Her Hollywood Hitman: A Dark Romantic Suspense (15 page)

“Come on,” I beckoned. But slightly behind him was a much shorter shadow, a shadow I recognized immediately. My father. And he was holding a gun to Red’s temple, the surface pressed firm against that lovely, freckled skin.
 

“No,” I shouted. “No! You can’t! You can’t! This isn’t fair!”
 

I gasped and blinked my eyes, trying to adjust my vision to the bright sunlight of the Los Angeles day, trying to make the vision of my father disappear. But I couldn’t make him leave my sight—he was just as real as Red, the man who had risked his life, his reputation, his everything. All to save me. Red had cut me free, and he’d saved me. We were going to be
okay
. We’d see the end of this mess together. But no.

“Life isn’t fair, princess,” my father said, licking his lips, a reptilian gesture. “I’m so sorry that I have your violent little boyfriend in this position, but you see, I never thought you’d like such a man. I’d love it if you’d done your job and gotten together with that nice Hollywood producer. He would have helped you so much, maybe even changed your mind about your career. But no. Sorry, my darling, but this guy right here, he knows too much for his own good, and he’s tried to cross me one too many times.” My father wiggled the gun against Red’s temple.

Though the expression on Red’s face was as cool and collected as ever, I could see beads of sweat forming right at his hairline. He’d thought we were free too. But instead of freedom, we’d stepped outside into a nightmare.

“Red,” I whispered.

“Gabi, get on out of here. Go back inside. You don’t want to see this.”
 

“Oh is that right?” Art chuckled. “You’re the one, Red, the one who put her in such a miserable situation. And once I’m rid of you, I’ll be able to get on with my damn life, you Irish son of a bitch.”
 

Red growled in response. “Think again, you piece of shit,” Red said through gritted teeth. “I’ve kept the evidence all these years. I was too scared of what you might do to me, too scared of dying, too scared of getting locked up.” He looked at me, those blue eyes searing into my soul. I wanted to reach my hand out to his, wanted to take him into my arms and tell him everything would be fine. But I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be fine, not with my father in this position. And my life, it seemed, wouldn’t be worth living if my father pulled that trigger.
 

“You’ll never squeal, Red. And you ain’t got any evidence. You were the only witness.”

“Yeah, I was, you sick shit. But I have part of her dress. The green dress.”

“Watch your mouth, boy,” Art said. My father’s eyes darted to mine.
 

“Oh you think I don’t know what you did? You think I hadn’t figured out through all of this that you beat my mother to death? Red’s got evidence, and you’ll be put away for the rest of your life. Just put the gun down, Dad, and you might not get the death penalty. Killing another person? In cold blood? On the day of your arrest?” My father looked flustered, the orb of his head turning bright pink.
 

“Gabi, sweetheart, this is a misunderstanding, ain’t it? I didn’t do anything, and I don’t know what this man’s been telling you...”

“Those men from the cartel,” I said, my voice hoarse and angry, “They were the ones who gave me the final hint. I’d suspected it for
years
.” Red raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. My father’s eyes darted all over the place. He wasn’t ready to accept that he was finished. I kept my gaze glued to the gun, to the hand that was holding it. He had started to shake, tremors overtaking his wrist. He was scared.
 

Good, fucking good. You should be scared.
 

I heard sirens coming down the long, winding road to my father’s manor. The end was coming soon, and Art would be out of my life for good. All I had to do was get my shit together and keep him from hurting the only man who had ever been any good in my damn life. Red.
 

“And here they are, Art,” I said. “That’s right. Your stupid goon? Freddy? He’s been working with them all along.”

“Oh, Freddy? He’s bleeding out on the floor of my office, sweetheart,” my father said, tightening his grip on the gun and thrusting it in Red’s temple. “And I’m about to take care of this idiot too. If Freddy’s the only one who’s got that evidence, then he’s done for. Alls I gotta do is take care of this piece of shit and get the fabric off Freddy’s corpse. Honey, turn away. Daddy’s gotta take care of this business.” The rage boiled inside of me. I had never liked the look of Freddy, but he’d helped us when no one else would.
 

