Ultimate Sins (7 page)

“It's over,” he stated, and Wayne knew the message wasn't for the journalists or the world that would see it. “This ends it.”

He pushed through the microphones, journalists, and cameramen to make his way from the caverns that led from beneath the mountain he had always called home to the lake that lapped gently against the sheer cliff rising from the edge of its waters.

Fury rode Wayne hard as he picked up the unregistered cell phone he'd acquired from the rough table in front of him and punched in the number he knew by heart.

“Callahan,” Crowe answered immediately.

“It isn't over,” he snarled, teeth clenched. “It isn't over, Callahan.”

Crowe laughed.

That laughter struck at Wayne, enflamed the fury burning through him.

“Then come get me, Wayne,” he chuckled, pure amusement racing across the line. “Because it's all mine now. The treasure you could have had if you'd just asked for it, the daughter you tormented, the town you tried to destroy. It's all mine.”

Wayne disconnected hurriedly, the faintest hint of a click over the line assuring him the call was being traced. Pulling the device from his ear, he stared at it for a long moment, his chest heaving, fury tearing through him, before he suddenly threw it and watched it hit the wall across from him and shatter.

“It isn't over!” he screamed in fury, jerking from his seat and pacing to the window that overlooked Sweetrock.

The hunting cabin was well hidden; he'd made sure of that. It was the only haven he had left until he could arrange his escape from the States.

And there would be no escape until Crowe Callahan suffered. Not until Amelia lay dead and bleeding while Wayne watched that bastard take his last breath.

It wasn't over.

They had committed the ultimate sin of stealing the last dream Wayne could cling to. And he had committed the sin of infecting his daughter with his filthy touch.

It wasn't over …

A smile curled at his lips, his gaze narrowing as he considered one last play he could make. It was iffy, he admitted, but workable. It was a last-resort maneuver, but he needed a miracle at the moment. And he'd planned for just that to aid his escape. Instead, he'd use it to aid the Callahans' destruction. Yes, it just might work.

Three days later

It was almost over.

That mantra had been all that had kept Crowe from going insane over the past ten days.

It was almost over.

Now it truly was almost over.

The discovery of the cache of pirate gold and lost treasures in the Colorado mountains had stunned not just the Callahans, but the country. Televising the moment the cavern was breached and allowing the world, allowing Wayne, to see it first, had accomplished his aim, but in a way that, Crowe admitted, he hadn't expected.

He'd expected Wayne to come after him, not the actual treasure as it lay under close guard in a secure safe room at the offices of Brute Force.

That one, he'd surprised Crowe with.

Surprise or no surprise, Crowe had been waiting for him. The son of a bitch hadn't even made it out of town before Crowe was on his ass in the powerful sports car his partner had loaned him. Just in case the need to chase Wayne to ground arrived. Now, maneuvering the powerful little car as it headed into the mountains, Crowe could see the end in sight.

Sirens blasted from behind as the sheriff followed closely, racing behind Crowe's and Wayne Sorenson's vehicles while a news helicopter tracked the chase.

The car Ivan Resnova had loaned Crowe took each curve beautifully, hugging with expert precision. Crowe couldn't have asked for a more powerful ultra-performance vehicle to race through Corbin Pass and torment the other man with his inability to lose him.

The three vehicles were heading up the winding, dangerous pass road that wound its way up Callahan Peak, then continued to Aspen. The former county attorney was taking the sharp bends as though they were child's play in a tan sedan that had obviously been equipped with a hell of a motor.

Crowe knew Corbin Pass and Callahan Peak well. He knew better than to drive this road at the speeds they were currently clocking, but he'd be damned if he'd let Wayne get away now.

“Son of a bitch,” Crowe muttered as his borrowed sports car held the curves at ridiculous speeds while the car ahead of him nearly slid over the side of the mountain at the sharpest angle in a turn.

That sedan wasn't going to hold itself on the road for long unless the other man slowed down significantly.

“Call from Sorenson, Wayne,” the feminine tone of the Bluetooth announced over the earbud. “Accept or deny?”

