Blood, Ash, and Bone

CHAPTER Forty-four

We pulled up to River Street, next to the floating dock. The storm had emptied the area, especially the west end where the tattoo shop was. I searched for cops. None, not even a patrol car.

I threw the line over the cleat. “Finish that for me, the other line too. Nothing finicky. We have to be able to untie quick.” Then I handed Trey his familiar H&K. “Here. It’s two bullets down.”

“I’ve got spares.” Lacking a holster, he jammed it in his waistband at the small of his back. “Go. I’m right behind you.”

The boat bucked in the water, almost pitching me into the river. I jumped onto the dock, then scrambled into a run, my sneakers slipping when I hit the treacherous stone and concrete. River Street felt post-apocalyptic. Blurred lights, the ponderous rain-chilled darkness, the wind’s unbroken yowling.

I ran for the tattoo shop, for the alley beside it. I stopped at the entrance and peered into the darkness, wiped my hair from my face, shielding my eyes with my hands. But I could see nothing at the other end, only shadows.

I looked behind me. No Trey, not yet.

I took the alley at a slow jog, my brain throwing horrors at me. Jasper waiting, gun pulled. Hope dead already, her blood a cooling puddle on the cobblestones. I reached the larger connecting passageway, open to the right and left, blocked in front by a sheer limestone wall.

And then I spotted Hope huddled under the shop’s awning. She wore a gray sweatshirt over her dress, the hood pulled over her head, her bare white legs ghostly in the dim light.

I ran up and grabbed her arm. “We have to leave! Now!”

She snatched free. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Jasper’s coming. We have to get back to the boat!”

“What boat?”

“The one on at the floating dock. I—”

She looked over my shoulder and screamed. I spun around.

Jasper stepped from the shadows of the passageway. His gun glinted oily black even in the darkness, and he was wet and mud-pocked and lacerated from his tumble in the oyster beds.

He pointed the gun at me. “Stop right there, both of you. Hands in the air.”

I did as he said. I thought of running, but there was nowhere to go. I thought of screaming, but he’d kill me where I stood.

“Take whatever you want and go,” I said. “We won’t stop you.”

He shook his head. “Too late.”

“You don’t need us. All you need is that document, right? So take it and go!”

Jasper took two steps closer. I saw his next move coming, and I knew I’d have only one shot. I opened my hands, trying to remember the rules—eyes on Jasper, not the gun, don’t give away the move—but I couldn’t stop the tremors, everything spastic and surreal.

And then, in the mouth of the alley to Jasper’s right, I saw the shadow materialize. I saw it in the corner of my eye, smooth and silent and inevitable, an assassin’s shadow. I didn’t look, though. I kept my eyes on Jasper. I didn’t give a single thing away.

Trey’s voice came from the threshold, soft and full of authority. “Jasper.”

Jasper whirled, and the gun whirled with him. “Stop right there, or I’ll—”

Trey fired, one-two-three. The first bullet hit Jasper’s wrist, the second his shoulder. The gun flew from his hand as the third took out his left knee. He pitched to the ground, screaming. It was over before I could hit the cobblestones, but I hit them anyway, hands over my ears.

Trey closed the space in five steps and kicked Jasper’s gun behind a stairwell. Then he pressed his own gun into the back of Jasper’s neck and pushed him on his stomach.

Jasper went down. His bloody hand snaked toward Trey’s ankle, but Trey slammed his bare heel down on Jasper’s shredded wrist and twisted, hard, all of his weight behind it. Jasper screamed and tried to roll to his back, but Trey kicked him in the head, one solid strike that spun him on his back. He didn’t move after that.

I lifted my head, but kept my belly against the ground. “Trey?”

He didn’t answer. He was breathing hard, his gun trained on Jasper’s chest. He cocked his head, evaluating, examining. I stood up and went to him. Hope remained slumped under the awning, sobbing, incoherent.

Trey looked my way. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“No.”

Trey turned back to Jasper, who was sprawled unconscious on the cobblestones. He kept his hands wrapped around the gun.

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Trey?”

“Do you have your gun?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He placed his own on the ground. “Keep him in your sights, finger off the trigger. And call an ambulance. Jasper needs an ambulance. I probably do too.”

He dropped into a sitting position on the wet cobblestones, legs bent, arms folded across his knees. He looked on the verge of passing out—shivering, pale, eyes closed.

I knelt beside him. “I’ll do it. You take it easy.”

His voice was weak. “And call Garrity, please. Would you do that?”

“Of course. Now be quiet.”

“Where’s Hope?”

I looked. She’d vanished. I cursed. In the distance, I heard a wail of sirens. Police and ambulance and maybe even a fire truck from the sound of it. Please let that be Kendrick coming to the rescue, I thought. Please let Boone have called a cop this one time in his life.

I returned my attention to Trey. “Hope’s run. Again.”

“Oh.”

“But help is on the way.”

I lifted his head and pushed the hair from his face. His skin was ashen, and he shook like he had a fever. I put two fingers to the side of his neck. His pulse beat fast but steady.

“Tai? I’m going to lie down now. Is that okay?”

I stroked his forehead. “Lie down, boyfriend. I’ve got everything under control.”