Straight Flushed (Hot Pursuit #1)(82)

The gunshot. Cavanaugh.

Avery, unable to hear Stephen through his shock, remained standing. Stephen forced him back down onto the bench. “Charlie?” Avery repeated. “But… you’re dead.”

“I think we can all agree that I’m not,” Charlie said. “And I go by Charles, if you don’t mind.”

“How?” he whispered. “The helicopter. It exploded.”

I stayed on the floor, listening. And watching. The man talking looked like an older version of Stephen but with salt and pepper hair. His brown skin was pulled tightly across his face and his brilliantly blue eyes were a clear match to his son’s. His pale linen suit hung loosely on his slender frame. Next to him was one of the men from the café that morning—the other from the duo. His partner was probably already cold and zipped up in a bag, headed down to the county morgue.

“The helicopter accident was a cover-up,” Charlie said. “I faked my death, Avery. Some men made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I left everything behind here to live the life of a king in exchange for my services. It wasn’t the easiest decision, but it was a lot of money.”

“Do you know what you did to Michelle? She nearly died from the heartache of losing you. Milly practically had to live at your house for a month to help with Stephen after.”

“I said it wasn’t easy but I knew she’d recover. We didn’t have the greatest of marriages anyway.” He shrugged. “I’ve kept tabs on her over the years. She’s done well for herself and was better off without a man like me. And you too. You didn’t need me as your partner. You were always too straight edged for your own good.”

Avery laced his fingers together across his lap. “And then you recruited your son into this nonsense?”

Charlie’s brows flickered. “When my boss needed someone over here to do a job, who better to turn to than my own son. I’ve kept tabs on him over the years as well. He’s smart, my boy. So very smart.”

“Uh, this is really great reunion and all,” Stephen interjected. “And I’d love to live in the joy of it, but why are you here?” Stephen asked. “I said I had this taken care of until these assholes jumped the gun and shot up the whole damn city.”

“I come here because boss didn’t like how long you were taking,” the man next to Charlie said. His Middle Eastern accent was so thick I understood why he’d remained quiet that day on the street. “You play house long enough and I listen to one man—Boss. He give orders. I do what he say.” He raised his weapon and pointed it toward Stephen.

Charlie said something to him in a slur of throaty, wet sounds—Arabic, I guessed. The man responded with irritation.

“What do you mean no loose ends?” Charlie asked looking at the raised weapon. “He’s done everything we’ve asked him to do. He’s done all the work and he’s my son. Lower your gun!”

“Dad?” Stephen asked.

The man lowered his weapon an inch, irritated by Charlie, and retorted in English. “He shouldn’t have fucked up.”

“What are you talking about?” Charlie asked.

“Boss say your boy make messes. He sloppy and leave trails. He say for me to do job. I do it and go home.” He raised his gun toward Stephen again.

“Stephen!” Charlie called out and smacked the man’s arm, but the weapon discharged. Stephen dropped to the floor in front of me. His gun made one small bounce out of his grip. Blood leaked out from under his chest. His head was turned slightly, and I could tell from his vacant stare, he was already gone.

“What have you done? My boy!” Charlie shouted.

I snatched Stephen’s gun, rolled on my side and fired. My bullet hit the man’s neck, bumping his arm out of line as he fired one last round. The bullet, aimed in Avery’s direction, hit the window behind us, and glass rained down in the courtyard beyond. The man covered his wound to keep the blood from spurting out of his body, but it was futile; it squirted in streams through his fingers. He’d bleed out in seconds. In this house of God, his soul was given to the devil, and his lifeless body fell to the floor.

Charlie kicked the gun from his hand then ran to his son’s side. He rolled Stephen’s limp body over and cradled his head, holding it to his chest as he began to weep. “Oh God, what have I done? I’m so sorry.”

I glanced over at Avery who was behind the bench on the floor in shock. “Are you hurt?” My voice came out more nasally; my sinuses had completely swollen shut.

Avery responded with a few quick shakes of his head. The poor man’s heart couldn’t handle one more surprise.

Vance charged through the archway at the front of the room. “Di!” He scanned the room, looking at the two dead bodies then he ran toward me. “Jesus, what happened? What did he do to you?” He got down on his knees next to me and held my face.

“Stephen punched me. I’m pretty sure my nose is broken. Then he kicked me in the ribs. Hurts like hell.” I groaned. “Most of the bad guys are dead.” I bobbed my head toward Charlie while trying to stand. “Except that one.”

Vance looked at Charlie still rocking and cradling Stephen’s head. “Him? Who the hell is he?” he asked while I struggled to get on my feet. I didn’t have the energy to explain who he was and only grunted. It would be a story for another day. “Don’t get up. An ambulance is on its way.” He turned his weapon on Charlie.