57

Kelly, Kelly, Kelly

Kelly ended the call with a decisive stab of her thumb; the last thing she needed right now was someone telling her to calm down. The gun was heavy, slick with rain. She knew a little about them. Enough to know how to shoot someone so they wouldn’t get up. Enough to know that Bryce had had the safety on the whole time.

But God, how she wanted to shoot him. Not Bryce; the man had been reduced to a trembling wreckage.

No, she wanted to shoot Drew.

She wanted it so much that she knew she couldn’t do it. Because, if she shot him, he wouldn’t get up again.

Ever.

It might have been his story, the one he’d just laid on Bryce like a meat tenderizer. But she had a feeling it was more than that. Because that one story… Drew didn’t sound terribly proud of himself. And not because of guilt, but because of how hum-drum it was to him.

Sure, he’d set up his wife’s accident, in effect murdering her. And sure, he’d done it without anyone finding out. But what about before that? Because the man sure as shit wasn’t shaken up by it. Not the confession, not reliving the memory.

Was it because so much time had passed? Would she able to speak about killing someone as if was a thing of the past… even if it had happened less than a year ago?

Or was it because it wasn’t the first time? Had there been other times that Drew had set the world right — at least in his own perspective?

The thought made her fingers tighten over the grip of the gun. She kept it trained on Drew.

“Enough talking.”

Drew gave her a quick frown as if he’d forgotten she was still standing there. Then he shrugged. “Sure thing.”

“The police are on their way.” Rain was beginning to work its way down her back and through her clothing. She shivered, wrapping her other hand around the gun for extra support.

“Guess that’s only fair,” Drew said. “After all, wouldn’t want anyone else suffering at Bryce’s hands.”

His brother glanced up, frowning as he wiped furiously at his eyes.

“At Bryce—?” She cut off, waving the gun toward Drew’s twin. “He’s done nothing.”

“Sure the cops will see it that way,” Drew said quietly, tipping his head down and studying his hands where he’d laced them between his legs. “After all, it’s his gun. You’re both high. And I have absolutely no reason to hurt my brother.”

“Like hell you don’t!”

She jerked, swinging the gun toward Bryce. The man had his hands on his knees, fingers white. He sat forward as if about to lunge at Drew.

“Hey!” She took a quick step closer. “Put your seatbelt back on.”

Bryce’s face twitched with irritation. He turned his head to study her, fastening his belt with exaggerated care.

“Now we’re all just going to sit tight until—”

There was movement at the corner of her eye. Bryce’s eyes flashed away from her, toward Drew. She spun, the gun arcing through the air.

But she was too late.

Drew’s elbow drove the wind from her lungs and sent her crashing down the short flight of steps leading inside the boat. White lightning sparked across her eyes. The jolting pain from her head shot down her spine, to her legs. They caved under her, sending her sprawling to the rain-slick deck.

The gun spun away across the deck. Drew’s foot slammed down.

Bryce let out a yell, already loose and surging forward from his seat.

But he was also too late.

Kelly grabbed hold of a railing, hoisting herself up in time to see Bryce trying to wheel back from Drew. The man had both hands raised, face slack with terror.

Drew advanced a single step. Spread his legs. Aimed.

She screamed when the shot rang out.

The sound snapped through her like a physical force. She cracked her head against the door behind her, reeling forward with both hands on the back of her head as pain whipped her.

Something gripped her hair. Yanked her up the stair. Turned her to face the slowly expanding pool of diluted blood staining the deck.

“Can you see it now?” Drew hissed in her ear. “Hey, Kelly, baby? Can you see how different we are, now?”

“Drew, please, I—”

“Don’t bother,” he said, tossing the gun aside as if it had lost its use. He wrenched his shirt up, wadding it up against his nose and flinching. “If I was going to shoot you, you’d already be dead.”

He released her, and she fell to her knees with a cry. Scrambling forward, she grabbed Bryce’s jacket and tried turning him over. But he was too heavy. Too unresponsive.

She pressed her fingers to his neck, not even knowing if she was doing it right. Not even knowing what to feel for.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” she mumbled. She spun around, glaring at Drew through the rain as the man stood a few feet away, watching her. “You’re going to jail. You’re going to rot there. I saw everything! I heard what you did…”

Drew lifted a finger. Then he smiled and slowly pulled open the door leading inside the boat. He dropped his shirt, wiped at the blood oozing from his nose with the back of his hand, and gestured inside. “Shall we get out of the rain?”

She shook her head hard, spraying rain from the tips of her hair.

Drew cocked his head, and then tipped his chin to where the gun still lay, dull and dark under the heavy rainclouds.

“You’ve called the cops. And I can’t hurt you now. At least let’s wait out of the rain.”

She turned back to Bryce, shaking his shoulder. “Bryce. Bryce!”

“I doubt he can hear you with that bullet in his head.”

She plucked her hand away, cradling it to her chest with the other and got unsteadily to her feet. When she twisted to the front of the boat, Drew was holding the door open for her. She glanced past him, blinked hard, and then slowly walked forward.

“I won’t bite,” he said, grinning through blood-stained teeth. He spread his arm wide she wouldn’t have to touch him walking by.

She was on the first step when his fingers touched her hair. “Duck — don’t want you knocking your head.”

Shuddering at that touch, Kelly ducked her head and stepped down into the galley. It was tiny, that room. Her hip was right against a sink, and less than a pace away there was a padded berth, the middle folded up to form a seat. Scuba gear lay everywhere; several air cylinders had been stacked in the space between the seat, three suits lay discarded across the pale leather like deflated dummies.

Pink, green, dark blue. Those colors scorched her retinas and left afterimages in their wake.

Drew’s footsteps followed her, only slightly muffled by the drumming rain.

When she glanced at him over her shoulder, he gave her a sneering, lopsided grin.

“Oh, Kelly. Kelly, Kelly, Kelly.” He put his head to the side. “How naive can one person be?”

There was something in his hand when he drew back his arms. An air cylinder?

Whatever it was, it drove pins and needles and an all-encompassing blackness through her when it connected with the side of her head.