A Righteous Kill (50 page)

McMurtry began to sing in Latin in that terrible voice she’d never heard from him in her entire quarter century of listening to him sing prayers in church.

Except for
once
, the last time he’d tried to end her life.

As he started in on the prayer for last rights, she truly began to despair. She wanted to kick out at him, but he held her so far over the water, and if he let go of her hair, she would fall in and that would be the end of it. She’d never been a strong swimmer, and even if she
could
break the surface, with her hands tied behind her, she would eventually drown. Working the tire gauge out from behind the leather thongs she desperately wished it was something—
anything
—else. Something sharp and deadly.

The approaching roar of an engine broke through the night and Hero almost screamed out her triumph, but feared the priest would drop her right away. She couldn’t turn her head toward the road to check, but she knew the sound of that engine. The distinctive roar of a patented Hemi rumbled inside the sleek black Dodge Charger.

“Luca!” she screamed, more thrilled he was alive than afraid of her own death.

Father McMurtry actually uttered a blasphemy, but his grip on her hair strengthened as he sped the resuscitation of her last rights.

He was nothing if not fanatical.

Luca yelled her name, and nothing in the world had ever sounded so sweet. The dock began to bob in the water as his heavy boots pounded up the length of the long pier.

McMurtry suddenly whirled around, bringing her with him as a shield for his body. Her cry of pain stopped Luca in his tracks.

Or maybe it was the gun the priest held to her head.

Chapter Thirty-Three

[I will] translate thy life into death, thy liberty into bondage…

I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways. Therefore tremble…

~William Shakespeare, As You Like It

Luca fought to maintain a steady aim of his weapon, but because of the darkness, the shaking of his hands, and shifting of the dock, he couldn’t get a precise kill shot without putting Hero in danger. Usually he was steady as a rock, but a strange weakness in his arms caused a strange and unsettling tremor. What the fuck was the matter with him?

Hero’s cry of pain wrenched at his insides and smothered the relief at finding her alive with a familiar rage.

McMurtry was going to die.
Tonight
. Slowly, if Luca had his way.

“I’m doing you a favor, Agent Ramirez,” McMurtry called from the dock. “I’m releasing you from this Succubus. You’ll no longer battle the pull of her temptation.”

“Put the gun down,” Luca ordered, taking a threatening step forward.

“One more step and she dies now!” McMurtry jammed the gun hard against her temple.

Luca could hear Hero’s whimper amplified by the acoustics of the stone bridge and the water. He drank in the sight of her. Helpless because she was so close.
Alive
, and yet out of his reach. The front of the golden blouse that had made his mouth go dry earlier that night was now soiled with dirt, and wet as though she’d sprawled front-first into the grass.

Had McMurtry hurt her? He couldn’t see any blood, but what if he’d been tempted to—

Luca’s temper was usually hot like a roiling fire in the center of his chest. Tonight, the fury felt different. Cold. Dark. Half fire, half ice, pulled from the deepest recesses of hell.

“No matter what happens tonight, I’m going to kill you,” Luca told him.

“You think that matters to me?” McMurtry looked taller now that he wasn’t stooped over. His shoulders were wide for not being hunched with age and pain. His body stocky and well-built. “I will go to the Lord as his servant. His warrior on this earth. You’d be doing me a favor.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” he said coldly, using the information from the frantic phone call he’d made on the reckless drive here. He never thought he’d be so happy to hear Professor Alec’s voice. Never thought he’d be so thankful to receive information from the man. “Your ritual isn’t complete.”

“What do you know of it?” McMurtry snapped.

“You need to sacrifice a man, one fornicating with your demon.”

A peaceful smile appeared on McMurtry’s face that affected Luca worse than all the horrors he’d ever witnessed. Combined.

“Already done. The Lord tells me he accepts Mr. Winthrop as a sacrifice.”

“Mr. Winthrop isn’t dead,” Luca said. “I lied on the news to draw you out of hiding.”

Come on, let her go,
he thought.
Come after me.

