Saint/Sinner (18 page)

“I’d say your guess is dead-on, Walt ol’ pal.”

Walter couldn’t help it, and sighed out loud. He’d always known it was risky, but the alternative was unacceptable, and the rewards just too great to pass up. And God, he was so confident that he could pull it off. He’d never been more confident of anything in his life.

He touched his ear through the bandage again. It still tingled more than it hurt, but maybe he was just telling himself that in order to cope with the pain. He was going to have to see a plastic surgeon after tonight, which would mean going back to the house and finding that piece of his ear Jack had cut off. Dammit, why hadn’t he taken the time to find it before he left with Monroe? The good news was, it would probably still be there—wherever the hell Jack had put it. Unless, of course, some animal had wandered into the house and absconded with it. The thought made him shiver unwittingly.

“You okay there?” Monroe asked, glancing over.

“Fine.”

“Don’t worry; we’ll find her. But my question still stands: What happens if you can’t convince her?”

He didn’t answer, because he didn’t want to.

What if I can’t convince her?

I don’t know. I don’t know…

He’d have to be really convincing, that much was a given. The problem was, he’d never been particularly good at that, especially when women were involved. But once she learned he was doing all of this for Lucy, for her, for the three of them, she’d understand. She had to under—

A loud bark and something white flashed in the corner of his eye, and Walter spun around just in time to see Apollo—his coat of fur a stark contrast against the unyielding blackness of the woods—smashing into Monroe’s chest. Man and beast slammed into the ground, even as Monroe squeezed the Uzi’s trigger and bullets tore apart branches and leaves above—then around—him.

Walter ducked as a bullet nearly took his head off. He was reaching behind his back for Jack’s handgun when he heard
crunching
footsteps seconds before the very cold barrel of a gun jammed into the back of his neck.

“Don’t you fucking move, Walter,” a painfully familiar voice, dripping with anger, said from behind him.

Walter stared, mouth
slightly agape, as Apollo clamped down on the tall man’s right arm—the same one that had been holding the Uzi—and began jerking his head left and right as if the appendage were his own personal chew toy. The man screamed and thrashed, trying in vain to push the dog off. He had let go of the submachine gun, probably because holding onto it wasn’t important anymore with a full set of sharp teeth rending at his flesh. She wanted to say the sight of Apollo working on the man was terrifying, but the truth was, after the long night she’d had, Allie couldn’t muster the energy to give a shit.

Walter was another matter. He might have gasped “Oh Jesus” just before he doubled over and threw up.

Allie stepped back. Somehow, the sight of Walter vomiting was almost reassuring, a sign that maybe the Walter she thought she knew wasn’t entirely a fabrication after all.

“Apollo!” she shouted.

The dog instantly let go of the man’s arm, but he didn’t go very far. He began circling his prey and baring his teeth, every single sharp fang covered in blood. The white fur under his chin was splashed with a new coat of fresh red, as were parts of his shoulders, neck, and forearms. He looked like a hunter wearing war paint, and the way he was growling at the tall man convinced her Apollo recognized the face of the person who had tried to shoot him not all that long ago.

“If I give him the word, he’ll finish you off, and neither one of us will lose any sleep over it,” Allie said to the man.

He may or may not have heard her as he struggled to his knees, cradling his right hand in his lap. There was an odd look on his face, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened and that all this might have just been a bad dream. But all he had to do was look at Apollo, still circling him, to know he was very much awake.

“Go ahead,” Allie said, when she saw the man’s eyes settle on his fallen Uzi, less than four feet away.

The man sighed and sat back down on his butt. He shrugged off his suit jacket and began wrapping it around his bleeding arm, grimacing with every contact against the ghastly wound. He was clearly in tremendous pain and doing a poor job of hiding it. Maybe it was the adrenaline, she thought, allowing him to treat his wound without screaming out in agony.

“You have a name?” she asked him.

He gritted his teeth as he pulled the jacket tight, then said, “Monroe.”

“Where’s the other one, Monroe?”

“He left.”

“Let’s try this again,” she said, and fired at the ground barely an inch from his right leg.

He flinched and tried to pull the leg back, but Apollo, now behind him, growled even louder. Monroe froze.

“Now,” she said, “where’s the other one?”

“Back at the house with the girl,” Monroe said.

“Walter, is he lying?”

Walter shook his head and tried to turn to look back at her without moving too much, maybe for fear she would shoot him. She wasn’t sure if she could if he suddenly turned completely around, but fortunately he didn’t make her find out.

“He’s back there with Lucy,” Walter said.

“Doing what?” she asked.

“Waiting.”

“For?”

“Us to come back.”

“Who is ‘us,’ Walter?”

“You and me…”

“What about him?” she asked, nodding at Monroe, even though Walter couldn’t see the movement of her head because, of course, she was standing behind him.

“I guess him, too.”

“You guess?”

“Let me explain,” Walter started to say.

“Shut up,” she said. Allie reached into her back pocket and pulled out the two remaining plastic cuffs she’d taken off Jerry, and tossed one into Monroe’s lap, then handed the other to Walter. “Put them on. Both of you.”

“Hands or feet?” Monroe asked, flashing her a barely credible grin that he wanted her to believe was all devil-may-care, but it just looked pathetic.

“Whichever one lets you walk, asshole,” she said.

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m not here to amuse you. Now
put it on.
”

Monroe picked up the cuffs and gingerly slipped them around his wrists, doing his best not to nudge his right arm. His face was contorted in obvious pain through the whole thing.

