One to Save (One to Hold 6)
“I’m not your son.”
“Well, biologically speaking—”
“I don’t have a father.” Slayde’s fists tighten again, and I remember his signature move. High-volume punching. “The man who raised me was a fucked up bastard, and you were nothing more than a sperm donor.”
Robert frowns. “I wanted to be there for you. I followed all your fights, all your matches. I was so proud of you.”
“Once I was an adult. Where were you when I needed you? When I was seven years old being beaten for leaving a fucking Lego on the floor? When I was locked in a closet for hours for not knowing how to make breakfast?”
“My cousin was a fucked up loser,” Robert snaps, and for a moment, I see a glimmer of the old Slayde reflected in his face. “Trust me. If he hadn’t died already—”
“He was an alcoholic who was broken after the love of his life died.” Slayde’s demeanor shifts like sand, and I can see how he’s changed since I faced him in the courtroom. “At least now I understand why he hated me so much.”
“It doesn’t excuse what he did to you.”
“I never said it did, but you knew about it. You knew who I was and what I was going through. You never did a thing to help me.”
“How could I?” Robert holds his hands open in a plaintiff gesture that makes me sick. “I was in no position to raise a kid. I was alone and not in a good place myself when Megan died.”
“You could’ve sent the cops. You could’ve done something to help me.”
Bennett shakes his head, and I see the crazy rage spark in his eyes. “NO! This isn’t about me. This is about HIM!” He waves his arm at me. “You survived. You made it out of there and made a name for yourself. You were a star, a rising legend!”
“I was a broken loser just like the drunk who raised me.” Slayde’s shoulders droop. “I was so full of rage. I went through money like it didn’t matter. I went through women like they were worthless whores.”
“Until Derek Alexander ended your life.”
Slayde’s head snaps up at that. “He didn’t end my life. He started the chain of events that helped me find peace. It’s more than you ever did.”
Bennett lunges forward now. “How can you say that? You don’t know him like I do!” Sneering in my direction, his level of hatred for me is stunning. “He struts arou
nd here like some fucking hotshot, like he’s some king.”
I would argue, but I’m feeling my injury. My wind is cut in half.
“You’re just trying to assuage your own guilt,” Slayde murmurs.
“It’s time the king was dethroned.”
“What are you talking about?” Slayde’s voice is an echo in my ears. Bennett’s hand is in his coat, and I see the gun as he pulls it from his pocket.
“You are fucking... NO!” Slayde shouts, making a lunge toward the man.
A BLAST! rings out, and I flinch, anticipating the bullet wound. In the hair’s breath of a second, I know it could very well be more than my body could handle in my current state. Slayde is young and strong, but if it hits him in the chest, in the heart...
Gunfire is a sharp, staccato sound. It ends almost as fast as it begins, leaving you to wonder if it truly was a gun. Could it have been fireworks? A car backfiring? No, cars don’t backfire in these days of computer-controlled starters
My first thought upon all these reflections is I’m in shock.
My second is I haven’t been hit.
Looking up, I realize Slayde is standing in the center of my office as well, seeming stunned. On the floor in front of him, the man claiming to be his father is crumpled into a heap. A thick, blackish pool is forming around him, and I realize he didn’t shoot at all. Bennett was the victim here.
Wresting control of my scattered thoughts, I look up, and in the hallway, I see her standing there. In her hand is the small pistol Stuart put in my boot the night he dressed me in Kevlar and sent me out to meet our unknown blackmailer. I’d given him the small gun back, and he’d put it in his desk, where for the first time since she’d been a part of our team, our weakest link took control of the situation and changed it for the better.
Nikki shot Bennett just as he was attempting to shoot me. Now he’s on the floor at Slayde’s feet, writhing in pain, and my secretary stands, blue eyes huge, shivering in the reception area.
* * *