“J.B.,” Jem said.“Just like Jem Berger.How about that?I bet a lot of guys wish they had the same initials as their awesome big bro.”
Stephen—Jacob—laughed.“Do you know what I kept thinking, watching you stumble around the last few days, trying not to cover my eyes every time you somehow managed to fuck things up even further?Howis he still alive?That’s what I couldn’t figure out.How have you stayed alive all these years?You’re a walking shit show.Tell me.I want to know.How?”
“Stick around,” Jem said.“You’re about to find out.”
“Enough,” Brigitte called sharply.“Get the briefcase.They’ll have called security by now; we don’t have any more time.”
“You know what kills me?”Jem asked.
“How easily I put you on your ass the first time?”Stephen—Jacob—said as he took a step forward.He flexed the arm holding the sap, building up a little momentum.
“Fuck that noise,” Jem said.His lips were dry, and they felt like they might split as his grin got bigger.“What kills me is that you two don’t have any idea what’s in that briefcase.”
Something—annoyance verging on anger—flickered across Jacob’s face.“I guess we’ll find out.”
He came forward the same way he had the day before: unhurried, his stance relaxed.Jem spun the paracord to build up speed and shifted his weight to the balls of his feet.The gun Mckell had been holding was about six feet away, lying on the floor where Mckell had dropped it.Jacob was standing in the way.
Jacob came within range, and Jem darted forward.The last time, he’d made the mistake of counting on Jacob reacting the way most people reacted.Most people, if someone attacked, freaked out.Most people panicked.Most people pulled back, tried to gather themselves, looked for an escape.Jacob, on the other hand, knew how to handle himself.And that’s how he’d gotten the upper hand.
This time, Jem wasn’t going to give him the same chance.He whipped the hex nut at Jacob’s face.Jacob pulled back, but only for a moment.As the hex nut zipped through the air, he was already recovering, regaining his posture, reaching for Jem’s sweatshirt with one hand as he swung the sap with the other.
Jem never gave him a chance.He was still moving forward from the attack, and he drove his shoulder into Jacob’s chest.Jacob twisted and tried to get away, but Jem grabbed him and barreled forward.They staggered out into the hall.Brigitte was screaming.
When Jacob recovered, Jem felt it.The hand holding the sap pulled back.Jem tried to shove Jacob so that he could get some distance, but he realized now that he’d made a mistake—yes, he’d caught Jacob off guard, but he’d also put himself exactly where Jacob wanted him.Jacob had a handful of Jem’s sweatshirt, and now he used it to yank Jem off balance, almost exactly as he’d done the last time they’d fought, some sort of bullshit control move that Jem hadn’t seen before.It worked—again—and Jem lost his balance.
Only a lot of years fighting dirty saved him.His instinct—anyone’s instinct—was to hold on to Jacob, to try to keep himself upright.
Instead, Jem let himself fall.
The sap glanced off the crown of Jem’s head instead of connecting full-on.For a moment, Jem’s vision clicked off.Then it was back, and everything tilted.He was rolling across the carpet.Nausea made his throat clench.The fluorescents overhead were too bright, and his head pounded.It didn’t hurt, not exactly, but a part of him knew that was mostly the adrenaline talking.
Soft steps on the carpet.
Jem got on all fours.
“Come on,” Jacob said, his steps moving closer.“Seriously?That’s it?”
A foot flashed out at Jem’s face, and he scrambled back.
Jacob laughed.
“Leave him alone,” Brigitte was saying.“All we need is the briefcase.”
Somehow, Jem got himself against a wall.The world still felt like it was trying to twist out from under him, the hallway snaking in on itself like a kaleidoscope.Jacob was coming at him.The gun—Gerald’s gun—was tucked into his belt.
Behind him stood Brigitte, wringing her hands, her eyes flicking between them.
Jem dragged himself upright.He got the antenna out of his pocket.He tried to snap it out to its full length, but his body didn’t seem to remember how to do anything.He tried again, and this time he got it.Jacob wore that same slanting smile.
Jem took one hobbling step away from the wall to give himself room to work.He tried to turn it into a feint, and when Jacob adjusted himself, turning in response to the unexpected movement, Jem slashed with the antenna.He whipped it at Jacob as hard as he could.Jacob got an arm up, and he absorbed most of the blow, but the tip of the antenna scored a line at the corner of his eye.Blood rose from the laceration and trickled down his cheek.
“Fuckin’ A,” Jem panted.“Come get some more.”
For the first time, real anger twisted Jacob’s face.He wiped the blood away, flicked it onto the carpet, and reached for the gun.
Jem laughed.
“I’m glad you think this is funny,” Jacob said.
