Feliks paused in front of me, his features as sharp as I remembered. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.
“Ms. Donovan,” he said in a low voice. I flinched as he picked a piece of lint fuzz from my shoulder. “I admit to being surprised to see you. Ekatarina tells me I have you to thank for recovering my stolen property.”
I cast a meaningful look at Charlie. “It seems your associate would prefer to take the credit.”
“Would he?” Feliks turned. He slid his hands into his pockets, the lapels of his suit coat spreading just enough around them to reveal the butt of the gun holstered at his side. “A fascinating development, considering myassociatehas been avoiding me for several days. Have you not received my messages, Charles?”
Charlie’s scar twisted around a tight smile. “I’ve been a little busy.”
“It seems you have.” Feliks held out a hand. “My files, if you please.”
Charlie held Feliks’s stare. His index finger twitched against the gun he gripped at his side.
“My money’s on Charlie,” Vero said in an exaggerated low voice.
“Are you sure?” I whispered loud enough to be heard. “Because Charlie’s kind of outnumbered.”
“True, but there are fourteen million bucks at stake here, Finn, and he really,reallywants that money.”
“Shut up!” Charlie growled.
I ignored him. “This is Feliks Zhirov we’re talking about, Vero.”
“True. But Charlie clearly came here with a plan. IfIwas him, I’d be thinking about how to get rid of the muscle by the door. That would even the odds, and then he’d definitely have the advantage because of all his police training and whatnot. He could take the key to Feliks’s crypto, destroy the evidence on the flash drive, and take credit for single-handedly taking out one of the FBI’s most wanted—”
“I said shut up!” Charlie shouted. “I can’t think!”
Feliks took a step closer to him. “I fail to understand what there is to think about. I asked for the files.”
I leaned toward Vero. “That’s a pretty compelling argument.”
“I think Charlie’s going to cave,” Vero agreed. “He’s been taking orders from the Russian mob for so long, he’s probably forgotten how to—”
Charlie moved fast, firing two quick rounds across the room into Feliks’s bodyguard. The man crumpled by the door.
Charlie turned the gun on Feliks. Feliks’s hand didn’t make it to his holster before the nose of Charlie’s Magnum was pressed against his boss’s forehead.
Feliks went still. He raised his hands very slowly. Everyone in the house seemed to be holding their breath. Kevin Bacon whimpered.
“She wasn’t wrong,” Charlie said through his teeth. “Iwasgetting pretty tired of taking orders from you.” Vero and I jumped as he pulled the trigger. Feliks fell to the floor, his eyes wide and sightless below the small hole that remained.
Vero gripped my hand. “That was definitely not in the script,” she said quietly.
Charlie wiped the sweat from his lip. His shocked laugh was joyless as he lowered his weapon. He stooped to pick up Feliks’s gun, holstering his own. “Sounds to me like you had it all figured out, Finlay. That’s what they pay you for, right? To write a good story?” He shook his head as he watched the slick red halo of blood spread over the floor. “I wasn’t planning to kill anyone,” he admitted. “Hell, all I wanted was the flash drive and a one-way ticket out of the country. But I think I like your version of the story better.” He released the magazine of Feliks’s gun, checking the rounds. “You’re right,” he said, snapping it back in place. “It’s so much better this way. Now I get everything—the money, the respect. I can already see the headlines…Retired Detective Neutralizes FCPD’s Biggest Threat.” His arm made a slow sweep of the air, as if he were reading the headline off a marquee.
“You seem pretty proud of yourself for someone who was shitting his pants a few minutes ago,” Vero said.
“Why shouldn’t I be? I just accomplished what the FBI and the FCPD have all been wishing they could do for years. Feliks Zhirov is no longer a menace to the community. He won’t be a drain on the department anymore. That, at least, will be a small comfort to Nick when I tell him I didn’t get here in time to save the rest of you.” Charlie pointed Feliks’s gun at us. We backed into the wall. Nowhere to run. I held my breath, listening for the sound of sirens in the distance, but all I heard was Cam hyperventilating and Kevin Bacon whining.
“What should I tell Nick?” Charlie asked me. “You’re the author. How should the story go? Should I be kind and tell him that you were a reluctant accomplice, that Zhirov threatened you into murdering Toscano? That you came here to meet Feliks to ask for his help, because you were scared you wouldn’t be able to clean up the mess on your own?
“Or should I put my old partner out of his misery quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid? Maybe I’ll tell him you and Zhirov were tight. That you worked for the mob. That Feliks trusted you. Hell, maybe I’ll even tell him you and Zhirov were sleeping together and that you murdered Toscano and his friend because Feliks asked you to. You’d be everything Nick despises—a liar, a criminal, a cheat. At least then I won’t have to listen to him crying into his beer about you. He’ll resent you so much, he won’t have the stomach to mourn you.” Charlie raised an eyebrow, like he was waiting for my opinion. But there was a piece of the story he hadn’t considered. A character he’d overlooked. Someone who had meaningful stakes in all this. And I was betting she was ready to hear my version of the story—the real one.
“Nick deserves to hear the truth,” I said, raising my voice. “I didn’t kill Marco Toscano or his friend. You did, Charlie. You broke into his suite and murdered them in cold blood. You can tell the police any story you want, but in the end, it’s all lies. They’re not going to believe you.” I resisted the urge to glance past him at the back door.
“The evidence will back me up,” Charlie said, chambering a round. “There are seven bullets left in Feliks’s gun and only four of you. Five if you include that goddamn dog. Hell, maybe I’ll even shoot myself, justto make it look good. What makes a better story—a graze in the leg or a slug in the foot?”
A gun cocked behind him. “How about I save you the trouble of deciding?”