“FBI’s already got the evidence,” said Red, his body icily still. Art looked away for one moment, his gaze turning toward the sounds of the cop cars. I took my chance and put both hands on my father’s arms, strength and anger meeting in my body, a mighty rush of adrenaline taking me over and making me into a beast. I took a deep breath and kneed my father as hard as I could in the balls. His face contorted in pain, Art released the gun, and it clanked down on the manicured stone patio.
 

“Fucking bitch,” he groaned, scrambling for the gun. Red was quicker though, like lightning. He grabbed the gun my father had held and emptied its cartridge. Red sneered and kicked my father in the gut. He pulled his own gun and trained it on my father. Red pulled me close in a side embrace, his eyes never leaving my father’s miserable face.
 

“You’re done, Art. Whether or not you got Freddy, the FBI’s got a huge fucking file on everything you’ve done. And Freddy’s got that piece of fabric already sent off to a lab. It’ll show your blood, mixed with your wife’s, you nasty, dirty piece of shit. Drug a woman and beat her to death. Make me do your dirty work and clean it all up. Well, I was smart enough to take a souvenir. I knew there would come a day that I’d be able to stand up to you, and I needed that last card in my deck.”
 

“Fucking... Red...” Art groaned and clutched at his stomach. The first police car rolled around. A policeman and a man in plainclothes hopped out of the car at the same time, guns pointed at Art. Red nodded to them and put his own gun away.
 

At the same moment, Freddy appeared at the door, a makeshift tourniquet tied around his leg. He hopped out and leaned on the railing. Though his already gray face was even paler, he smiled.

“Good job, kid,” he said, nodding my way. “This fucking guy, right?” He sneered in Art’s direction. Red and I both laughed. Another car pulled up, lights flashing. The policeman we’d first seen ran up to Freddy and helped him down the stairs just as an ambulance pulled onto the scene.

Red pulled me into his arms and kissed me. In the background, I heard Art shouting and the clinking of handcuffs closing together. But all I could feel was the man who held me, the man who kissed me. I opened my mouth to his hunger, letting myself melt into him. He pulled away for a moment. We both watched as the men pushed Art’s head down and forced him into the police car.
 

“Gabriella, I didn’t tell you,” Red said, smoothing my hair and pushing it behind my ear, “But the reason I’m not afraid anymore... well it’s all because of you. Gabriella, I love you. If I weren’t such an awful person--“

“Red,” I said, “Shut up. You’re not a bad person. You killed a man who hurt your family,” I whispered, and they won’t take you away for that. Don’t you get immunity or something?” I felt the tears rising up. “I... I love you too, and you can’t go. Not when I’ve just found you. You can’t go.”

“I’ve got to. These guys know who I am, and they know that I’m here.” The policeman who had helped Freddy walked up to Red and cleared his throat.

“Sorry we have to do this here, buddy. But Redmond North, you’re wanted for questioning in the murder of your father, David McGuire. It’s part of the deal, ma’am,” the policeman said, looking to me. “If you’ll come with me peacefully, sir, I’d appreciate it.” Red pulled his hands away from mine, but I tried to hold on to him, gripping his fingers tight.
 

“I’ll be fine,” he said, stepping toward the cop. “The best thing you could do is forget about me Gabi. I’m no good.” I let my hand slip away from his. He stepped into the second cop car, and the tears came, flowing down my cheeks.
 

I was left standing there, alone, as the cars pulled away toward the station.

Red

The cop car was hot and smelled like the sweat of a thousand bodies that had been hauled off to the LAPD. I looked around, wishing I could roll down the window, but cop cars ain’t set up that way. I saw enough of them in my youth to know.
 

“The guys are going to take you in to explain the night of Rose’s murder, and then I’ll come back for you to talk about your father.” The officer—Fisher, I recalled—was supposed to be a friend of Freddy’s and an all-around decent sort of guy. I nodded and looked out of the window, wishing Gabriella was beside me.
 

