Raw Edges (17 page)

MORGAN WAS TORN.
Gibson was heading right toward Micah, but Clint was escaping with Andre. Trusting Jenna to follow Clint and Andre—as much as she hated that option, she knew Jenna would never endanger Andre—Morgan raced down the stairs.

As she arrived on the lower floor, the fire sprinklers finally activated, adding the pounding water to the smoke and confusion. She turned away from the atrium and headed back beneath the stairs to the security office. The door was ajar, although the keypad was blinking red. Pistol in hand, she burst into the office.

It was empty. Except for Micah, his face cast in stark shadow by the glow of the monitors surrounding him, standing over Gibson. Micah’s hand was raised, fist ready to strike, as he whirled to face Morgan. Gibson cowered beneath the monitors, both hands trying to stop his nose from bleeding, his one arm also smeared with blood.

“Clint shot me,” he moaned. “He left me behind.” His cocky smile was gone; he seemed shaken as much by Clint’s betrayal as from his wounds.

Her gaze went from one to the other then back to Micah. “Nice work.”

“He had this—I think he was going to blow up Andre and Clint.” He handed her a cell phone. “Or maybe more bombs.”

“He deserved it. He betrayed me,” Gibson muttered, his eyes glazed, the whites showing all around.

Micah crouched and quickly searched Gibson, removing everything from his pockets. Morgan didn’t help, she was too busy scanning the monitors for signs of Clint and Andre.

“I saw what you did,” Micah said, his tone tentative. “Were you really going to wear that vest? Go with your father to save Andre?”

“Yes.” She spotted Jenna weaving through the crowd streaming out of the mall, followed her through the cameras as she left the throng behind and began to make her way through the parked cars. Emergency response vehicles were rolling in, their lights strobing in the grainy security footage, making it difficult to see.

“Why? Was it because you knew your father wouldn’t actually hurt you?”

She understood that he needed to make sense of everything that happened today. It would be quicker to give him a lie that served as an easy answer. But she couldn’t. “No. Clint would hurt me. He would kill me. But he’ll do worse to Andre if I can’t stop him.”

Micah stood at her side, flipping through more of the cameras. “Why does he hate Andre so much?”

“He doesn’t.” She spotted movement at the far end of the employee lot. “He doesn’t even know Andre. He’d hurt him to hurt me.”

“Because he hates you that much?” Confusion clouded his voice. Micah had two loving mothers, was wanted and cherished. Her world was as foreign as life on Mars to someone like him.

She zoomed in on the camera. Two men skirting the shadows. Had to be Clint and Andre. “No. Because he wants me that much. To Clint that’s the same as love. And hate.” She shrugged. “Don’t try to make sense of it.” She noted the parking row Clint turned down and turned to leave. “You okay watching Gibson? The cops will be here soon, and the fire doesn’t seem to be spreading.”

Micah nodded. “Go. I have this.” Before she could move he startled her by grasping her elbows. Then he did something she totally did not understand—but wished with all her might that she did. He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. “When this is over, come find me.”

No idea how to respond, she did what came natural. She shoved her confusion aside, turned, and ran.

<><><>

JENNA RACED THROUGH
the parking lot, heading to the rear of the mall where employees left their cars. Clint would never risk getting caught in the maelstrom of panicked shoppers escaping Gibson’s firebombs, he’d make sure his escape route was clear. As she circled around the corner, she spotted movement at the end of the row of cars, near the exit from the lot. A silver SUV with tinted windows. Light from an open door illuminated a man for a split second on the passenger side of the vehicle. Clint. But where was Andre? Already in the SUV? The door slammed shut and the light went out.

“Stop and show me your hands,” she shouted as she ran toward Clint, keeping several cars between them for cover.

“Don’t come any closer,” he yelled back, turning to face her. He raised his hand high so she could see he wasn’t holding a gun. Rather he held some kind of detonator. “I mean it. I’ll blow it all sky high.”

Did he have control of the explosives in the mall, not Gibson? She hesitated. Could she risk it? But he was so close, and she couldn’t let him take Andre as hostage. She skirted the next car, still heading toward Clint.

“Drop it,” she called out.

He laughed. “I really don’t think you want me to do that. I’ll end us both before I go back to prison.”