God how he wanted to reject that call.

“Accept,” Crowe finally barked.

As though anything he could say or do could ever make a difference at this point.

“What do you want, Sorenson?” Crowe growled when the call connected.

“Should I prepare a list?” Wayne asked, his voice calm, sad, despite the effort Crowe knew it was taking to control that damned vehicle.

“Forget your list, Wayne,” Crowe said, fury and cold, hard mercilessness spreading inside him. “If you survive this mountain then you'll still have to deal with me. And you know what I'm going to do.”

“Kill me?” Amusement laced Wayne's tone. “So sorry to disappoint you, Crowe. Well, perhaps I'm not. But I can't allow you that pleasure, though I very much hope that should I indeed go over one of these cliffs, I'll have the pleasure of taking you with me. Too bad Amelia isn't here as well.”

“Keep hoping, asshole,” Crowe drawled, ignoring his mention of Amelia. “It's not going to happen.”

A hard breath echoed over the phone.

“Every time I see you, I see your mother, do you know that?” Wayne asked, his voice hollow. “All the fury of a woman betrayed mixed with the disbelief, horror, and shattered trust that comes when you believe a true friend was the one to steal the hopes and dreams harbored in your soul. That was my Kimmy as her eyes filled with tears, her lips trembled, and she begged for the life of that whimpering brat she held to her heart.”

His mother, Crowe thought. The son of a bitch had killed his own parents and his cousins' parents during one of the worst blizzards to ever rage in the area twenty-four years ago. All that had saved the newborn Kimberly Callahan held in her arms had been her pleas and some demented emotion the bastard had felt for her before her marriage.

Crowe clenched his teeth, forcing himself to listen, hating the bastard, but knowing the confession in the recorded call would be all they needed if Wayne somehow survived.

“I thought baby Sarah Ann would ease my pain,” he continued, speaking of the infant sister Crowe had believed was dead for so many years. “I knew she would be the image of her mother, and she is. But I never really see the heart and soul of my Kimmy in her.”

Silence filled the line.

“Are you there, Crowe?” Wayne asked softly.

Crowe didn't answer, only clenched his hands tighter on the steering wheel.

“Yes, you're there. I can feel the fury, and hatred. The pain,” Wayne said.

Crowe's teeth were locked tight, clenched to hold back the rage building inside him.

Clenched so tight that his jaw felt as though it might crack.

“It wasn't Sarah Ann that held her mother's heart and fire, though. It was you, Crowe. I think that's why I couldn't kill you in all these years. I couldn't kill your cousins, either. Kill them and you might actually leave. You might turn your back on everything here and never return. It took me until last night to realize why I hadn't killed you. That's why I couldn't do as I planned and just kill you after—”

Silence.

*   *   *

Crowe had to laugh.

It was a bitter, furious sound as he rounded another hard curve and watched the back end of the sedan fishtail again, dangerously, before righting itself.

“You can't even say it, can you, Wayne?”

Wayne snarled back at him.

“Then allow me. After you put a fucking bullet straight through my mother's heart and killed her in cold blood—”

“Never!” Wayne suddenly raged furiously. “God no, Crowe. Never. I had already killed the others, even her precious David. I was blind with rage and jealousy. I had to make myself finish it. I had gone too far.”

“You didn't have to do it,” Crowe snarled. “You didn't have to kill any of them.”

“They knew!” Wayne screamed. “You don't understand! Somehow they found out about everything. My past, my wife's death. The location of the treasure. They knew it all and they wouldn't even tell me where it was. I had to kill them before they made it to Sweetrock and the Corbins. They would have destroyed me.”

“Sucks to be you, Wayne,” Crowe bit out furiously. “And now you've lost it all. All we have left to find is your wife's body, right? Then I have no doubt Colorado will reinstate the death penalty just for you.”

“I won't let that happen.” Wayne's voice was guttural, furious.

“You don't have a choice,” Crowe told him.

“Tell me, Crowe, how will you continue to take my daughter to your bed, knowing my blood runs through her veins and will run in the veins of her children?”

