At least I'd killed Alexis James first. Finn and Roslyn would be safe now, assuming Stephenson hadn't already shot them. The pudgy police captain didn't look so good.
His breath came out in ragged gasps, and sweat rolled down his forehead like he was standing in the shower.
The giant looked at me, then at Alexis's still body. He pulled a white handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit and mopped some of the nervous moisture off his beefy face.
"I can't believe you killed her. You did me a favor, you know?" he said. "I wish I'd never gotten involved with that psychotic bitch. But she had pictures of me with a girl.
I couldn't say no to her, to any of it. "
More confirmation Alexis had been blackmailing Stephenson and further affirming my opinion that blackmail was the lowest form of arm-twisting.
"And then she promised me more. More money, more girls, anything I wanted. And all I had to do was find you, kill you . . . "
He was babbling, but I didn't say anything. The longer he kept talking was the longer I kept breathing. My eyes flicked to the ground. One of my knives lay about two feet off to my right. I might be able to lunge for it and throw it at Stephenson before he shot me. I tensed. Only chance I had.
But Stephenson wasn't completely gone. He saw I wasn't paying attention to his ramblings. His eyes sharpened. "But this will fix it," he said. "This will fix everything.
I'll say you killed Alexis, and I killed you. It'll work. I can make it work. "
Stephenson raised his gun-I dived forward, going for my knife and trying to get out of the path of the bullet- A shot rang out, then five more in rapid succession-
My head snapped up. Stephenson towered over me. He teetered to one side, then toppled to the ground like a mighty oak that had been felled by a lightning strike. I saw three small, neat wounds in back of the police captain's skull. The same place Brutus had wanted to shoot me a few days ago. Three more holes leaked blood in the giant's back: two in his kidneys, one in his heart. I raised my eyes to the man who'd been standing behind the giant. The one who still had his gun raised.
Donovan Caine.
He walked over to Stephenson's body and stared down at his dead captain. His hazel eyes darkened, his face drooped, and his whole body just sagged. Once again, the detective reminded me of Atlas, bearing so much on his lean shoulders.
I sat up, too tired and bloody to do anything else. I'd carried my share of the load tonight too.
Donovan's hazel eyes flicked to me, then to Alexis James's body. He moved toward me, gun still clenched in his hand. I reached down and palmed my knife. I wasn't going to let the detective kill me. Not because of Cliff Ingles. Not because of anything.
Survival no matter what. The very first lesson Fletcher had taught me. One I'd learned even before I'd met the old man.
Even if killing Donovan Caine would extinguish whatever light might still be left inside me. Caine stopped about three feet away from me. "You killed her. You killed Alexis. "
I didn't say anything.
"How did you do it?" he asked. "I saw her magic. She was lighting up the whole quarry with it. And the wind you could hear the wind screaming. How did you avoid it?"
"I got lucky. " My voice was weak and raspy.
"Alexis is dead. Stephenson's dead. Which means our truce is officially over. " Donovan Caine raised his gun, pointing it at my forehead. My hand tightened around the hilt of the knife. "You killed my partner. "
I didn't say anything. If he started to pull the trigger, it was over. I'd stab him and leave his body here with the others. I'd deal with Finn and Roslyn and the cops and the consequences later, along with my emotions.
"You're an assassin, everything that's wrong with this city, everything I hate. " The detective tightened his grip on the gun. "I should kill you right here, right now. Do the city, the world, a favor. "
I wondered if he thought killing me would be a public service. If the mayor would give him a medal for it. My chapped, blistered lips twitched, and I wanted to laugh.
Funniest damn thought I'd had all day. Hell, all week.
The silence stretched out between us. Seconds that felt like a lifetime.
Caine lowered his gun. "But I can't. I can't kill you. I feel something for you. Lust, gratitude, curiosity, I don't know what the fuck it is, but it won't let me kill you, no matter what you've done. So what does that make me?"
"A good man," I said in a soft voice.
Caine shook his head. "No. It just makes me stupid. " He threw down his gun and walked away.