She couldn’t shoot him, not if the detonator had a dead man’s switch. But she also couldn’t let him go—not when he could still blow up the mall or kill Andre. She kept her pistol aimed on him.

“I’ll kill myself and your partner. You know I’ll do it, Jenna.”

She hated that he knew her name. The way he said it made her cringe, not only in revulsion, but in remembered fear. Fear of when he’d held her captive. Not this time. She wasn’t his victim. She was the one who was going to stop him once and for all, end this and save Andre. She steeled her will and her voice. “Deactivate the device and put your hands up.”

For a moment she thought he was going to comply. He sidled away from the vehicle, raising both hands. But then he spun and flung himself to the ground.

Before Jenna could react, the world exploded in a blast of noise and a rush of wind that knocked her off her feet. Car alarms shrieked all around her—the only sound that could pierce the ringing in her ears. Flaming debris fell from the sky, bouncing from the pavement that she swore was still moving beneath her.

Hands grabbed her and pulled her along the blacktop, away from the flames, and then hauled her to her feet.

“You okay?” someone shouted. Jenna blinked and Morgan’s face came into focus. But she didn’t care about Morgan. Andre. Where was Andre? She stumbled, turning around, and found herself staring into a maw of black, oily smoke and flames. The SUV. Clint had blown up the SUV. He’d been standing right there—had he killed himself along with Andre?

“Andre!” Jenna screamed even though she couldn’t hear her own voice. She lunged toward the blazing car, but Morgan tackled her. They both ended up on the pavement.

“No,” Jenna sobbed. But even she could see that no one could have survived the explosion. “No.”

Clint warned her. Told her what he’d do. And now Andre was dead, and it was all her fault.

Morgan was hugging her, holding her in place as if worried that Jenna would try to leap into the flames. Jenna turned in her embrace, pushing back to give herself room. She raised a hand, used it to wipe her tears, surprised that it came away streaked with blood and mucus, and stared at it for a long moment. Then she stared at Morgan.

It wasn’t Jenna’s fault that Andre was dead.

She slapped Morgan so hard her hand stung with the blow. Morgan, for the only time since Jenna had met her, was caught off-guard, the slap rocking her back against the car behind her. Her eyes blazed, the whites showing around her dark pupils, and she held one hand to her cheek. Then, without saying a word, she climbed to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Jenna spat the words with all the venom and pain that pulsed through her veins. Somehow she was standing as well, even though she didn’t remember exactly how she’d gotten there.

Morgan’s gaze raked the parking lot, ignoring the burning SUV. “I’m going to find Clint. I’m going to find him, and then I’m going to kill him.”

“You idiot!” Jenna was screaming and didn’t care. “Clint’s dead—he just blew himself up, along with Andre.”

Morgan frowned. Uncertainty danced across her face. Jenna might have even enjoyed seeing her flustered if the circumstances had been different.

“No,” Morgan said slowly. “No. He wouldn’t kill himself.”

“He would if the alternative was going back to prison. He’s dead. And he took Andre with him.”

“Maybe…” She shook her head. “No. We need to find the truth.”

She walked away, vanishing into the smoke. Leaving Jenna alone.

MORGAN HEADED BACK
toward the mall, but a cordon of local police were controlling the entrance, guarding the first responders who were getting the wounded out. She fell back, using the anonymity of the crowd, pausing only to lift a cell phone from one of the unsuspecting gawkers.

She dialed Micah. He answered just as Jenna arrived, favoring Morgan with a death glare.

“Micah, ask Gibson if there are any more bombs,” she said, putting the phone on speaker and holding it so Jenna could hear above the sound of the crowd and the fire trucks.

“He says no.”

“What about at the arena?” Jenna put in.

There was another pause. “He says those are a diversion. Says the plan was for him and Clint to leave together, Clint was going to have Gibson wear the suicide vest in case anyone tried to stop them.”

A glimmer of hope crossed Jenna’s face. “So the vest was a fake?”

A longer pause. “No. He says it was real. Just in case Clint had to take someone inside the store hostage.”

“Right out of the Kroft brothers’ playbook,” Jenna muttered. “So he and Clint were going to escape in the SUV?”

