Buried: A Bone Secrets Novel Part 32

Those pictures. "Big f.u.c.king deal."

"What did you do with Jamie?" Brody's gun quivered.

One side of Gerald's mouth turned up. He saw no need to answer questions.

"Is she dead? Did you kill her, you f.u.c.ker?" Brody's arms shook violently with his question. "Where is she?"

Gerald wanted to just shoot the a.s.shole again and be done with it. But part of his brain knew the governor would be livid. Livid at the political scandal. Right now everything that had just happened could be written off as an accident.

He needed to get Brody out of the house. Blood pooled near his knee. He could wait and Brody would be unconscious in minutes.

"What I want to know is why that bus of kids?" A different voice spoke from Gerald's right. From the corner of his eye, he saw a man step into the dining room with a gun pointed at him. What the f.u.c.k? Gerald didn't take his eyes off Brody.

"I'll kill him! I'll shoot him right now!" Gerald yelled at the newcomer. "Shoot me and I'll have a bullet in Brody's heart a split second later." He had a solid wall four feet behind him. The other man couldn't move behind him for an advantage.

"Chris. Don't shoot." Brody breathed hard. "He needs to tell me where Jamie is."

"Jamie's downstairs. She's fine."

Chris Jacobs? Gerald grinned. "You boys got together? You must have a lot in common." Gerald saw Brody's gun waver the slightest bit, relief touching his eyes.

"More than you know," snarled Brody. "Put your gun down."

"No, f.u.c.ker! Why don't you?" Gerald kept his gaze on Brody.

"Go back downstairs," Brody ordered Chris. "I need to be the one to do this."

"No, I'm going to put a bullet in his brain," Chris insisted. "I will make him pay for what he did to me and my friends. Do you know how often I wished I was dead? While I was in that bunker and after? I've been looking over my shoulder all my life for this guy! And now he's right in front of me."

A new voice spoke. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Gerald smiled at the sound of his boss.

Thank G.o.d. Michael exhaled. Uncle Phillip had spoken from his left.

Now Gerald would back down.

Michael's rigid stance made his muscles shake, and his right side burned like a red-hot b.i.t.c.h. But he wouldn't remove his focus from Gerald. He couldn't.

"No!" Jamie's voice rang from Uncle Phillip's direction.

"Here's something for you, Gerald! Look what I found in the garage," Phillip said. Brian shot into the dining room, tripping over his feet and sprawling in front of Gerald. "This is the s.h.i.t that happens when you don't follow orders!"

Chris leaped forward but was too late. Gerald had already s.n.a.t.c.hed the boy, scrambled to his feet, and held his gun at Brian's temple. Michael glanced at Chris, who had his gaze locked on his son and his gun locked on Gerald's head. Chris looked stricken. His son was in the hands of his nightmare.

"Brian." Chris choked out the name.

Michael realized Phillip had shoved the boy into the room and now had a long blade at Jamie's neck. Her furious green gaze met Michael's.

He stared from Jamie to his uncle. "She's okay, Uncle Phil, she's with me."

Phillip had Jamie as a shield. Her eyes were bloodshot, her usually sleek hair raggedy, and she rocked on her feet like she could barely stand. Phillip met his gaze and shook his head.

Michael couldn't breathe; his lungs had no function. No, Uncle Phil...why? He swung his gun toward his uncle and faltered. "Uncle Phil..." His uncle didn't let go.

Michael swayed. "Let her go. It's Gerald, Uncle Phil. Gerald is the one-"

His uncle looked at Gerald. "I can't believe you fired a gun in my home!"

Gerald blinked. "Accident."

"There are no f.u.c.king accidents. Look where you've put us!" Phillip's face darkened.

Michael's vision narrowed, and events snapped neatly into place as his stomach heaved. "You knew," he accused his uncle, his gun shaking. "You knew what Gerald did!" Michael looked at Jamie. "I'm gonna get you out of here, princess."

Her gaze held his, and she silently moved her lips. Don't call me princess.

G.o.d d.a.m.n. He blinked rapidly, realizing he would do anything for her. Give up any possession, any job, any friends to simply spend the rest of his life in her presence and have her smile at him with those eyes.

"Now, Michael," Phillip said with a patient voice. "I don't know what's going on here, but barging into my home with a gun is uncalled for." His uncle wore his politician's smile, but his usually lively eyes were dead. The up and down of his emotions was unnatural.

"Uncalled for?" Michael's head buzzed, and his limbs quivered. "This isn't a political debate! A killer is your head of security. A killer who murdered children, stole children. My brother and Jamie's! Your nephew! Why didn't you do something?"

