Saint was shaking too hard to speak, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“I’ll just shoot him,” said Jackson. “Sniveling little shit didn’t tell anyone.”
“Is that true?” Johnny said to Saint, catching his chin in his hand. “If you think you’re protecting your friends, don’t worry—I’ll be taking care of them in short order.”
Saint jerked his head, succeeding only in swaying his entire body in the chains.
“You said if I came with you—” But he couldn’t finish.
Corinne could see his teeth were stained scarlet with blood. Someone must have hit him. She balled her hands into fists, trying to gain control over the fury that was building in her veins.
“I lied,” Johnny said. “To be honest, I just wanted to see if you were made of stronger stuff than your old man. After you left Ada high and dry, it didn’t seem likely. At least now you can die knowing you’ve redeemed yourself. It’s more than your father managed.”
“This is taking too long,” Jackson said.
“I thought a thespian of all people would appreciate the theatrics of it,” Johnny said, more to Saint than to his cohort. “This is how the ironmongers do it, you know. String the slagger up with iron, then slit the calves open, here and here.” He drew lines with his finger across Saint’s calves. “Chain ’em and drain ’em.”
Saint whimpered. Blood was dripping from his mouth, bright and angry against his pale skin.
“It’s not my fault,” Johnny said. “This would have been so much easier if you’d just kept your mouth shut at the station last month. I had a nice, quick death arranged for you in lockup. Shiv to the neck. You would have bled out before you realized what was happening.”
There was a sound near the back of the warehouse.
“Jackson, go,” Johnny said.
Jackson had jumped out of his chair, clicking the chamber of his gun closed. It was a strange model that Corinne had seen a few times before. Johnny had had them specially made somewhere overseas. Pistols and bullets made entirely without iron. Still just as deadly though.
She realized that the sound had to be Ada and Charlie at the back door. Without thinking, she stood up and rounded the crates.
“Johnny!” she yelled.
Both men’s attention snapped to her.
“Corinne,” Johnny said. She could tell he was surprised but not necessarily alarmed, which she would have preferred.
“You’re a hard man to track down,” she said. She was pleased to find that her voice wasn’t shaking.
“I guess this means that Ada is around here somewhere,” Johnny said. “Jackson, put your gun on Miss Wells, and if she says another word, shoot her.”
“Don’t.”
Corinne heard Gabriel’s voice behind her. She glanced back and saw that he had his gun trained on Jackson. He moved up slowly to stand beside her.
“Now, you’re the last person I expected to see here, Stone,” said Johnny.
“Please tell me you have perfect aim,” Corinne said to Gabriel.
“Better than him,” Gabriel said, nodding toward Jackson. “He was only a few yards away when he missed me.”
“Won’t happen again,” Jackson growled.
Corinne held her breath for a few seconds, hoping to hear the first strains of music, but there was nothing yet.
“Take Saint down,” Corinne said, lifting her hands slightly, palms up. “We can work something out.”
“I think we’re past that now,” Johnny said quietly.
To Corinne’s chagrin, he had stepped partially behind Saint, where Gabriel no longer had a clear shot if it came to that.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she said. There was a quiver in her voice now. She hoped he couldn’t hear it. “We’ve always had your back, Johnny.”
“That’s true,” he said. His eyebrows tilted downward in the barest frown. “I didn’t plan any of this, you know. But you just had to pull the Bengali banker. How am I supposed to run a business when the cops are sniffing outside the doors every night? And when they pass that amendment, the Cast Iron will be finished. I even tried to give you an out. I sent Jackson as Gordon to make sure you thought I was dead. I figured Ada would leave town and you would run back home. It should have been a clean break—except neither of you could leave well enough alone.”
“Told you they wouldn’t,” Jackson said, earning a cutting look from his employer.
“We’ll leave it alone now,” Corinne said, “if you let us take Saint.”
Johnny shook his head. He was pulling something from his pocket—earplugs. Jackson had a pair around his neck and used one hand to shove them into place, keeping his gun hand ready. Corinne realized it didn’t matter where Charlie and Ada were now. It was over.
“Sorry, Corinne. It can’t be helped,” Johnny said. “Jackson, kill them.”
Gabriel grabbed Corinne’s arm and yanked her behind him. She closed her eyes waiting for the shots, waiting for the end of everything.
But there weren’t any.