Gabriella. Seeing her stand there, watching the cars as they left. There shoulda been some sort of law against making the girl stay there by herself. But the cops didn’t need her, at least not now, and she was just left behind. Like she didn’t have any involvement. Like she hadn’t lost a damn thing at all. She’d lost her innocence, her father, the only family she’d had for years and years. And I’d borne witness to it all. I wanted to smash the window, roll out of the car, and run back to her. With me in jail—or worse, according to Art’s threats all these years—there would be no one around to comfort her, no one to protect her.

But still, it was better this way. I was no good, and someone needed to get Art to pay for the person he’d become. I wondered how it had all started for him--if he’d been a sociopath all along, or if he’d grown into this evil man over time, his heart growing blacker and blacker with each turn.
 

I thought of that night—not the one with Rose, the one with me--that night he’d come to me, just as my father had taken his last breath. Damn, I was just a kid, and I’d trusted Art so much when he’d said my father needed to go, that he’d hit his wife and little girl one too many times. And worse. He’d made me write it all out, and I’d done it. God help me, I had. I was sure Art had already brought that up with the cops as a bargaining chips. He had held onto my written confession for years. His last bargaining chip, and I was sure he was going to use it.
 

But still, this was right. It was time for me to pay.
 

We rolled into the station, where the FBI agents and undercover police who’d been working Art’s case waited. In all my years as a criminal, I’d never once worked with the police. But Gabriella had changed me, made me into a man who could do the right thing. Freddy had assured me that my criminal work for Art wouldn’t come into scrutiny—they had the man they wanted. But my father was a different matter. The worst crime I’d committed—the one Art had me on the line for.

 
I was pretty damn sure they all knew who I was by now. Freddy said they had thought I came to work for Art from Los Angeles. That’s how well Art had covered his trail.
 

“You ready?” The portly cop looked over at me and turned off the engine.
 

I nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Fisher walked around and opened the back door of the car, then gestured to the entrance. With a hefty sigh, I stepped out and up to the station, wondering what lay ahead of me. I could only hope that I’d be able to get away from gen pop as much as possible. I wouldn’t mind staying to myself, staying away from the people who could kill me. And who knew, maybe they’d let me out for good behavior in twenty-five years. The cop walked behind me, a nasty, shadowy reminder of the mistakes I’d made. He led me to a room where I would meet with the detectives working the Rose Dawson case. The Hollywood Rose murder, finally solved. Or just about, anyway. I sat down and swiveled in the chair, staring off into space for what must have been minutes. But time seemed to fade away, and a great weight had started to lift away from my shoulders.

I might not ever be free again, but for once, I was doing the right thing. I had been fixing Art’s messes for years, but on this day, I was fixing my own. And I was worthy of the woman I loved. My beautiful Gabriella would suffer for a short while, but I’d be nothing more than a passing fancy in a few months. There would be some strong, good man in her future, and it wouldn’t be me.
 

“That’s just fine,” I said. “As long as she’s safe.”
 

“Is that so?” A crackly old voice startled me. I looked up and saw a leathery old cop sitting across from me. He’d slipped into the room so quietly that I hadn’t noticed him.
 

“Aiken is the name,” he said, extending a hand. I shook it, and I wondered then why I wasn’t in cuffs--why they hadn’t bothered to cuff me at all. I was there as a criminal, wasn’t I?
 

“Redmond North. Or Redmond McGuire. People call me Red.” I leaned back in my chair and raised an eyebrow.
 

“You claim you were with the accused on the night of Rose Dawson’s death.”
 

“I was. And I gave the fabric I’d saved to Freddy.”

“We’ve got it. It’s in the lab right now. We’ve been working with the FBI for years to get a conclusion to this case.” The cop shifted in his chair and crossed one leg over his knee. “I always thought it was old Art who did it. But his alibi was always crystal clean. You helped him out with that, didn’t you?”

“I helped him cover it up.”

“And why was that?”
 

“He was the boss. He had dirt on me and definitive evidence. And now I’m turning myself in. Funny how things happen.”

“Funny, yes.” The cop paused for a moment and laced his fingers together, cracking his knuckles loudly. “You know Rosalind Dawson had a trace of a rare poison in her system when she was found? We had trouble isolating the compound, but it appeared to be similar to rohypnol. It made her pass out, and then the bastard beat her to death. Allegedly, that was Art.”