Rusty Nail

“Hello, handsome.” Alex aims the Wolverine. “Let’s do this the easy way.”

Both Jack and Harry scream the word NO!

Alex fires twice, and the bullets hit home. Phin tumbles through space, spi

Jack begins to cry.

“You see, Jack. This is why I didn’t kill you, or Harry, earlier. Even though I had plenty of chances.”

Alex walks up to the fallen lieutenant, drinking in her misery.

“You never knew my brother. Sure, you exchanged a few words with him. But you didn’t know him. He was something you chased. Hunted. Your prey.”

She turns to Harry, tenderly touches his bruised cheek.

“I could have hunted you the same way, but what’s the satisfaction in that? You were as unknown to me as Charles was to you. So I chose to get to know you. To spend time with you. To fully understand what I intended to destroy. And you got to know me, as well. Don’t you feel betrayed, Harry? Isn’t it so much worse, being killed by someone you love?”

“Love?” Harry shakes his head. “You’re just another notch on my belt, baby. Those midgets last night were twice the woman you are. And no icky scars.”

Alex pats McGlade on his leg, the one with the rusty nail brush sticking in. He howls.

“I owed it to Charles to do it this way. To eat this dish nice and cold. I could have taken you at any time. You too, Jack.”

Alex goes to Latham, pushes him over to the shelving unit.

“Unfortunately for you, cutie, you just got in the way.”

She uses Jack’s keys to uncuff his left hand, pulling his arm through the metal scaffolding before cuffing it again.

Jack is still on the floor, huffing and crying. Pathetic.

Alex goes to the table, sets the Glock and the Wolverine next to her bullet-making equipment.

“So here’s what’s going to happen next. I’m going to give you a chance to save the day, Jack. Isn’t that generous of me? But you’ll have to prove yourself.”

As Alex talks, she loads the guns.

“You’re going to have to prove you’re better than me, Lieutenant Daniels. You think you’re woman enough?”

Alex sticks the Wolverine into the waist of her jeans, then approaches Harry. With one hand, she unbuckles his belt.

“Can’t get enough of the love stick, eh, Mrs. McGlade?”

“I couldn’t even find it half the time.”

“Maybe you would have enjoyed it more if you pretended I was a blood relative.”

Alex tugs off the belt and tosses it in front of Jack.

“Stand up and put that on.”

Jack, her face streaked with tears, slowly stands up and winds the belt around her waist.

Alex presses the gun into Jack’s neck and drags her, by the belt, over to an open area of the warehouse. Using her left hand, she removes the Glock from her jeans and shoves it into Jack’s belt.

Alex puts her lips next to Jack’s ear and whispers, “I’m going to prove, once and for all, I’m better than you are.”

Then she walks backward, slowly, keeping a bead on Jack’s chest.

When she’s forty feet away, she stops, tucking the Wolverine into her waistband.

“You think you’re faster than me, Jack?” Alex smiles. She’s never felt this alive before.

“Draw, whenever you’re ready.”

CHAPTER 50

A CALM CAME over me. The same calm I felt when I was in Diane Kork’s bathroom, with the house burning down around me. I stared at Holly, perhaps fifteen yards away from me, a dazzling smile creasing her perfect face, and I knew I was going to die.

Holly was better than me. She played me, and Harry, for fools. What she said about getting to know us to hurt us worse was true.

If I’d just been grabbed by her and killed, it would have been bad enough. But coming from someone who I knew, someone I trusted, and not seeing it coming; that was like a gut punch.

And to add injury to insult, she just killed my best friend, and was going to kill the man I loved, and me, and my cat. And even stupid Harry, whom I found myself developing a soft spot for. A very small soft spot, but a soft spot nonetheless.

I looked at Latham, and mouthed “I’m sorry.” He was crying, which made me feel even worse.

In my head, I said good-bye to Herb, and to my mother.

“Come on, Jack!” Latham yelled. “You can do it!”

But staring at Holly, I knew I couldn’t do it. She would put ten rounds into my chest before I even got a shot off. The woman was better than me at everything. She wouldn’t have set this little scenario up if she didn’t think she’d win.

“Anytime, Jack. Or would you prefer I try this with Latham instead?”

My knees were rubber. My mouth went dry. My hands were shaking worse than Bud’s.

I couldn’t win.

Latham said, “You can do it, Jack! I love you!”

I couldn’t win.

Harry said, “Jackie, just drop the bitch so we can go home.”

I couldn’t win.

Holly said, “Or maybe I could play this game with Mr. Friskers. I don’t think he’d be as scared as you look right now.”

I couldn’t win I couldn’t win I couldn’t win.

But goddammit, I could sure as hell try.

I reached for the Glock, tugging it from the belt, bringing it up and at the same time stepping forward – Holly went for the body shot, and a profile is harder to hit – and my arm fully extended and I watched as Holly’s eyes went wide and she grabbed for her gun and fired first, but I wasn’t going to be duped this time by trying to outdraw her, I was going to make sure my shot counted and I took careful aim and felt the wind as her slugs tore the air in front of me and I squeezed the trigger and fired.

Her head snapped back as if on hinges, and she sprawled out onto the concrete floor, her gun skittering off into the darkness.

Cheering, from Latham and Harry. I walked toward Holly, saw the blood streaming down her face, and then limped over to Phin, digging at his neck, feeling for a pulse.

He surprised me by opening his eyes.

“… buttons…”

The relief I felt was tangible.

“I’m getting an ambulance, Phin. You’re going to be okay.”

“Bullets…” he moaned. Then he said buttons again.

But it wasn’t buttons. It was batons.

Batons were specialty bullets, used by police for crowd control. Made of rubber. Non-lethal.

I looked up at the table, saw Holly’s bullet-making equipment.

She wouldn’t have risked killing me so quickly. She had other plans.

I heard Harry and Latham yell just as Holly kicked me from behind.

CHAPTER 51

THE BLOW KNOCKED me sideways. I rolled with it, tucking in my head and coming up in a kneeling position, my arms up to block.

I saw little flashes of light, and my vision was lopsided, but I was able to see Holly – her face a Halloween mask of blood and rage – move in and attempt another front kick.

Instinct took over. I swiped away the kick with my left forearm, and my right hand formed a fist and I gave her a sharp jab in the i

Holly yelled, retreating two steps. That gave me time to get to my feet. I kicked off my heels and adopted a ready stance, left foot behind me, keeping the weight off my injured right ankle.

Holly wiped a sleeve across her eyes. Her forehead was bleeding like mad. Though baton rounds weren’t lethal, they were still like getting pegged with a slingshot. The blood in her eyes was to my advantage, and I used it.

Biting back the pain, I swiveled my hips and brought my left leg forward, aiming the kick at her chest. Holly leaned away, as I expected, and I brought the left foot down and moved forward, going into a round kick with my right foot.

I extended my knee and felt my heel co