Collateral Damage (35 page)

I struggle to make out the conversation.

"A red pickup is making its way to the rear of the school."

It's Rusch. The voice—it's Rusch. My pulse spikes, fear coursing through my veins.

Shit. What the hell is happening?

"Was your position compromised?"
Detective Mendoza asks.

"Cannot confirm."

I take the dime bag from Vince and reach for my wallet to pay him, trying to keep my hands steady, my fingers from shaking. The pickup pulls around the curb. I swipe the sweat from my forehead. It's too hot for a jacket.

"Here are my boys!" Vince says.

His boys.

Tony, Brandon, and Blake.

The officer's words echo inside my skull.

Compromised. Compromised. Compromised.

Vince moves in their direction. I spring for Jaden, kneeling at her car door, speaking through the cracked window. "You need to get out of here." I steal a glance over my shoulder. Vince is speaking to Tony through the passenger's side window of his truck.

"What are you
doing
, Parker? I thought.... You
swore
..."

"I said a lot of things, Jade," I interrupt. "But right now I need you to trust me, okay? You
have
to listen to me!" I struggle to keep my voice low. Steady. I need her to stay calm—to hear what I'm saying.

"What's happening?" she whispers.

Compromised.

"I can explain everything to you later, I swear. Just
please
do this for me. I need you out of here—fast."

"What do I do?"

"You need to crank your car, back out of this parking space, and pull away like nothing is wrong. Do you
hear
me? Do
not
let him think anything is wrong." She glances at Vince then back at me, anxiety darkening her features. Her eyes run empty. Lifeless. "Make a right turn onto the street and wait for me at the gas station at the end of the block. Go.
Now
."
 

She twists the keys in the ignition. The engine roars to life. I stand, and, hardly thinking, look toward that drive. That neighborhood. At the squad car parked along that street. Jaden follows my eyes, and she sees it, too.

Compromised.

"What the
fuck
?" Vince grabs my collar, spins me around, shoves me into the car. "Let her out!" he demands.

"No," I reply, righting myself.

"Step aside, or you'll
both
regret it."

I refuse to move, and, as I stand frozen, Vince smiles at me. Laughs. "Hanson has a few choice words for you," he says, voice mocking. And then to Jaden: "Sweetheart? You might wanna tell your boyfriend to start listening."

"Parker?" she calls.

"Stay inside the car," I order.

"Open the door!" Vince pushes me out of the way, reaches for his belt, and removes a nine millimeter. He drives the handle through the window. The glass splinters. Jaden flinches, covering her face with her arm.

"This has nothing to do with her!" I shout.

"What's happening, Whalen?"
my earpiece asks.

"We'll see about that," Vince replies. He reaches through the broken window and lifts the lock. "Get out." The door swings open. He drags Jaden out of the car. She falls to the ground, thrashing, fighting to free herself. He grabs her ponytail and hauls her to her feet.

Her scream pierces me to the very core. In a second my jacket is unzipped, fingers poised.

I'll kill him.

"Don't move," Vince warns.

I glance behind me. Blake and Tony and Brandon are out of the truck now, watching. I motion for them to stay back. "Stop it, Vince," I insist.

"Which one of you set me up?"

My eyes find Jaden's. They're red, full of tears, scared shitless.

I swallow hard, fighting to stay calm, drawing on everything I learned in training. "Come on. You had to know you'd get caught one day."

If I can keep him talking—if I can rationalize with him.... I just need to get her out of here. That's it. Please, God, help me get her out of here.

"She set me up!"

"I set you up!" I reply. "She has nothing to do with it, and this is only making it worse. Let her go. We'll talk. We can work something out. You have
options
."

"You were supposed to be my friend!"

"I'm not anyone's friend."

"I don't
believe
you," Vince says, teeth clenched. Then, not taking his black eyes off of me, he pitches Jaden against the car. The sound of her face cracking against metal is enough to make my heart stop beating. The sight of her body going limp is enough to kick-start it, every sense heightened, every muscle constricting, every instinct triggering to action.

I rip my gun from its holster and turn it on Vince.

The detective's voice rings in my ear:
"We're moving in, Whalen. Hang tight."

But I barely hear the words. They hardly register. They don't even matter.

What matters is the blood pouring from the gash on Jaden's forehead. Crimson streams flowing down the side of her face and neck, dripping onto the pavement. Her choked sobs. Every nerve in my body fires, unhinged.

