“You’re serious?” Nate rolled up the map and rose to his feet, a half– smile already forming—but Chloe wasn’t smiling, and the barrel of her semi stayed steady.
“I’m not getting screwed on this one,” she said.
“Chloe, come on,” Nate said. He started walking toward her, sure that she would come to her senses. She had to know he wasn’t planning to steal from her. “This is nuts.”
The smiling, Airting woman he’d gotten drunk with the night before chambered a round when he was ten feet away.
“Don’t,” she said, a thread of steel in her voice, and aimed at his guts.
Nate froze. She didn’t look like she wanted to shoot him, but she was clearly prepared to follow through. “You don’t have to do this, you can trust us.”
She shook her head, stepping closer. “You have no idea who you’re partnered with, do you? I mean, you don’t even know what really went down.”
“Went down with what?” Nate asked. What did I miss?
“Sam, who do you think?”
Nate felt a hollow open up inside. “What are you talking about?”
Chloe shook her head again. She was close enough that he could see she regretted saying anything, the fine lines around her mouth tight, brow furrowed. There was something like pity in her gaze. “Ask Sully,” she said.
“No, tell me,” Nate said. “What went down with Sam?” Chloe lowered the gun slightly, stepping closer.
“You’re a good guy, Nate,” she said, looking into his eyes, and—
WHAM! The lights went out.
* * *
She caught him across his cheek and temple with her trusty Walther and he dropped like a weight, out cold before he crashed into the salt. She picked up the bulky roll of map, tucking it under her arm.
“Too good,” she added more gently, and turned for the door, refusing to let herself feel guilty. She’d told him who she was, it was on him if he hadn’t listened. And really, it was a favor, pushing him and Sully out of this hunt. Nate had talent, but his naivete would get him killed before he had a chance to wise up. Sully was a dishonorable crook with more balls than brains, but he didn’t deserve to die for it. Given what was at stake, they were lucky they’d run afoul of her and not one of Moncada’s hired killers.
They’ll sulk home empty-handed, and Sully will pop up in a few years with some new venture. Victor Sullivan would never let a little betrayal ruin an opportunity; he’d have a new partner, someone he hadn’t yet fucked over, and would declare that bygones were bygones. She hoped that Nate would…
Nothing, you don’t hope anything. Get moving.
On the way back into the antechamber, she pulled the gold keys from their lock, tucking them into her bag. They’d passed three small offshoot tunnels after the well trap, and she’d seen a sewer grating at the end of one of them. She hadn’t pointed it out to Nate—which was about when she’d realized that she meant to go through with all of it, even after Nate had saved her life. Chloe didn’t always stick to the outlines of things, she was willing to pivot mid-stride if her instincts said so, regardless of the incentive. But drowning had reminded her of how sloppy Sully was, and Nate’s faith in him was a serious liability.
The cold antechamber rang with the thin sound of metal screeching, echoing from the impossibly high ceiling. Sully would find his way down, soon, and she needed to be gone.
Chloe Aicked on her Aashlight and hurried under the arch that she and Nate had come in through, shivering in her damp clothes. She knew better than to go back to the apartment—best if she and the boys didn’t see each other for a while—but she had a go bag in the car. Wherever she landed for the night, a long, hot bath was top priority.
The weight of the crosses felt good against her shoulder, the leather-backed scroll like silk in her hand. She picked her way through the tunnel debris, affirming to herself at every step that she’d made the right choice, the only choice.
* * *
With a final squeal, the last rusty screw stripped free of the masonry. Sully pulled up the grate and tossed it aside.
“Nate,” he said. “Did she take the map? Tell me we got something.
Anything!”
Nada. Sully clicked the earpiece a few times, then gave up, staring into the opening. It was a drop to the sharply slanting ditch below, but if he could swing in near the top of the incline, maybe he could—
Footsteps behind him. Sully turned, and saw Braddock striding across the square, eyes blazing. She’d retrieved her gun, it seemed.
Sully stood, Aicked a glance toward the plaza’s west exit, and saw the silhouettes of two big men standing in the arch there.
“Great,” Sully said. “You’re just in time for the bad news. There’s no gold, Jo.”
Braddock didn’t stop until she was next to the well, too far away for him to charge her, close enough to block an escape.
Jeez she looks mad. Her expression was icy calm, but her gaze burned. “I’m telling you the truth,” he said. “There’s nothing down there, not
anymore. Chloe Frazer screwed us both.”
“For once I believe you,” she said, and raised the semi.
Sully put his hands up, fixing her with a pleading look. He was cornered in an alcove, nowhere to run. Scotty had spotted him when they’d fanned out from the restaurant, dodging across traffic
“Come on, Jo, we can talk this out.”
Braddock felt a fierce glee unfurl inside. How delicious, to see him beg! But she wouldn’t drag it out this time, she wanted him dead and had him in her sights, at a safe distance.
“No more talking,” she said, closing her left eye as Sully shifted back a step.
She aimed at his black heart—
—and he disappeared.
Braddock ran forward, saw the hole he’d dropped into and fired into the square of darkness, losing count of her rounds in the red-hot rage that swept through her.
Scotty and Hugo were suddenly at her side, Scotty shining a small light into the open drain.
Nothing but rocks. Sully was gone.
