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"You’re the one who’s lost the fight." He narrow his gaze on me, "Lower the gun, son."
Son? He dares call me son after everything he’s done to our family? Bile bubbles up my throat and I swallow it down. I glance from him to her, then back at his face.
"Do it," he warns. "If you want her to survive this, you’ll lower the gun."
"If you let her walk away, I’ll hand myself over."
"No, Michael," Karma bursts out, and he must push the gun into her head, for she winces again.
Anger coils in my belly, my vision narrows, adrenaline laces my blood, and I force myself to uncurl my fingers from where they have pressed down on the trigger. "Let her walk away, now," I insist, "and I won’t fight this."
"Lower your gun first," he says in a cold voice. "Don’t forget, I am the one who taught you the game that you now insist on playing."
I glare at him and he doesn’t blink. My father’s features are set in lines that I find familiar. He means it. He won’t hesitate to shoot her. The only way out is to show him that I am willing to comply, for the moment. I lower my gun, and he jerks his chin. "Place it on the ground."
I follow his instructions, then straighten.
"Now kick it toward me."
I do so, and he nods.
"Now let her go."
"No," he drawls, "I am going to shoot her, then you."
"Wait," I burst out, "the man I interrogated and who said that it was the Kane company who'd put him up to rigging the car, was that your doing?"
His lips twist, "What do you think?"
"I don’t know..." I draw in a breath.Delay him, delay him.Just until I've gathered myself together. Just until I find a way to get him to release Karma. "If it was, then that was sheer genius. It derailed us from going after the real culprit."
"Me," he bites out the word with satisfaction writ into his features.
He holds my gaze and I can read the intent. I know he’s going to do it. He's going to pull the trigger on her, on my Beauty, my soul, my wife. My everything. All of my muscles tense and I lean forward on the balls of my feet, ready to throw myself at him, when the screech of brakes sounds from behind me.
He glances past me and I yell, "Hit the ground, Karma."
I lunge toward my gun, but before I can reach it, a shot rings out.
There’s a hoarse cry. I grab the gun, raise it to find Karma is on the ground, her arms over her head and smoke rising from a hole in the center of my father’s chest. It’s smoking, but there’s no blood. Motherfucker. He’s wearing a protective vest. Of course, he is. There’s only one way to kill this guy.
He raises his gun, fires, and something slams into my left shoulder. Pain slices through me, burns a path down my arm. I raise the gun with my other arm, pull the trigger, and again.
Blood blooms from a hole in the center of his forehead, and a second from the hole in his throat. He seems almost surprised. Then his body begins to tumble forward. I race toward Karma, grab her under my arm, swing her up and to the side. My father’s body crashes to the ground where she was.
A trembling grips her and I pull her close as I stare at the man who was my father.
He betrayed me… Hell, he had been betraying me my entire life. At each turn, I had forgiven him, because he was my blood. Was he right? Was it because I am too emotional that I couldn’t see what he really was? Is that why I couldn’t stop him before he killed my brother?
A coldness grips my chest. I stare at the fallen body of my father and a buzzing sound fills my senses.
"Mika, are you okay?"
Specks of black infiltrate the corners of my vision as I gaze down at her.
"Karma?"
She glances at my features, then down to my left shoulder.
