“You should have brought them with you tonight, Aubrey.”
My belly felt like it was on the loop-the-loops of a rollercoaster. I was nauseous and my knees were shaking. “I’m not going to lie down and die for you.”
“No?”
“You’ll have to catch me first.” And with that, I threw the lantern at Curtis and ran for the stairs.
I heard the crash of the lantern above as I practically flew for safety, feet barely touching the stairs as I moved to the next step. Curtis’s thundering feet rattled the stairs as I reached the second floor. I didn’t turn, didn’t look back. I ran down the hall and threw open the back balcony door. On Wednesday night, after stumbling over Cassidy, when I’d heard Curtis make his escape but was unable to follow, he’d climbed the porch and shimmied down the nearest palm tree to the ground. Now I was about to find out if I could master the same technique. I figured, since my life quite literally depended on it, I’d manage.
I ran onto the porch, throwing the rocker to the floor behind me to slow Curtis if he decided to follow this way, but as I climbed onto the railing and chanced a look over my shoulder, I saw Curtis pause in the doorway before heading to the first floor to cut me off.
Good.
I took a quivering breath and jumped from the second story porch. I slammed into the palm tree and nearly lost my grip before I wrapped my legs tight around the trunk.
Holy Mother of Fuck, what was I thinking?
I swallowed hard and started to shimmy down as quickly as possible, awkward to do as I still clutched the dagger in one hand. When I was close enough to the ground, I jumped safely to the porch. I tripped and fell to my already bruised and scraped knees, swearing loudly as pain shot all along my nerves. I struggled back to my feet.
“Don’t move, Aubrey,” Curtis said, walking out the back door with his pistol aimed at me.
I froze in place. Not a twitch, not a breath.
Curtis cocked the weapon. “I’m sorry about this. I really am.”
“I think you’re full of horseshit,” I managed.
“It’s amilliondollars,” Curtis replied, like I’d agree to him offing me if he just explained it a bit more.
A second gun came into view, pressed against the side of Curtis’s head. “You’re under arrest,” Jun said. “Lower your weapon, now.” He was wearing a jacket that identified him as Key West police, since he didn’t have his FBI gear, but it worked in a pinch.
The standoff lasted maybe another second. Or a minute. Hour? Who fucking knew? All I was concerned about was that there was one gun too many in this triangle of potential death.
But Curtis slowly lowered his gun.
“Drop it,” Jun ordered.
Curtis did.
Tillman came out of the bushes on the right side of the porch with a pair of handcuffs. He snapped them on Curtis’s wrists and started giving the dumb fuck his rights.
Jun glanced at me, the briefest once-over to make sure I was alive and not bleeding profusely, before he moved to join Tillman.
But a gunshot rang out, loud like a crack of thunder during hurricane season. I jumped and put my hands over my ears instinctively, then scanned the area frantically,desperately. Where’d that come from?
Curtis dropped to his knees and fell sideways, blood pooling around him.
Tillman turned to the back door, gun raised, but then I watched him fly off his feet, hitting the porch hard as another crack echoed across the property.
“Drop your weapon!” Jun shouted, raising his gun as Herb appeared from the shadows.
Herb?
Semiretired, waiting to die, crappy tour guide, porno-stashHerb?
“Never let a kid do what you can do yourself!” Herb shouted. He cocked his antique gun and fired point-blank at Jun.
It was like slow motion horror as his body jerked violently and fell.
