“Promise.”
10
Final Confrontation
The next dayRusty drove Kaylin to work; he needed to deliver files to a former client and could make the trip once she was safe inside the hospital. He didn’t like her going into work at all, but at least she spent most of her time in the locked correctional care unit or in locked surgery rooms—places Jimmy couldn’t get access to. As much as he hated both letting her go and bad clichés, he loved watching her walk away as she went into the building.
Rusty waited in the patient drop-off zone, watching to be sure Jimmy wasn’t skulking around. He’d be stupid to show his face in the hospital; Kaylin worked surrounded by security guards, many of whom Rusty knew from the police force, and he’d sent all of them pictures of Jimmy’s face. NYPD was still looking for him, too. Rusty would deliver the files and then come back before Kaylin’s lunch hour; he’d promised to get her tacos from her favorite place on the other side of Manhattan. He imagined cooking for her every day once her life got back to normal.
He laughed at himself, planning out a life with this girl after only two nights together. What would his army buddies say? They’d say he’d gone soft, but they’d be ones to talk—his former drinking buddies and wingmen now settled down into their two-story houses with lawns to mow and kids to shuttle off to soccer practice on Saturdays. They all thought he’d be the holdout, the one too stubborn and picky and cold to ever settle down with a woman.
They were wrong about him on one front—he wasn’t cold. He wanted someone to love and be loyal to, but he hadn’t found the right person, until now. Kaylin had everything—a girl into comics and Star Wars, accomplished in her career, curvy and hot as hell—and he’d never have found her, folded up as she was in her quiet, hyper-focused life.
Rusty hadn’t driven far when he spotted the black car behind a delivery truck that had turned out onto the road two miles back. This was a sedan, but still sleek enough to be part of a driving company’s fleet. The car fell back, and Rusty veered from his course, heading out of the city to see if the car would follow. He took the bridge out of Manhattan and noticed the black car still on his tail, now about six cars back. Rusty phoned the police on his cell.
He exited the freeway, heading toward a less populated area. He could catch this guy himself. He sped up, and as he expected, the black car accelerated too, exiting behind him and coming up on his tail. Rusty zipped past gas stations and fast food restaurants. He punched the exit number into his phone and sent it to his friend at the precinct. Rusty swerved onto a side street and spotted an abandoned drive-in theater up ahead. He yanked the steering wheel hard and tore into the empty lot, just missing the chain link fence. The black car followed, squealing into place. Rusty jumped out of the car, gun drawn.
The driver didn’t move. Rusty sheltered behind his own door and fired at the tires, popping the three he could get in his line of sight. The car sank into the gravel, hanging lopsided from its surviving tire. The car’s front door opened. Jimmy stepped out, hands raised.
“Get on the ground!” Rusty yelled.
Jimmy kept his hands up and walked away from his car.
“I said get on the ground!”
Jimmy grinned, then sank to his knees.
Rusty had zip ties in his back pocket. He estimated the police would arrive within the next fifteen minutes. He just needed to incapacitate this guy and hold him.
He kept his gun drawn and approached. “Hands behind your head!”
Jimmy locked his fingers behind his head, still grinning.
“Wipe that shit look off your face,” Rusty said. He pulled the zip ties out with one hand, not taking his gun off of Jimmy. He stepped closer, cautiously, but then Jimmy sprang up from the ground, whipping a gun out of his waistband. He fired a wild shot as he scrambled backward. As the bullet hit Rusty’s car, Rusty fired back, missing Jimmy as he fell sideways over his own feet with dumb luck.
“Shit,” Rusty said, both because he’d missed and because Kaylin would never forgive herself—or him—if this asshole died. Rusty holstered his gun and dove at Jimmy before the assailant could get a handle again on his gun.
“Think you can terrorize women? Kidnap them?” Rusty grabbed at Jimmy’s arms, but he scurried out of the way.
“She’s my soulmate!” She’s meant for me!” Jimmy swung, landing a punch on Rusty’s torso, but to no effect.
Rusty towered over Jimmy. “She will never be yours. I’ll make sure of that.”
In an act of desperation, Jimmy pulled a knife and tried to cut down the mountain of a man before him. Rusty dodged the blade with ease, wishing he could just shoot this guy and be done with it. He thought of Kaylin and braced himself. The police would get to his location soon. He just needed to keep him from running away, not that there was far to go. The fence blocked one direction, and the car sagged over its deflated tires. Jimmy kept lunging the knife at Rusty, but every jab was met with a successful parry.
“Just adding years, Jimmy,” Rusty said. “Drop the knife.”
“So you can walk away from here? And keep her all to yourself?!”
“You’re damn right! I’ll always protect her from the likes of you.”
“Shut up!” Jimmy shouted and charged at Rusty, who easily side-stepped him like a matador as the sound of police sirens could be heard from down the interstate.
“Last chance,” Rusty said. “Drop the weapon.”
“Not until I cut you down.” Jimmy ran at Rusty again, ready to gash whatever body part he could strike.
“Dammit!” Rusty braced to protect his body and knock this guy down as the police cars came roaring onto the empty road. He struck Jimmy’s right arm sideways, twisting his wrist and propelling the knife out of his hand and into the dirt. Then, he threw Jimmy’s body over his shoulder and to the ground.