I'll kill him. I'll kill him. I will fucking kill him for this,
becomes my new mantra.

Vince tightens his grip on her.

Jaden's chest rises and falls; she struggles to breathe. I feel every gasp, every panicked heave of her body.

My gun is cocked, ready, aimed at Vince's face. "Let her go. It's done, Vince. And I will
not
lose sleep over killing you. Don't make me."

"I dare you to try," he taunts. Time flows disjointedly as he swings Jaden in front of him, using her as a shield. He jams his gun into her temple.

My blood turns to ice, travelling through my veins, moving in slow motion.

I will fucking destroy you.

I hear Rusch:
"Perimeter surrounded. Moving in."

"How does it feel, man? Think I have it in me?" Vince laughs. It's short, bitter, devoid of humor. "Guess what?
I do
."

Jaden's eyes pinch shut.

Don't do it, Jaden. Don't give up.

They surround us quickly. Squealing tires. Blinding lights.

"Drop your weapon!" Detective Mendoza screams into a megaphone.

And Vince—for a moment, there is fear and uncertainty. Hesitation.

This is it.

Jaden's eyes open, finding mine. "I've got you, Jaden!" I promise. "Cross my heart!"

Her voice sings in my head, teasing:
Nobody's crossed their heart since fourth grade.

And that's when she gathers every ounce of strength left in her body and jams her heel into his knee. In this chaos they stumble, Vince loses hold of her, and it's just enough for Jaden to slip beneath his arms. She crashes to the pavement, leaving him open.

In a blink, he aims his gun and squeezes the trigger.

I feel the sting of impact the moment my own gun explodes.

He falls against Jaden's car.

I rush toward her, pulling her body close, sheltering her, flinching as more shots are fired.

And when the world finally goes silent there is nothing but the smell of gunpowder hanging suspended in the air—sharp and metallic and acrid—and Vince's body lying in a heap beside us.

I pull myself upright, roll Jaden over, shove the hair away from her face. Her face—half covered in blood.

She gasps, gulping air, her entire body shivering.

"Jaden? It's okay. Can you hear me?"

Her eyes refuse to stay open. They won't focus.

"Can you hear me? Jaden?" I can't let her eyes close. She can't go to sleep. I have to get her out of here. "Come on, Jade!" I beg. "Please stay with me!" I tear off my leather jacket, unstrap the vest.

"Are you okay?" Mendoza asks.

"I'm fine! Just give me your keys!" I slip the black vest over my head, off my chest. The tear across the center, the frayed edges—this vest saved my life.

No—my life is bleeding beside me.

"Jade? Jaden can you hear me? You're going to be fine, okay? You have to stay with me."

Please, God. Let her be okay.

I swear. I will never ask for another thing.

Just let her be okay.

I scoop her up, lifting her off the ground. She wraps her arms around me, buries her face in my neck. She coughs and sobs and coughs and my heart constricts, ripping in two.

This is all my fault.

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry!"

I carry her to one of the squad cars, yank the door open, and place her in the passenger's seat. I push the hair away from her face, wipe the warm tears from beneath her eyes. My fingers are covered in blood. We're both covered in blood.

The gash on her forehead is deep, still bleeding. "Shit." I remove my shirt, cram it into a ball, and press it against the wound. She winces.

This is my fault.

"Hold this." Her fingers tremble, but she manages to hold the shirt in place as I pull the seatbelt around her, fumbling, trying to buckle her in. Then my eyes....

I can't fucking see a goddamn thing!

I swipe them with the back of my hand, trying to clear them.

As soon as she's in, I shut the door.

"An ambulance is already on its way," Mendoza says.

"She needs help
now
. I am not waiting for a
fucking
ambulance!"

"You can't leave, Whalen. This is a crime scene."

"Watch me."

I circle the vehicle. Rusch tosses me the keys as I reach the driver's side.

"Someone follow him," Mendoza demands.

*
    
*
    
*

The nearest hospital is twenty miles away. We arrive in fourteen minutes—fourteen of the longest minutes of my life. Fourteen minutes of eyes bouncing from the road to Jaden to the road and back to Jaden. Fourteen minutes of reminding her to stay awake, to keep the shirt against her forehead. Fourteen minutes of watching blood dry from a Harvard crimson to a dull rust.

Someone radioed ahead. A team waits for us at the emergency room entrance, all wrinkled scrubs and anxious frowns.