“Lies!” McMurtry screamed, causing Hero to jump and gasp.

“He’s in room fourteen-oh-three, eating pudding and enjoying a visit from his daughter.”

McMurtry seemed to consider this, the gun easing a little away from Hero’s temple.

That’s right. Point it over here.

At the worst possible moment, the familiar sounds of sirens and tires merged onto the park, strengthening the priest’s resolve.

The cold affected Luca’s vision, and he had to blink several times. The pier felt like it swayed wildly beneath him, but that had to be wrong. Only the dock rested on the water. He shook his head to clear it and felt an overwhelming pressure against his lungs. Fear had never affected him quite like this before. He felt different now, though. Hero was his world and he might be forced to watch as he lost everything.

“It’s true,” Hero said, her eyes wide and terrified, glancing behind him to the approaching army of police, FBI, and medics.

“Shut up, demon!”

Car doors slammed. Voices yelled in the distance.

“Stay back!” Luca ordered over his shoulder, but no one seemed to listen.

He swung his eyes back to see McMurtry’s finger twitch on the trigger, and Luca lurched forward before he could stop himself, putting out his other hand.

“Don’t!” His command came out sounding more like a plea. “Can’t you see she’s not a demon? She’s an
angel
. Let her go and you can have me. I’ll complete your ritual.”

“
No
!” Hero gasped.

McMurtry’s hand went from her hair to around her throat, squeezing her protests silent and cutting off her precious breath.

“I love her!” Luca yelled, stunning more than just the three of them. “God help me. I love her. Don’t—
you
won’t
take her from me.” He repositioned his gun, his cloudy vision clearing by the force of his sheer will.

McMurtry’s lips moved in the semblance of a prayer, and Hero’s eyes widened impossibly further as she fought for air and registered his words. They locked with Luca’s, full of love and hope and a message he couldn’t identify.

McMurtry’s gun swung toward Luca in the same moment a flash of metal caught the light as Hero’s shoulders jerked back. Did she have a knife?

A bark of pain escaped the priest’s lips. His gun went off, but the shot swung wild.

Hero dropped down, giving Luca all the room he needed for a kill shot.

By the time the sound echoed off the stone and steel of St. John’s Bridge, McMurtry was in a freefall off the side of the dock. At the last moment, he grabbed for Hero, pulling her into the water with him.

Ignoring the shouts of his colleagues, Luca barreled down the bridge and dove into the river, following the sheen of Hero’s gold blouse. The weight of his vest and gear made it easy to reach deep enough for her. She stopped struggling once he caught her around the waist, but his equipment fought him on the way up. His limbs felt unusually heavy, but he locked her tightly in his grip and kicked as hard as he could, doing his best to ignore his screaming lungs and the soul-stinging cold of the water.

Something was wrong with him. A creeping blackness blocked his vision of the surface. The pervasive pressure against his lungs grew strangely painful. He let out his breath in a flurry of bubbles, but it didn’t help. Hero was kicking her legs, too, but they didn’t seem to be ascending fast enough.

Luca fought the darkness. Maybe it was his punishment. Maybe it was his demons weighing them both down as he’d feared all along. But before they claimed him, he would give Hero her life.

Digging deep, past the pain and the fear, and the strange, oppressive confusion of his thoughts, he gave one last powerful kick, both of them breaking the surface with a screaming gulp for air.

Except his breath refused to go very deep. It wouldn’t get past that pressure in his chest.

Didn’t matter. Hands grabbed for Hero, and he pushed her toward them. Watching her body being lifted from the water was the sweetest relief. He didn’t even feel the cold any more. Didn’t even really worry about not breathing. Hero was okay. The pressure still grew against his lungs, but it was tempered with the knowledge that the woman he
loved
—the one who’d somehow taken possession of his black heart—was finally safe.

The mad man who’d threatened and terrorized her floated face down right next to Luca, the river water diluting his blood.

See you in hell,
Luca thought victoriously, as the black depths finally claimed him.

Chapter Thirty-Four

“Doubt thou the stars are fire.

Doubt that the sun doth move.