“No.” This time it was Gibson’s voice. He sounded eager to help—made her wonder how Micah had accomplished that. But not too surprised. Micah was a good listener. “The SUV is rigged to blow. Clint’s plan was to kill one of the brothers in the explosion, the cops would think it was him, give us time to run.”

Morgan met Jenna’s gaze. “There’s another car.”

“There’s another car,” Jenna repeated the words as a prayer. She turned to the phone. “Gibson. What car did Clint take? Where would he go?”

“Silver Toyota. I don’t know where he’s headed.” Gibson’s tone turned spiteful. “But do me a favor, and when you find him, put a bullet through his head.”

Jenna clenched her jaw. “Micah, stay put. There’s going to be a lot of people who want to talk to you and Gibson. Just tell them what you told us.”

“Where are you and Morgan going?” Micah asked.

“Not sure yet, but we’ll let you know once we figure it out.” Jenna hung up before Morgan could say anything. “So. Where are we going?”

“You weren’t invited.” Last thing Morgan needed was Jenna slowing her down—or worse, rushing in and forcing Clint’s hand.

“Hell I wasn’t.”

Morgan didn’t have time for Jenna’s theatrics. “I can’t save Andre if I’m watching out for you as well.”

“Like I’d trust you to watch my back. Besides, this isn’t about you or me coming back alive. It’s about Andre. Period.”

“So if it comes down to a choice…” Morgan already knew who she’d choose, and she already knew who Jenna would choose. The hard one to convince would be Andre. His stubborn heroics were what had gotten them into this to start with. No matter that he’d been saving Morgan’s life at the time…in fact, that only made things worse. He was a good man, deserved so much better than what life had thrown at him—and yet, he’d been willing to sacrifice it all for her.

She couldn’t rest, not with that burden weighing her down. From the haunted look in Jenna’s eyes, Jenna felt the same.

“If it comes down to it, we knock him out, do what needs to be done, and drag him out of there. You good with that?” Jenna asked.

“Absolutely. Where’s your car?”

Jenna led her through the parking lot, skirting the crowd and the first responders. Straggling lines of cars converged at the main exits, people fleeing the scene and caught in a massive traffic jam. “Damn, this will take all night.”

“Follow me.” Morgan led the way on foot past the snarled traffic.

They crossed a strip of trees that separated the mall from one of the smaller shopping areas ringing it and then sprinted to the far side of the shopping center where there was a popular all night bowling pub. A few people stood outside, gawking at the lights and smoke, but no one was paying any attention to the cars.

Since she had none of her usual tools—including her phone with its universal electronic vehicle access program—their selection was limited. As Morgan decided on an older but well-maintained minivan, Jenna’s phone rang.

“It’s Andre,” she said eagerly. As if she thought Andre had overpowered Clint and escaped his custody. Morgan started to caution her, but too late, Jenna answered it. “Andre?”

“No, Jenna. I’m afraid Mr. Stone is a bit indisposed at the moment.”

“If you hurt him—” It was an empty threat and they all knew it.

Clint chuckled. “You have something I want, I have something you want. Let’s make a deal.” He said the last in the overblown tones of a game show host. “I’ll give you your precious Mr. Stone in exchange for a hundred thousand dollars and my daughter.”

“Done,” Jenna said before Morgan could protest. “When and where?”

“Midnight. Site of Morgan’s first kill. She’ll tell you how to get there.”

“That’s not much time—”

“Midnight. A minute late, a dollar short, any sign of the cops, and you’ll be scraping Mr. Stone into a pudding cup—or rather, what’s left of him. I hear suicide bombers often have much of their body vaporized by the force of the blast.”

He hung up. Jenna turned to Morgan. “Where are we going? Site of your first kill? Where’s that?”

Her words were a staccato jumble, sparked by hope. Hope was the opposite of what Morgan felt. She felt drained, empty of any emotion.

“When Clint first took me,” she said, wrapping her arms around her as rain began to fall. “He took me to a remote cabin. Up on Tussey Mountain. Taught me how to stalk prey. Survival skills. But first he made me kill animals he caught and staked out for me.”

“Boohoo for you. Where, Morgan? Tell me where?”

“It’s no good. You’ll never stop him or catch him. Not there. He knows those mountains, knows the trails, knows where to find cover.”

“I don’t care about catching him. I just want Andre back. Alive.”