“Allie,” Walter said. Unlike Monroe, he hadn’t put his cuffs on. “Let me explain—”

“Put them on, Walter,” she said.

“Allie, please…”

“Put them on,”
she said, spitting the words out through clenched teeth.

He sighed and did as instructed.

“Where is it?” she asked.

“Where is what?” he said.

“The gun. The one you shot Jack with.”

His entire body seemed to stiffen, and she had to wonder if he had convinced himself she hadn’t witnessed him murdering Jack back at the house. Or maybe he was hoping she wouldn’t bring it up.

“Behind my back,” he said quietly.

She reached under his jacket and felt around, found the gun, and relieved him of it. “Where’s your phone?”

“My phone?”

“Yes, Walter,
your phone.
”

“It’s back at the house. In the car. Reception was spotty, anyway,” he added. It was probably supposed to be a joke, but she didn’t laugh or even smile.

“Get up,” she said instead. “Both of you.”

Monroe struggled to his feet, grunting the entire time. His face had paled noticeably since Apollo got off him, and he was dripping blood from the gashed right arm despite the thick bundle of jacket wrapped tightly around it.

“Watch him, boy,” Allie said.

She didn’t have to tell him, because Apollo’s large brown eyes had never left Monroe, not even for a second.

“Hold up your hands,” she said as she walked around Walter. When he did, she pulled at the cuffs to make sure they were firmly in place. “Don’t move.”

“Allie,” he said, in that familiar pleading voice he always resorted to whenever he asked for forgiveness after an argument. There had been three occasions that she could recall, and he was the one who always apologized, even though two of those times had been her fault. Or partially her fault. Not that she ever let him know, even if she suspected that he knew but was just being the bigger man.

That Walter was worth fighting for. Maybe even worth dying for.

This Walter…she didn’t know this Walter at all.

“Allie, please,” he said, “just give me a chance to explain things. You’ll understand—”

“Shut up,” she said.

“Allie, please…”

“Start walking.”

“Allie…”

“Start walking,”
she said, summoning every ounce of self-will not to punch him in the face right then and there.

*

“Allie,” Walter said,
as he walked in front of her. “Please listen to me. I did all of this for a reason. No one was supposed to get hurt. I swear to you, I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

“You did this,” she said. “All of this. Tonight. You.”

“Yes—no. I mean no. It wasn’t just me. Someone else was involved.”

“Who?”

“That doesn’t matter. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. I swear, no one was supposed to get hurt.”

“How
was
it supposed to work, Walter?”

He didn’t answer right away, and even though she was behind him, she could glimpse his face from time to time and knew he was struggling, trying to pick the right words. Walter was always so easy to read.

No, that’s not true. I just thought
he was, but he’s not. He’s never really been.

She kept at least five feet between her and Walter, with Monroe walking to their left. The mercenary’s head was slightly bent forward, and she caught him blinking every now and then. His face was paler than before, a clear indication he hadn’t dealt with his blood loss quite as well as he had wanted her to believe earlier. If his blazer weren’t black, she would have probably been able to see the blood that soaked through the material. She didn’t know how the man was even still on his feet, much less walking next to them.

She kept expecting Monroe to make a run for it, especially since Apollo had begun vanishing at random intervals. She first noticed it five minutes ago when the dog simply disappeared into thin air, only to reappear on the other side of Monroe a few minutes later. Then he was gone again when she wasn’t looking. She didn’t know where he went and was always a little concerned until he returned. She couldn’t decide if he was scouting the area around them for potential dangers or if he was just doing what dogs do and chasing the variety of animals inside the woods.

“The company’s dying,” Walter was saying in front of her. “No one knows except the higher-ups.”

“Like you.”

“Yes.” He paused before continuing. “There won’t be a Gorman and Smith in a year. We’ll be lucky to survive the next few months. Everyone who knows about it is already looking for a way out. Including Dan.”

“Dan never said anything to me.”

“No, he wouldn’t. Can’t let something like the dissolution of the company get out to the masses. Everyone would panic, especially about their retirement plans and 401Ks.”

“What about them?”

“That’s the question. No one knows what will happen to them. To anything connected to the company.”

“Is that what this is about, Walter? Your retirement plan? Money?”

“Of course it is, Allie. Money makes the world go ’round. Why do you get up and go to work every morning, or answer all of Dan’s calls even on the weekends? Money.”

“You were stealing from Gorman and Smith.”

“Yes…in a way.”

“How?”

“There are money accounts in the company system that…don’t belong there.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Gorman and Smith has a lot of clients, and not all of them are the type of people you’d want to have brunch with. Dangerous people.”

“Criminals.”

“Yes.”

She took a moment to process what Walter was telling her. Could it be? How was that even possible? Wouldn’t she have spotted the signs? Could she even believe anything he was saying now, especially after everything that had happened tonight?

“Are you telling me I’ve been working for a company that launders money for organized crime, and never knew it?” she said. “I was there for
seven
months, Walter.”

“And they’ve been perfecting the façade for ten years before we showed up.”

“But you found out.”

“It took a few years, but I started noticing things. Strange money movements, accounts that didn’t seem to have real histories behind them. Very small details that most people wouldn’t see unless they spent too much time reading numbers…and had access.”

“Like you.”

He nodded. “Eventually, they came clean with me.”

“And you still kept working for them,” she said. It wasn’t a question, and he probably knew it by the way his shoulders stiffened slightly.

“You have to understand, Allie, they didn’t really give me a choice. It was join the team or put everyone I love at risk. You know Lucy means everything to me. Lucy and you—”