Chapter Thirty-Five
Jack dropped his gun and dove, following Ava, one hand clinging to the rail of the building, one hand reaching—reaching—
And then his hand closed over her wrist, and she was there in his grip—he had her, he had her.
For one long horrible moment Cale was still falling, mouth open, arms reaching up toward them.
Then there was a crash below, Cale’s body making impact on the concrete.
Ava’s scream was piercing.
Jack hauled her up until she could reach the railing, which she scrambled over, red dress and all, and then he pulled himself back up, too.
Clara had a gun in each hand, staring them down. “That was impressive,” she said. “It’s a shame you won’t be leaving this rooftop.”
“You have what you wanted,” Jack said, stepping in front of Ava.
Let the first bullet find him, at least. Let her have a chance to run.
“Cale did this. Cale shot one of the investors—maybe he knew something about the insider trading—and then killed Carson and then himself. You have everything you wanted. Cale out of the way, the company yours. All of it.”
“You cannot imagine the amount of goddamn incompetence I have put up with from both of them over the years,” Clara said coldly.
“But you must know, Jack. That is your real name, isn’t it?
You must know that you were never going to walk away from this.
Did you know that the first three people I spoke with wouldn’t touch a target like Cale with a ten-foot pole? ”
“Figures,” Ava said shakily, but her head was held high. “He was a gross piece of shit. Much like you.”
Oh, Ava.
She was going to be the death of him.
“You were stupid enough to take this job.” Clara ignored Ava’s bait. “So that means you were never going to walk away from this. And little miss Ava here was always going to be a problem.”
“We won’t be a problem,” Jack said. “We’ll just get on the helicopter and leave.”
“Why?” Clara asked. “Why her? You work alone. I know you do. Nobody ever finds you, and nobody even knows you’re behind the hits you’ve done, that they’re connected at all. So why did you let her get to you?”
She sounded genuinely curious, as if she could not fathom feeling anything for anyone that would stop her from reaching her goals.
Jack took the smallest step forward he could, and then another, closing the space between them inch by inch.
“Because she’s as bright as the fucking sun,” he said.
“Because she’s determined and fierce and funny and because she’s better than I ever was.
Because she deserved the life you stole from her, and she deserves a life after this. ”
Clara scoffed. “I can push a button and have security swarm us up here,” she said. “Why do you think they stood down earlier? Why do you think there were so few barriers between you and my brother? I let you get as far as I wanted, and now—you go no farther.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Ava said. “That’s a load of shit.
You didn’t plan all of this. You’re not some genius mastermind because you’re rich.
You didn’t even start this company. All you had to do”—she stalked forward, her shoulder slamming Jack’s as she passed him—“was get lucky. You were born into your wealth. You didn’t earn this, you’re not smarter than anyone else for having it, and you were stupid enough”—she jammed a finger against Clara’s chest, ignoring the gun still in Clara’s hand—“to get stuck on the rooftop, holding the gun that killed Carson.”
Clara’s gaze flickered. “I can make that go away,” she said. “I can make you go away.”
Ava moved so fast Jack barely registered what happened.
He had taught her this, though, back in the motel—
She grabbed the gun by the barrel, twisting as she ducked out of the way. The gun fired, the shot going wide, and then Ava peeled the gun out of Clara’s hands and sent it flying. It arced over the edge of the roof and dropped, following Cale to the ground below.
And then Ava had Clara by the wrist, her other arm hooking Clara’s waist and—
“Was that a hip throw?” Jack asked her as Clara hit the pavement with a thump. He pulled his remaining gun—it had been strapped to his back beneath his suit jacket.
“Maybe,” Ava snapped. “Help me get her up and into that helicopter.”
Clara protested immediately. “You won’t get away with this,” she said. “You won’t.”
“Oh, I think we will,” Ava said. She looked at Jack. “Why did you save me? Tell me right now, and no more bullshit. No more lies.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” Jack said.
He took Clara’s arm, pinned it behind her to hold her there, and talked over her yells and flails.
“I thought I could keep you safe, that I could keep the client happy until we killed Cale together, and then I’d just get you safely away.
But I never even considered doing it, Ava.
That’s the truth. The whole truth. I got the text asking me back when we were burning the SUV, and even then I couldn’t imagine doing it because I—I love you, Ava. ”
Was it the wind on the roof that robbed him of breath, or was it the words he was saying? Or was it the truth in those words, the truth that took his breath away? That after all this time, Jack O’Sullivan was still capable of the kind of love that left him trembling?
He hadn’t felt this way, not since that little fifth-story apartment building with sunlight streaming in. Not since he’d been clinging to Jay’s hand, hoping the world would turn out right.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Clara said. “Now is the time for this? Let me go, and I might still let you live. Your whole situationship is—”
Ava’s fist landed hard on Clara’s nose, blood spurting immediately. “Would you shut the fuck up?” Ava said, withdrawing her fist, which was bloody at the knuckles.
Jack would need to stop and get her some antibiotic ointment, and bandages. Maybe he could find some of the kind they made for kids with special prints on it. Ideally strawberries.
Ava turned to him, her fist still raised, blood dripping down her knuckles. “Well, I love you, too, you dumbass,” she snapped at him. “Now, can we get out of here? And if you ever agree to kill me again—”
“You’ll probably sabotage me, steal a car, and send the cops after me. I know.” Jack leaned in and kissed her, one blinding moment with his lips on hers, and then he drew back and started dragging Clara toward one of the helicopters.
“So you do know how to drive a helicopter?” Ava asked. “Or—do you call it driving? Flying? Piloting? Whatever.”
Clara was still bleeding profusely, but she struggled in Jack’s grip. “You’re going to add a kidnapping charge to all the murder charges?” she said. “You won’t get away with this. They’ll find the bodies, and come after the helicopter, and—”
“Oh, we only have to get to your private landing strip,” Jack said. “Which is—what, Ava? About a ten-minute flight from here?”
The private airstrip, where private jets would be landing over the next few hours for the gala, was a few miles down the road—shorter by helicopter.
Ava wrinkled her nose at him as she stalked across the rooftop toward the helicopter. “I mean? You’re the map nerd. How am I supposed to know how long a helicopter flight would be? Why don’t we just send Clara to join Cale and then get out of here?”
“No,” Clara said, struggling against Jack’s hold again. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“You ordered a hit on me,” Ava said, turning to look at Clara as they reached the helicopter. There was a fierce spark in her eyes, something that was almost a smile but not quite. “He’d empty his clip into you if I asked him to.”
Jack’s heartbeat accelerated, his pulse pounding as he looked at Ava, bloody knuckled in her red dress. She was right: He’d do anything she asked him to.
Anything.
“I’m going to tie her up,” Jack told Ava. “You watch her while I fly. Don’t take your eyes off her.”
“Damn,” Ava said, taking Jack’s offered hand as she clambered into the helicopter. “That’s a shame. I wanted to do . . . other things while we were in the air.”
Clara looked horrified. “In my helicopter?”
“Would you rather we throw you out of it when we get high enough?” Ava asked her.
Jack pulled a coil of rope from the helicopter, probably one used for lifting or lowering cargo—he’d seen these even in commercial fliers—and bound Clara’s wrists and then her ankles. “Stay put,” he said. “She’s meaner than me.”
He looked at Ava as he climbed into the pilot’s seat. “Can you trust me? It’s going to be loud in a minute, and we won’t be able to talk—and I don’t think I really have time to explain—but I have a plan.”
Ava’s hesitation was long, the moment taut between them like a cord about to snap. Finally, she nodded, settling in beside Clara.
“I trust you,” she said.
And Jack opened the throttle.