Braddock took in some air and holstered her Sig, exhaling heavily, releasing the madness and banking her resolve. Someone would come at the sound of shots fired, and she refused to let her hate for that lucky fuck overwhelm her common sense. Without a word, she led the boys toward the square’s west exit. Sully was a pest, quick to run and hard to kill, but their paths would cross again. If he hid, she’d find him. And next time, she’d shoot first.
* * *
Sully dropped hard and cartwheeled down the rock chute, smashing an elbow and then a knee trying to arrest his fall. He heard shots but then he whacked his skull and only heard ringing, crashing down into the cold blackness.
He tucked into a half-assed shoulder ball just in time for the chute to end abruptly. He Aew through the icy dark—
—then his shoulder slammed onto hard rock. He didn’t pull off a roll, more of a crappy somersault, and he lay Aat on his back for a minute, counting a dozen minor agonies and listening for anything more from Braddock. He didn’t think she’d follow him down, but as pissed as she was, he wouldn’t put it past her. He sat up tentatively, surprised nothing was broken… and realized he could see some of the tall, clammy room he was in, the soft glow of firelight coming through a low door ahead on his left.
Sully crawled to his feet and limped toward the light, doing his best to shake off the pain—no easy task, once forty was in the rearview. He ducked down and through the door, coming up in a bigger room with about a ton of salt spilled across the middle, broken pottery everywhere. Sputtering torches hissed along the massive stone walls—
—and there was the kid, sprawled out on the salt beach next to a big chunk of red clay. No sign of Chloe, surprise surprise.
Sully hurried to Nate, took a knee next to him. He was breathing, that was good. The kid had a red mark on his left cheekbone that was already purpling up nicely, and a swelling bump over his ear. Pistol-whipped.
“Kid,” Sully said, and patted his unbruised cheek. “Wake up.” Nate groaned, tried to turn away from the increasingly firm pats.
“Nate, wake up,” Sully persisted, tapping the other side, and Nate’s eyes rolled open. After a scary few seconds, they actually focused.
“Good, you’re alright,” Sully said, sitting back on his heels. “She got you pretty good.”
Nate sat up, wincing, and then looked at him, making eye contact and holding it. Sully was expecting an apology for letting Chloe get the drop on him, or maybe he’d seen enough of the map to point to their next move… But the kid went in a different direction entirely.
“What happened to my brother?”
* * *
Sully’s gaze shifted down and away, then up. Even with his brain rattled, Nate could see him looking for a way not to answer.
“No, stop thinking about the next lie you’re gonna tell,” Nate said, staggering to his feet. “Where’s Sam? The truth.”
Sully stood up with him, but stared at his own shoes for a long minute. “I should’ve told you before, but… your brother… he’s gone, kid.”
“Lost, not gone,” Nate said automatically, but Sully was finally making eye contact—and he looked sincerely sorry, and he wasn’t lying.
“You said he bailed, you said he ghosted you,” Nate said. His own voice sounded far away to him, numbness spreading out from the hollow pit in his stomach, enveloping him. Sam’s dead?
“He didn’t ghost me,” Sully admitted. “We went down into the captain’s tomb together, to find the journal. It was there, right where Sam said it would be.”
Sully jammed his hands in his pockets, looked away. “We were on our way out, but Braddock and her guys—they cut us off. Opened fire. Sam got shot…”
No, no, no—
“And me, I saw a way out, so…”
The numbness fell away like a switch had been Aipped. “So, you just left him there to die?”
“There was nothing I could do,” Sully said, but then he sighed and shook his head. “Or maybe there was. I don’t know.”
And the hits just keep coming. Nate ached all over, but the physical pain paled next to his hurt and growing fury. He’d known not to trust Sully after the auction, but this was some next-level bullshit. Sam had been shot; Sully had run away and then lied his ass off about it.
“How could you do that? How could you not tell me?”
Sully scowled. “I knew if I told you, you never would’ve come with me.”
“And why was that so important?” Nate erupted. “What the hell am I doing here? Me, and not anybody else?”
Sully chewed his lower lip for a second, studying Nate’s face. Nate could see him decide to come clean, and his anger spiked higher. Who the fuck is he, to decide what I have a right to know?
“Your brother believed there was a final piece,” Sully said. “A last trick the Eighteen played, so if they were ever forced to give up the location of the gold, the Moncadas still wouldn’t get it. As usual, he was right.”
Sully bent and scooped up a handful of salt, let it sift through his fingers. “Sam knew what that trick was, but he wouldn’t tell me. I thought maybe he said something to you, or sent you something. He talked about you a lot.”
“That’s what this was about? You dragged me over here, let me believe I’d see Sam again, because you think I know something?”
Sully looked up, his expression a weird mix of apology, worry, and… hope?
“Do you?”
“Wow,” Nate said. “You really just asked that.”
Sully looked a tiny bit ashamed, but his sharp gaze was still studying Nate’s response, searching for the truth.
As if I haven’t been straight with him from the get-go. As if he hasn’t been LYING to me since the day we met. About everything that matters.
“You said it’s money that changes you, makes you greedy and selfish, but you know what I think?” Nate asked, with no intention of letting him answer. “I think that’s just who you are. There was never some better version of you. You’re a shitty human being, Sully. And whatever this was, it’s over.”
Nate walked, scooping up his backpack on the way out, leaving Sully standing alone in the heaps of worthless salt.