Fire Escape - Book Three: Troubled Heroes Series (An Action Thriller) (30 page)

             
Redialing his number, his heart thumped and he leaned against a building, the stench from the dumpster nauseating him. It rang twice and Gregg answered.

             
"Well Michael McGinnis, I was beginning to think you'd never call."

             
"What the hell do you want, Walsh?" He closed his eyes, longing for a restful sleep in a warm bed. He was far from it.

             
"I want to meet face to face. We need to settle this instead of you causing mayhem all over the damn city."

             
Michael grit his teeth. "Me causing mayhem? You know damn well you're the one causing all the bullshit. Man up and confess."

             
"I'm not going there just yet, Mikey. We need to have some dialogue, and not over the phone. Now, are you man enough to meet up with me?"

             
"Where?" Michael was sick of hesitating. It was time. He needed to be back with Eva. He needed this to be over before his baby was born. Most of all, he needed it over to save his life.

             
"You got a pen ready to write this down? Oh wait, that's right. You're running around like some hoodlum."

             
"Cut your shit and just tell me. I'll remember."

             
"The old distillery that's close to the firehouse. A few blocks down. Get there as soon as you can."

             
"I'll be there," Michael replied, hanging the phone up. He felt sick to his stomach. What had he just done? It was possible that the cops had heard that entire conversation and would be ready to pounce on him as soon as he showed up. His instincts were telling him otherwise. There was a tone in Gregg's voice that told him he was up to something on his own, and things were probably going to get ugly before they blew over.

             
He was only about eight blocks from the distillery. The trick would be to get there without being noticed. It seemed like police presence was thicker than just a few hours ago.

             
He quickened his pace, trying to stay in the shadows of the dark alleys, only crossing streets when he had to. Aside from ducking the cops, the shady characters on the corners were just as nerve wracking. He wasn't cracked up for this type of life. He knew he could hold his own, but really didn't want the chance to see if he could.

             
As he neared the location, he slowed down. Why was he in such a hurry? He had no idea what the hell to expect. He could round the corner and see Detective Reynolds and Vasquez. Gregg could be waiting on him, ready to dig his grave deeper. He could see the building half a block down. He needed to tell someone where he was. Even if the cops were watching his phone, if whatever this was went bad, at least they'd be honed in on his whereabouts.

             
He shot Casey a quick text message letting him know that Gregg wanted to meet up. After that, he shut it back off, his battery hanging on by very little power. Looking both ways, he crossed the street and went around to the back of the warehouse. The front was boarded up with no way of entry. Pushing through a small archway, he instantly began scanning for Gregg, on guard for anything. At least so far, there were no cops around.

             
"Walsh?" His voice echoed against the vacant walls. The sharp stench of mildew burned his nose.  The street lights lit up the room just enough, but still lent it an ominous view that made him nervous.

             
"I didn't think you had it in you to show up." The nuisance appeared, the same arrogant smirk he always carried on his face. "You look like shit. The streets haven't been too kind to you, have they?"

             
Michael sized him up, trying not to show his emotions. "What the hell do you want?"

             
"You. It's time to end this masquerade right here, right now."

             
"And how do you propose you're gonna do it?" Michael asked, taking a few steps back as Gregg got closer.

             
"Oh, I don't know. Viper had a few suggestions each time I went to visit him."

             
Michael knew this whole time that he was involved with him, but actually hearing it from him was the final nail in the coffin. His blood boiled and he resisted the urge to lash out at him. No, he had to play it cool. If he did anything out of anger he could screw things up worse for himself than they already were.

             
"You've been talking to Viper?"

             
"Yes, for awhile now. We've been patient. Now it's the final climax and I'm dying to finish."

             
"What made you go to Viper? Why?"

             
Gregg got closer to him, staring him straight in the eye. "Why?" He cocked his head to the side. The look on his face was pure evil. "Man, if we had time for me to go into why. I'm not gonna make it that easy for you just yet."

             
He was close enough to where Michael could easily reach out and punch him. Inflict some kind of physical pain on him. Instead, he remained patient. On the inside he was fighting it. They circled around each other as if they were two school boys about to embark on a playground fight. His pulse pounded and he wondered if Gregg could literally see his  heart beating out of his chest. Despite the cold temperature around them, sweat dripped in his eyes, stinging them.

             
"We gonna dance around each other all night or what? What is your plan, Walsh?"

             
He moved his head to the left, pointing out a gas can in the middle of the room. It was dark, but Michael could make out all of the supplies he had gathered up.

             
"It all becoming clear for you, Mikey?"

             
"You won't get away with this."

             
Gregg backed up, keeping his full attention on him. "I already have, hero. You too stupid to see the shit you're hip deep in?"

             
"So what's next?"

             
Gregg backed closer to the gas can. "Time to torch this place and take you down with it. Make it look like you screwed up on your next burn job."

             
Michael took a step forward, not wanting Gregg to get too far out of reach. He jumped when Gregg pulled a handgun from the waistband of his jeans and held it at eye level. His instant response was to hold his hands up, but he stood firm, taking one more step, disregarding the gun as if it were a toy. His adrenaline was racing and he was surprised at himself for not fearing the weapon.