Doubt truth to be a liar.

But never doubt my love.”

~William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Heaven was everything he’d thought it would be, Luca thought. Bright white lights, a chorus of angels, and Hero smiling down at him from above.

“What are you doing here?” Luca asked, wondering why he couldn’t hear all the consonants that went in that question.

Hero blinked, sadness dimming her smile until it disappeared.

The sight made Luca feel weirdly frantic. “I saved you,” he told her through a burning throat. “Go back. You’re still alive.”

The smile returned, and her soft voice reached into his heart, releasing some of the anxiety. He didn’t register her words, not at first, but he latched on to the perfect vision of her face, convinced she was an angel.

Except…

She looked like she’d been through hell.

The corner of her bottom lip was swollen and her blood-shot eyes puffy. An angry bruise at her temple melted into her wet hair. She wore a shapeless white gown and smelled like anti-bacterial soap.

She was the most radiant, gorgeous, welcome sight Luca could ever hope for.

He tried to reach for her, and pain exploded somewhere beneath his chest cavity granting his vision a harsh clarity and returning his other senses to him with a brutal, jarring crash.

Strong but gentle hands restrained him, and he was told by a stern male voice not to move. Luca wasn’t in the business of following orders, but in this case, he’d relent. He felt hot and dry and not unlike a rotisserie kebab.

He needed water.

He remembered feeling so much pressure inside he feared he would explode. That was gone, but now he felt like the victim in one of the
Alien
movies, with his middle ripped out.

“Here,” Hero crooned. His eyes fluttered closed and he relaxed, the restraining hands left him and the glorious sensation of an ice chip was pressed between his lips, then another and another until he shook his head.

She really
was
an angel.

“Agent Ramirez, do you know where you are?” a male voice asked.

He lifted his lids, but only enough to squint. The bright white lights were corporate-issue florescent bulbs. The choir of angels happened to be Christmas music piping in from the hallway. “I’m in hell,” he groaned.

“Close enough.” Dr. Karakis made a note on his clipboard and patted Hero on the shoulder. “I think he’s going to be fine.”

Did this guy just live at the hospital, or what? Luca looked down across the expanse of his chest, but bandages and a blanket restricted his view.

“What the f—”

“I’d say you’re this year’s Christmas miracle.” Doctor Karakis smiled in that easy way of his. “Getting shot at point blank range is mighty dangerous, even with a vest on. It broke a few ribs and subsequently caused some pretty severe internal bleeding. You almost didn’t make it.” He shook his curly dark head like he couldn’t believe it.

Luca’s eyes flew wide. “Vince! Is he—”

Hero shushed him, running a cool hand over his forehead. “He’s fine. Bullet went clean through, and he’ll have a bit of healing to do.”

Luca relaxed.

“The other agent’s injuries were minor, and Father Michael is recovering close by,” she informed him.

All of those gunshots and no casualties.
That
was the fucking miracle.

Karakis cleared his throat. “Well, I’m going to put in an order and grab a painkiller for your IV, then I’ll be back to check on you.” He quietly left them alone.

Luca drank in the sight of Hero, catching every nuance of her apprehensive expression. If anyone was a miracle, it was her, and he needed to make sure she knew it.

“I meant it,” he said.

“Oh, thank God.” Big silent tears slipped down her cheeks, and she released his hand to dash them away.

She knew what he was saying, but he felt driven by the need to give her the words. They scared the shit out of him, but he could no longer stand to play the coward in her eyes. “You were right. I love you. And I was afraid of it.”

The tenderness in Hero’s smile nearly undid him. “It’s okay to be afraid. I’ve scared away braver men than you.”

He didn’t doubt it. “It wasn’t you.” Luca needed her to know that. “It was me. I haven’t known you two months, and you made me want things I never even allowed myself to think about.”

“What things?” she whispered.

The part of his brain that was ruled by self-preservation screamed at him to shut up, but the power of his emotion—probably helped by strong medications—overrode his fear. “A future, love, a mortgage, a yard, commitment, stability—”