Chapter 14
Matt
Shit. I should’ve known Emily wouldn’t come in here without a plan to take us all out.
I run a quick assessment of the situation. Aron is closer to the window, so he has an out. It’s a two-story drop, but it’s an out. I might—might—get lucky and be able to dive through the door at the last second. That leaves Percy vulnerable, though, and I can’t just abandon him to her sick whims.
Meeting Aron’s gaze across the room, I can see in his eyes that he’s made the same decision as me when it comes to Percy.
Damnit, Aron! You have the best avenue of escape. Use it!
As if he can read my mind, he shakes his head. He won’t leave our faithful guard.
Now comes the big question: How is she wired? Is it a Deadman’s switch? A remote detonator? Is it timed? Does she control the detonation herself? So many important yet unknown variables.
Shooting and killing Emily could set off the bomb, but at the same time, not shooting her and allowing her to choose the moment of her demise could end us all.
To keep the conversation moving and potentially distract her, I ask Aron a question I already know the answer to.
“When did you last defuse a bomb, Aron?”
“Couple months ago, but I’ve been reading up on new techniques.”
“Good.”
Emily barks out a high-pitched laugh.
“You think you can defuse this? Oh, Aron, no amount of reading will help you. I designed this bomb myself. I’m actually quite proud of it. There are redundancies, fail-safes, and hidden triggers galore.”
Well, that’s comforting. I fight the urge to roll my eyes as my sister’s cocky claims.
“Since when did you become a munitions expert, Em?”
“Oh, Matt. Mattie. Don Matteo. There’s so little you know about me.
” She waves the knife around, spreading more droplets of blood.
“Aron met me after college. I was a smart little cookie, you see. I specialized in bioelectronics and, yes, munitions. I can jury-rig just about anything, given the right components.”
It figures that Mom would mold Emily into a psychotic little killing machine. It makes me wonder if she was responsible for the bombs that killed my father and many of our top officers that fateful night.
She probably rigged the bomb that killed the poor pregnant woman to fake her death.
While Emily talks, Aron inches closer, moving away from the window and potential freedom. He’s not quite close enough to wrestle the knife from her grip, but it seems I’ve got enough of her attention that she hasn’t noticed him creeping closer. I need to keep her talking, keep her distracted.
“You graduated magna cum laude too, I presume?”
Emily scoffs. “Who cares about degrees and fancy accolades? When I had the knowledge I needed, I dropped out and set to work finding the love of my life.” She looks at Aron with obsession in her eyes.
“I see you moving closer, baby. You don’t have to be shy.
I still love you, even after your filthy betrayal. ”
Damn. I guess I didn’t have her as distracted as I thought.
“You keep talking about betrayal like you’ve never done it yourself,” he says, freezing in place just out of reach of her knife.
“I told you, baby, I didn’t know we shared a father.”
“You said that, yes, but the facts don’t align with your story.” His every muscle is taut, coiled, ready to move at the first opportunity.
She pouts. “You don’t trust me.”
“Not as far as Maria can throw you.”
The mention of their daughter may have been a mistake on Aron’s part. Something shifts in her expression. It’s subtle but undeniable: the obsession has morphed into pure hatred.
“You took my baby girl away from me,” she snaps, shoving Percy to the ground at her feet and advancing on Aron with the knife, poised to attack. “That bastard enforcer of yours may have done the deed, but you gave the order.”
Before Emily can change her mind, I grab Percy’s collar and drag him behind me.
He coughs and rubs his throat, which is already showing signs of bruising.
Keeping my gun trained on Emily, I squat down and check Percy’s back.
The cut appears to be superficial. As long as Emily doesn’t explode, he’ll be okay.
“You’re damn right I gave the order. I couldn’t leave my daughter in the hands of a cold-hearted, manipulative bitch.”
A squeal of shock pierces the air, and Emily steps closer to Aron. For each step she takes towards him, he inches back, but soon he’ll run out of room. She’ll have him backed against the window, and now she’s too close for him to have time to open it and jump.
Everything’s fucked. With Emily here, we can’t initiate the order to take out the Empire, nor can we call off the operation. Our hands are effectively tied. I want to shoot her, to fucking end her miserable, twisted life, but unless her bomb is a bluff, I’d risk blowing us all up in the process.
Could it be a bluff? Would Emily really risk orphaning her daughter for revenge?
Time to reassess.
Emily’s nuts, but some part of her wants her daughter back. Is that part, the maternal, nurturing Emily, strong enough to override her psychopathy? It would be a gamble at this point to find out, unless …
“Emily.”
Her head whips around, but she doesn’t fully turn away from Aron. “What?”
“Tell me about Maria. I never got the chance to meet my niece.”
A small muscle in Emily’s jaw starts to tic. Her grip on the knife loosens a fraction, and her shoulders relax beneath the bloody raincoat. Did my tactic work?
The seconds tick by as her eyes dart between Aron and me. This could tip her over the edge either way.
I’ve either just saved us or doomed us all.
Finally, Emily breaks out in what would be a serene smile if not for the blood covering her face.
“Oh, Mattie, she’s perfect. She has our mother’s eyes and her father’s dark hair. She’s going to be a stunner when she grows up. Aron will have to fight the boys off with a stick.”
Her arm holding the knife lowers, and I risk moving a couple of steps forward, hoping she interprets the motion as my taking interest in her words.
“Even this young, you can see the intelligence in her eyes. She looks at everything with such wonder and amazement. She’ll be a philosopher or an artist, I’m sure of it.”
“She sounds amazing.”
Another two steps. To keep up the facade of interest, I allow the barrel of my gun to drop an inch or two. Just enough to seem like I’m starting to trust her, but not so much that I can’t act if need be.
“Don’t forget to tell him about her smile, Em.”
Aron must have picked up on what I’m doing. He’s playing along, goading her into continuing.
“Oh! That smile!” She puts her free hand over her heart. The motion shifts her coat, and the wires of the bomb come into view. I still can’t tell what kind of bomb it is, but maybe Aron can.
“Mattie, her smile will move mountains. Everyone who sees it just melts for her.” She turns a little more towards me. “You know, they say at this age it’s just gas, but I know better. A mother can tell.”
At this point, Emily seems to have forgotten that she’s holding a knife.
She’s gesturing wildly as she waxes philosophic about her daughter’s many attributes.
The raincoat falls open, revealing several blocks of C-4 strapped to her chest. Aron’s eyes narrow as he assesses the visible components of the bomb.
I don’t see a timer, which I consider a good sign.
I can keep distracting her at my leisure.
“Does she have that smell? You know, the special scent that babies have?”
Emily puts both hands over her heart now. “She smells amazing. Even changing her diapers is a joy. Mattie, you’re missing out by not having children. They’re such a blessing! God’s special gift to the wor—”
She doesn’t get to finish.
A thin trail of blood oozes from the bullet hole Aron put between her eyes. Emily wavers on her feet for a second before crumpling to the floor in a heap.
Aron wastes no time. While I help Percy to his feet, he grabs the knife and starts cutting wires. When he sits back on his heels and wipes his brow, I assume the bomb is disabled.
“What now?”
Good question, Percy. What now, indeed?