             
"Hold it right there, Mikey. You try anything and I'll pull the trigger."

             
Michael let out a laugh. "That's funny."

             
"What is?"

             
"You shoot me, how in the hell are you gonna explain it? How would I have a gunshot wound if I'm here alone, trying to burn the place down? What would the cops think?"

             
"They've got a hard on for you, I don't think that would matter."

             
Michael scoffed and edged closer. "You know what I think?"

             
"I don't really give a damn what you think," Gregg replied, leaning down to grab the torch on the floor. He kept one eye on Michael as well as keeping the gun trained on him.

             
Michael ignored him. "I think you haven't thoroughly thought this final scene all the way through. You think I'm just gonna stand by and let you kill me?"

             
Gregg held the torch in one hand and the gun in the other, flicking the on off switch, making the blue and orange flame shoot in and out, a grin flashing on his face. The shadows gave him a sadistic look.

             
"I've got the gun. I've got the gasoline. I've got your life in my hands. Even if I had to shoot you, your body will be so burned up that they'd never be able to tell that you were shot."

             
"No? They'll be able to tell if I wasn't breathing before. Damn, you've been a firefighter long enough. Don't you know they have ways to look in an autopsy?"

             
"Even if you're completely burned up?" There was apprehension in Gregg's tone and Michael knew he had the upper hand. He wasn't one hundred percent sure if the medical examiner could tell. He wasn't a doctor. But he knew he had Gregg right where he needed him. He was doubting things. He just had to press forward and keep at him.

             
"Hell, Walsh, this building won't burn hot enough to destroy my body. FDNY will be alerted before the whole thing is engulfed and since it's vacant, get it extinguished pretty fast since no rescue effort will have to take place. I'd say that they might even be able to tell who I am without dental records. That sort of puts a hitch in your whole plan, doesn't it?"

             
"What about Eva?" Gregg asked. Michael assumed it was his desperate attempt to change the subject.

             
"What about her? You're either gonna kill me by shooting me or by burning me. What do I have to lose right now?" He had everything to lose, but Gregg was nervous. He wanted him to think he was gonna go out kicking and screaming, and he had every intention of fighting.

             
"She came to me when you were down in Texas. She was so worried about you, Mikey. She needed someone to talk to, so I was there. All that time I had to listen to how awesome you were, how great you were to her, and how much she loved you. She was so scared she was gonna lose the love of her life, and all I could do was sit and let her talk. Deep down it was killing me. Deep down I was hoping your ass would die down there. When I heard you were declared dead, I thought it was my chance. Then suddenly, in true Michael McGinnis fashion, you rose from the ashes and were alive. Like a damn cat." He toyed with the trigger on the torch again, admiring the flame. "It won't happen this time. This is where your luck and lives run out."

             
"So this is over jealousy? Because you want Eva?"

             
Gregg began to pace, still holding both weapons, on guard for anything. "You'd be surprised at how much a person says when they are upset and just needing someone to listen. She told me a lot of stuff, thinking I was to be trusted. Told me about your alcoholism. Told me how you've had a rough childhood after your dad died. Most importantly, your trouble with your brother's bookie. That's why I got into contact with him. I knew he'd be sitting behind those bars letting all of that fester. What she told me was innocent. She wasn't doing it to implicate you. Little did she know, she was telling a man that hated her boyfriend. And now you're engaged, which was like pouring gasoline on the embers, making it fan out into a fully fledged fire. I can't let you win."

             
It all made sense. What pissed Michael off the most was that he didn't realize it until it was too late. He always knew something was off about him, but carrying it this far was completely insane.

             
"So killing me will make Eva want you how?"

             
"She'll never know it was me. She's seen how the cops are after you. She knows you're a wanted man. It's only a matter of time before she realizes it all points to you and then you'll be the one she hates. I'll swoop in like her knight in shining armor and carry her off into the sunset."

             
Michael tried hard to think up a plan to stop him. "You're not right, Walsh. This needs to stop."

             
"Yes it does. And it stops with your ass dead." He lit the torch again, only this time, he reached down and poured gasoline in a puddle. Before he could finish, Michael lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. The torch fell beside them, engulfing the gasoline that was seeping from the can. Michael pushed Gregg to the side, the loud crack of the gun echoing against the walls. A bullet whizzed by his ear and he ducked out of the way. Something hot brushed his leg and he looked down. Blood seeped through his jeans and his calf muscle screamed out in pain.

             
Gritting his teeth, he pushed through it and fought back, his first goal was to get the gun out of Gregg's possession. His leg gave out and another bullet shot upward, sending particles of the ceiling around them. He was oblivious to how big the fire was growing until he looked back. The half of the room that led to the exit was completely in flames, trapping them in a far corner. It was only a matter of time before the fire progressed toward them.

             
Gregg didn't care. He was still lurching at Michael and hit him blindside against the side of his head with the butt of the gun, causing Michael to lose vision for a few seconds. He fell to the floor, finally coming to with Gregg standing directly above him. The barrel was aimed right between his eyes. The flames grew higher, licking the floors above them. It was so hot that Michael's hair was plastered to his forehead.