Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“I thought you said she was okay.” Asher stared at his sister in the bed, hooked up to monitors. Her eyes were blank, focused on the ceiling.
His mom grabbed hold of his arm. His body stiffened as he looked over his shoulder at her. Every fiber in his being was ready to shred the bastards who had done this.
Tears poured down his mom’s face, and she pulled him toward her for a hug. “The doctor gave her something to relax.” Her voice was muffled against his chest as she cried. “Sarah was trying to get off the bed. Screaming. Crying.”
His throat burned, anger torching a sharp line down the center of his body. His hands gathered into fists at his sides as he pivoted out of her grasp to observe Sarah in the bed. “What the hell happened?” His temper flared so hard, his words were a hard echo striking the very air in the room.
“There was a shooting at that club Angelo owns.” She dropped down into the chair by the bed.
He knew that part, but he’d hoped his mom would know more. He’d read the news about the shooting on the flight back to the city, but the details had been sparse: it was still an active investigation.
He moved closer to the bed, where his sister remained lifeless. The bullet had torn through her bicep, but thankfully, the rest of her had been untouched.
“Did you know your sister was hanging out with Angelo?” He could hear the blame pinging off the walls.
He nodded without facing her. “What happened to Angelo? How exactly did he die?”
“Someone . . . shot . . . him,” she said between sniffles. “One of the bullets hit your sister.”
A targeted kill. And his sister had gotten hurt in the crossfires.
“No idea who is responsible?” Nausea swelled in his stomach; he pressed his closed hand against his abdomen.
“The police say it was a gang-related hit, but Angelo’s mom told me he wasn’t involved anymore.”
He whirled to face her; he’d had no idea she still spoke with Angelo’s mom. After their fathers had gone to prison, he had assumed they’d lost touch.
“The detectives tried to question Sarah, but when she learned Angelo didn’t make it . . .” She closed her eyes. “I had no idea she was seeing him. His mom didn’t know, either.”
“Asher.”
His stomach dropped at the sound of his sister’s voice, and he turned to her, reaching for her hand. “Sarah.”
She blinked a few times and rolled her head to the side to see him.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry.” He bent down to kiss her head. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
“He’s gone,” she said, liquid gathering in her eyes. “Why?”
He gulped. “I’ll make this right. I promise.” He kept his hold on her hand, but he looked back over his shoulder to see Luke and Jessica outside in the hall.
He’d felt her presence somehow.
He’d told both Luke and Jessica not to come because this wasn’t their fight. But more than that, he was worried they’d try and stop him from what he had to do next.
Jessica stood before him, her eyes wide. “This isn’t war. You can’t take vengeance into your own hands. Not here. Not like this.”
He eyed the ink on his arm, the brush of failure darting down his spine, leaving pain in its wake. “What difference does it make where I kill? Murder is murder.” His shoulders shook at his words. “And that’s what I already am: a killer.”
He’d been grappling with what he’d done in Austria, and now . . .
How easily had he succumbed to wanting to kill again in the name of justice?
She grabbed hold of his bicep and lifted her chin to peer into his eyes. “No, you’re not.”
“I am,” he seethed and leaned in closer to her. “I killed Egon.” The truth dropped hard between them.
She didn’t respond.
He added, “There was no hostage.”
Her eyes thinned.
“And maybe I would’ve killed Samir if it weren’t for you.” He had no idea anymore what he was capable of.
Jessica had almost died.
Now his sister.
Two women in his life had their lives on the line, and he’d do anything—even sacrifice his soul—to make things right.
“No.” A line crossed through her forehead. “If you killed Egon it was because you had no choice. I know you. You don’t—”
“Maybe you don’t know me at all.” He needed her to see the ugly truth, to know he wasn’t such a good guy after all.
He could never be like her. Forgive a murderer.
No, hell fucking no.
“The guy was on his back with his hands in the air, begging me to live, and I put a bullet in his forehead,” he said through gritted teeth, allowing the anger at what Egon did to Jessica to thrive inside of him again, so he could feed off it like fuel.
Her gaze cut to the floor as if she couldn’t look at him, as if she finally realized he truly was a monster. And it was what he wanted. What he needed so she wouldn’t try and stop him from going after Angelo’s killer.
He shifted out of her reach, stormed to the window in his office, and pressed his palms to it. But damn her, she came up behind him and touched the center of his back. “Whatever happened to Egon . . . it doesn’t matter.” A quietness filled the space between them, but only for a few moments.
“You can’t just forgive me for that. It doesn’t work—”
“I can, and I will.”
He spun to face her, almost hating her for taking it so easy on him. He didn’t deserve it.
“If you go after him, you’re not just off the team—they’ll put you in prison.” She shook her head and her eyes closed. “Do you want to end up alongside your dad?”
His breathing slowed a touch. The team was everything to him. She was everything.
Could he throw everything away for the sake of retribution?
Her lids lifted, and the liquid in her eyes made them shimmer. “I just got you, Asher. Please. I can’t lose you.”
“I need to fix this,” he said, his voice calmer now.
She was winning the fight—breaking him down, even though he didn’t want her to.
She pressed her index finger to his chest. “How? How will you fix this? You’ll either end up dead yourself or behind bars, and—”
“That was the choice I was faced with once before, and I—”
“Joined the Navy and made the right call.” Her palm went to his chest, his heart beating erratically beneath her palm.
He heaved out a deep breath and looked heavenward. “I can’t let these animals roam the streets.”
His hands tightened into fists at his sides as he thought about Angelo, about the bastard who’d killed him and nearly murdered his sister.
He peered out the window, doing everything he could to avoid looking at her. But he squinted in the harsh light of day as the gleaming sun reflected off the building across the street and hit him, placing his sins on view. Everything exposed.
“Angelo was trying to be a better person, right?” She brought her hands to his face, forcing his eyes to behold hers.
“The last thing he’d want is for his death to have you going backward when he’d been trying to go forward.
” Her eyes glinted with unshed tears. “Sarah needs you. Your mom does, too. The team. Me. We can’t lose you. ”
He reached for her right wrist, her pulse climbing beneath his thumb, matching his own. “I’m a fighter. A killer. What if it’s the same damn thing?”
“No, Asher. Every life you took in the past was—”
He removed her hands from his face and looked away. “Was what, Jessica? A bad guy?”
“Yes!” She reached for him again, refusing to give up on him.
His gaze lowered to her face, to the tears gliding down her smooth skin. She’d been keeping so much of herself hidden for years, but now, the evidence of her emotions was in plain sight. She was baring everything, but what if he didn’t deserve it?
He wanted to wrap his fist around his heart and squeeze so it turned to dust. The struggle for breath grabbed hold of him, and a tremor rocked through his body.
“Let me help you find the men responsible for Angelo’s death, and we’ll put them behind bars where they belong.” She tilted her head. “We’re a team, remember? You go.” Tears flowed down her cheeks now. “I go.”