”
“Which is why you are both expendable. The world is no place for the weak, Claire. I’m only culling the herd.”
She went cold when he raised the gun and leveled it at her. His hand trembled, but only slightly. He would make the shot.
Which was when the sweetest sound in the world met her ears.
The soft chime of a program reaching its conclusion.
There was no holding back her smile. “Thank you, Mr. Ballard.”
His brow furrowed, his gun still pointed at her chest. “For what?”
“For giving my decryption program the time it needed to complete its job.”
It was all worth it.
The terror. The running. The pain. Knowing her life could end at any time.
It was worth it just to watch the brief flash of fear wash over his face.
“You’re lying.” He lowered the gun but charged at her anyway, shoving her aside and bending over the laptop. “What have you done?”
“What I came here to do.” She eyed the tablet, willing somebody to come. Quickly.
“Which was?”
“You knew I recorded Julia’s murder.” She spat the last word. “You knew somebody was watching from another terminal. I bet you tried to find the file, too. But even you couldn’t manage that. But little old me...? I hid it where you’d never think to look—and even if you did, you’d never recognize it after encryption or know how to decrypt it yourself. Always using other people to make up for your inadequacies.”
This was almost fun, and it might’ve been if the question of whether the Pattersons had survived didn’t hang over her.
Whether Luke had survived.
“No. No! What have you done to it?” He pocketed the gun. His hands flew in a blur over the keys while curses poured from his mouth.
“What have I done to you, you mean?” Yes, she had strength now, the strength she’d always possessed. Only it was a lot easier to let it show while the monster in front of her fell apart.
She watched as he floundered. Nobody could ever have explained how satisfying it would be to watch him panic this way.
“I should thank you for coming up here to see me, since that was what gave me the time I needed to finish running the program. I knew once I started asking questions, you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. You would have to grandstand.”
“Quiet,” he growled, still working and breathing hard.
“What are you trying to do? Delete the file? Destroy it? What about the external drive hooked up to the machine? It has all the files Julia sent me. All the proof of what you planned to do with our app. You should try to destroy that, too, before the information falls into the wrong hands.”
He swore again. “You’ll pay for this, Claire Wallace.”
“You first.”
He stood upright, taking a step back from the machine when the display changed.
There were now only four words on an otherwise black screen.
“What does that mean?” His eyes were wide and oh so panicked when his head snapped around. “What did you do?”
“You did it.” She jerked her chin toward the laptop. “You tripped the program I created. All you had to do was keep your hands off and there wouldn’t be anything but files on that machine. Just there, nowhere else.”
“And now?” he bellowed, his face red and sweat rolling down his neck.
“Now you’ve sent the files to the entire San Antonio Police Department.”
Panic turned to horror. “No...you’re bluffing.”
“Julia’s murder. The files she sent me with your intentions to steal data from your clients. It’s all there, and now they have it.”
“Lies!”
“Wait and see. I expect they’ll be opening their email anytime now. It won’t take long for the police to come knocking.” When he only stared at her in slack-jawed surprise, she shrugged. “I know you, too, Mr. Ballard. I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave well enough alone. You’re the one who delivered your own death blow, you monster. I hope it was all worth it.”
He shook his head as his body began to tremble. “Lying,” he murmured. “Buying time.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Just wait and see.”
They stood that way for what felt like forever but might have lasted no longer than moments. Eye-to-eye. She would never forget the thrill of knowing she’d taken him down. Of watching realization begin to dawn when she didn’t flinch, didn’t falter.
He knew she was telling the truth.
Which was why he reached into his pocket for the gun and leveled it at her chest. “You’re dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
It had been too long.
He’d left Claire alone for far too long.
“Luke, slow down.” Weston took the stairs behind him, urging him in a soft voice.
Easy for him to say. Could Weston slow it down if it meant leaving the woman he loved unguarded for even a minute?
He didn’t take the time to answer; instead, he opened the door to Claire’s floor and swept over the area in front of him with narrowed eyes. It looked empty, just as it had been before.
But something was different.
The air...there was a charge in it. Someone else was there, out of sight.
Claire was talking. He could just make out the sound of her voice. And while Luke wouldn’t put it past her to hold a full conversation with the cat—
He took off, moving as swiftly as he was able while staying silent.
He should’ve known. How had he not seen this happen?
His gun was drawn; the sound of his brothers whispering in his ear as they kept track of one another’s locations was mere background noise as he zeroed in on his target.
And the man who’d just aimed a gun at her chest.
“You’re dead,” Ballard spat.
Luke took it all in at once, all in the time it took his heart to beat.
Ballard looked like death, which was fitting considering who he was and what he’d done. Soaked in sweat, shaking, chalky.
And Claire. In spite of the semiautomatic that was now pointed at her chest, she looked...
Triumphant.
Luke mimicked Ballard’s position, aiming at the man’s head. He didn’t want to have to go that far, especially since he didn’t want to take the risk of Claire being shot, but if it meant distracting Ballard long enough to spare her life, then he’d stop at nothing.
Which, he feared, was Ballard’s mode of thinking as well. He would stop at nothing to end Claire’s life.
“Ballard. It’s over.”
Ballard turned his head just enough to take in the sight of Luke aiming at him. “You’re right. It is. But not for me.”
“Yes. For you.” Ballard returned his gaze to Claire. “Hey, I’m talking to you,” Luke barked. “Look at me, Vance.”
Ballard snorted. “Don’t turn that tactical knowledge on me. Using first names, trying to talk sense. Letting me believe you’re on my side, that this can all end well. We both know it won’t.”
“I need you to look at me, Ballard.” If he felt more comfortable with last names, then so be it. “You’re right. We both know this won’t end well. But you’ll only make it worse if you shoot her.”