“I'll handle that far better than you'll handle knowing I've always had her loyalty. Freely. From the time she was sixteen, Wayne, she would get hold of us and tell us everything you and our grandparents were up to,” he reminded Wayne. “I had her complete loyalty while you've had only her hatred.”

“No—” Wayne began.

“Yes,” Crowe snapped. “She has always been mine, Wayne, and you didn't even have a clue, did you?”

“You bastard!” the other man screamed.

Crowe watched as Wayne forced the car around the next bend without so much as hitting the brakes.

The car fishtailed, but rather than recovering like before the back end slipped farther, the driver's-side tire hitting the narrow shoulder.

Adrenaline raced through Crowe's veins. His gaze narrowed as he watched Wayne fight to recover.

Fought and failed.

Sliding, aware of Archer doing the same behind him, Crowe watched as the sedan slipped over the cliff.

Wayne's scream over the Bluetooth connection was cut off as the sound of the metal smacking stone reverberated through the canyon.

Increasing his own speed, Crowe raced around the next curve before twisting the wheel and sliding into a turn that put him on a dirt road leading to the canyon floor.

Sorenson wasn't the first victim Corbin Pass had claimed.

*   *   *

As the sports car straightened and headed toward the canyon floor an explosion rocked the cliff, causing the little car to shudder and nearly slip on the dirt road, throwing it sideways before Crowe could compensate.

A quick flip of the wheel, a harsh curse, and the car's tires bit into the dirt, pulling it back quickly as a fireball suddenly swept above the small canyon, nearly reaching the edge of the road before retreating.

“Burn in hell, bastard,” Crowe muttered as the sports car slid into the narrow canyon, rocking to a stop as he stared at the flames engulfing the sedan and the body that could be seen still sitting behind the wheel.

Crowe stepped from the car, standing next to it as Archer pulled in behind him, barely missing the back of Ivan's sports car.

Before the vehicle had stopped shuddering from the abrupt stop, the driver's-side door was flung open and Archer was out of the powerful wide-built jeep he drove and striding up to him.

They watched as Wayne's car and Wayne himself burned.

The flames were intense enough that Crowe suspected they were fueled by more than the violence of the crash into the canyon.

“He was fucking crazy.” Archer sounded shocked. “You know he patched me as well as that news helicopter into that call, don't you?”

Crowe hadn't known that. He was damned glad he hadn't said more to Wayne.

“Then you heard his confession?” Crowe stated.

“Me and every person watching on television,” Archer agreed.

What did it matter? It was over now.

The Slasher was dead.

“Nash and John are on their way,” Archer said. “John's going to be glad it's over. Maybe now he can relax and stop killing himself trying to watch over two sisters he's terrified he can't protect effectively.”

Amelia being one of those sisters. Hell, it was hard to believe the undercover agent was actually a son to the bastard.

“Yeah, it will be a hell of a relief,” Crowe agreed.

It just didn't feel right, and he couldn't figure out why.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose while a sense of foreboding had his shoulders tensing. Something wasn't right.

*   *   *

Wayne watched the vehicle burn. Somber, regretful.

He'd imagined one day getting to know the cousin now burning in the car he had rigged with an explosive.

As far as the cousin had known, he was being paid simply to draw Crowe up the pass where Wayne could assassinate him. He'd been more than eager to take the job, no matter the risks, just to have the money to pay the medical bills from his daughter's illness.

The other man hadn't even suspected what was coming.

Wayne had helped him don the latex mask that ensured Crowe would believe he was chasing Wayne. He had then given him precise orders.

Orders that had been followed implicitly.

Hell, maybe he should have considered partnering with that cousin rather than Thomas Jones all those years ago. Wayne had a feeling he'd have been the perfect partner if he'd chosen him before the birth of his daughter sixteen years before. Unfortunately, he had cared so much about that daughter that he hadn't considered the drawbacks or possible deceptions.

It had been too late to change the plan, though.

No one knew about the cousin, Jimmy Bowers, or his connection to Wayne. The man's DNA would be close enough to Wayne's to get the FBI off his ass, hopefully.