“Worse?” Ballard laughed—it had an edge to it, threatening to cross over into something like madness. “Worse than what? If what she told me is true and the entire police department has the files now, I’m finished. But I can at least know I made her pay. I can take that memory with me, at least.”
“You wanna make her pay?” Luke glanced at Claire just long enough to take in the sight of her, trembling and wide-eyed. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Ballard longer than that.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah. I guess I would, if I were you. I’d want to make the person responsible for my downfall suffer for what they did to me.”
“We can agree on that, then.”
“But killing her isn’t the answer. I’m serious,” he insisted when Ballard laughed again. “You end her life, it’s over. It’s finished. She’s gone. That’s not suffering, is it?”
Ballard was silent, though the gun remained unmoving.
“Now, shooting me? Killing me? That’s suffering.”
“No,” Claire whispered.
Luke shot her a look. This wasn’t the time for her to try to be heroic.
“Are you listening, Ballard? Do you hear what I’m saying? You shoot me and she’ll suffer.”
“Why would she?” There was that sneer Luke had expected. “Don’t tell me the two of you are in love.”
“I’ve loved her since we were kids. You were right,” Luke admitted with a sigh. “There was a connection. Thanks to a convenient name change when I was adopted, there was no way for you or your men to figure out how we knew each other. Your instincts were right on the money, though. I’ve loved her since we met in a foster program years ago. She remembered me and came to me for help.”
“I thought so.”
“Yeah, you’re a smart guy.” Luke looked at the gun in Ballard’s hand. “I love her, and I think she might love me, too. But even if she doesn’t, you know her well enough to know that she’ll blame herself for the rest of her life for getting me killed. Do you see what I’m saying? Kill her now, and it’s over.”
Luke pointed his pistol at the ceiling, his other hand raised at shoulder-height. “Vance. Look at me.”
“Don’t do this!” Claire begged.
“Quiet.” He maintained his focus on Ballard. It didn’t matter at this point whether he aimed at the man or not. Getting a shot off at Ballard would still put Claire in danger—he might squeeze the trigger as his body reacted to being shot.
Luke could just about see the wheels turning in the man’s head.
He wanted to hurt Claire; he wanted to see her suffer.
Wanted to watch her die in front of him for taking away everything he’d ever held dear. All his power. His prestige.
“Shoot me and she’ll crumple like a dry leaf,” Luke promised. “And let’s face it, Vance. I’m just as responsible for this as she is. More so, even. If it wasn’t for me, she never would’ve made it this far. You would’ve caught her long before now and put an end to this. I’m the one who hid her. I’m the one who worked the fake-out with the detectives.”
“And you know what?” he concluded with a grim smile. “I loved every second of it, because it meant giving you what you deserve—making you pay for what you’ve done.”
Ballard looked from Claire to Luke and back again.
The gun didn’t move. Didn’t even tremble.
It wasn’t working. None of what Luke tried was working.
“Stop trying to play the hero, Patterson.” Ballard snickered. “I’m not impressed with your mind games. And if you’re responsible for this, then you deserve to suffer just as much as she does. I think making you watch her die before you do should be apt punishment.”
“No!” Luke shouted and lunged, knowing he wouldn’t be fast enough.
He wasn’t fast enough.
But someone else was.
Khan.
“What the—” Ballard let out a cry of pain and surprise when claws dug into his arm. The cat had leaped from the backpack to protect his owner, latching onto Ballard’s gun arm, and holding on for all he was worth.
And that was all the time Luke needed.
He threw himself at Ballard, driving him to the floor where they landed in a tangle of arms and legs.
The man barely noticed since a cat who thought he was a dog still held on tight, claws sinking through Ballard’s sleeve. “Get it off! Get it off!” he screamed.
Luke pried the cat free and set him loose while he pinned Ballard to the floor. “You’re finished,” he spat, disgust and rage finally coming to the surface now that Claire was out of this monster’s crosshairs.
“No!” Ballard struggled, still holding the gun now pinned between them. He kicked, screamed, bucked in the effort to throw Luke off him. “No, this isn’t how it ends!”
Luke took hold of his wrist, pressing hard with two fingers just below the heel of his hand. No matter how a person fought to hold their grip on an object, there was no fighting that pressure point.
Ballard’s hand fell open long enough for Luke to snatch the weapon away. He slid it across the floor before delivering a sharp blow to Ballard’s jaw, knocking him unconscious.
It was over.
What a weak, pathetic monster he’d turned out to be.
“What do you think you’re doing?” A familiar pair of thugs ran from the corner office with their guns drawn—it had to be Ballard’s, Luke realized, and probably had a separate entrance. That was how he’d managed to get up here without them knowing about it.
Weston had been waiting by the stairwell all along and jumped into action, followed by Chance and Brax.
When one of the thugs aimed at Chance, Weston drove his head into the man’s stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs before they both hit the floor. He took the man by the wrist and slammed his hand against the floor once, then twice, before the gun fell free.
Chance and Brax made quick work of the second attacker, who quickly realized he was no match for two skilled gunmen at once. He raised his hands, dropping his pistol. He might have even looked relieved that it was all over. Chance zip-tied him while Weston did the same with his thug.
Claire. Where was she?
Luke stood, allowing his brothers to make short work of the unconscious Ballard. He looked around, his chest heaving. “Claire?” he panted. “Where’d you go?” There hadn’t been any shots fired. What could’ve happened?
She emerged from under one of the nearby desks with Khan in her arms. “Is it over?”
Emotion swelled in his chest. He nodded, opening his arms. “It’s over. Thanks to that attack cat you’re holding.”
Weston laughed. “There I was, wondering if it was a good idea for you to bring him with us.”