"Don't make me hurt your beautiful woman, Michael. We can work this out."

Michael swung his gun back to Gerald. Skin bulged where the muzzle of the gun dug into Brian's temple. Red fury hazed Michael's vision, and he heard Chris suck in a hoa.r.s.e breath.

Brian was silent. His gaze darting between his father and Michael.

"Shoot me and he'll slice the woman," Gerald threatened.

Both Michael and Chris shifted their aim to the governor, who pressed the blade against Jamie's neck. A drop of blood ran down to her collarbone. His uncle stared back at him, his eyes cold. Why does he still protect Gerald? Over his own nephew? Chris's gun swung back to Gerald.

Michael's mind raced. If he shot at his uncle, he could miss and hit Jamie. Either way, Gerald would shoot Brian.

If he or Chris shot at Gerald, the tattooed man's gun could go off and shoot Brian. Phillip would slice Jamie's neck.

There was no winning situation.

He met Chris's eyes. A deathly fury shone in his brother's gaze, but no answer of what to do.

For the first time in his life, Michael couldn't take a chance. His gut wasn't telling him what to do. There was too much at stake. It wasn't just his life; it was Jamie's, Brian's, and Chris's lives. Sweat ran down his spine, and he winced trying to clear his eyes. Fog started at the edges of his sight. He had to make a decision.

"Oh my G.o.d." Phillip's voice was ragged. Michael moved his gun in his direction and saw his uncle staring at Chris, his mouth slightly open. "Daniel."

"What?" Gerald frowned and studied Chris. His eyes widened. "Jesus Christ. Where is Chris Jacobs?"

Jamie let out a breathy sob. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Michael's heart split in pain for her.

"Chris didn't make it," she whispered.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n it! You told me Daniel was dead!" Phillip shouted at Gerald.

The room went deathly silent. Chris met Michael's gaze, and he knew they had the same thought. Why did Phillip care if Daniel was dead?

Both men swung their weapons toward their uncle.

"It was you," Michael stated quietly, locking eyes with his uncle. "You ordered Daniel killed. And all those other children got caught in the middle. You had Gerald do it. He was acting under your orders."

Phillip said nothing, and the blade bit deeper in Jamie's flesh. She gasped. Anger flushed his face.

"Why? Why? What did I do?" Chris screamed at his uncle.

Phillip said nothing, and Chris's finger trembled on the trigger. Brian sniffled in the silence. Chris swerved his weapon at Gerald again.

"You're a ghost," Chris spat at Gerald. "You're the Ghostman who killed my friends and ruined my life. My life and my family's lives...both of my families."

The Ghostman gave Chris a slow smile and moved his gun under Brian's neck, pointing it up into the child's soft skin. "I was just following orders."

"Gerald!" the governor roared.

"You ordered it!" the Ghostman shouted back, veins popping on his neck. "You wanted the boy dead. You said he saw you strangle that woman."

Jamie sucked in a loud breath, and Michael stared at his uncle.

Jamie felt another drop of blood run down her neck. The bite of the blade stung, and the man behind her frequently trembled. She smelled his sour sweat under the fresh scent of soap. He'd showered recently, but it wasn't enough. The tension sucked the oxygen from the room, and she quietly gulped for air.

The governor had found her and Brian in Michael's vehicle. She'd been telling Brian stories, talking quietly, trying to distract the boy and ma.s.sage some feeling back into her feet at the same time. Brian's gaze had shot over her shoulder an instant before she lost her balance and fell backward out of the vehicle as the governor yanked the door open. Her hands had grabbed frantically at the SUV, but her head hit the concrete floor, and she'd stared up at an angry man.

Now she watched Michael sprawl on his knees in the huge dining room. His arms were taut as his weapon weaved between his two targets. Chris did the same gun ch.o.r.eography as the men shouted and threatened each other. Michael looked ready to collapse. The pool of blood by his knees slowly expanding. His entire right side was drenched in red. How badly was he hurt? Every few seconds, his arms quivered.

Jamie wanted to vomit. There was no scenario in her head where this ended well.

"What woman?" Michael shouted at his uncle.

"No woman."

Jamie felt the governor's arm tighten across her chest. She wanted to do something. Kick him or elbow his gut. Do something! She was a strong woman, but he was a large, fit man, and she'd spent the last several hours locked in a trunk with her limbs bound. She was lucky to be upright.

"You said he saw everything!" the Ghostman shouted. His pale face flushed with an odd luminescence, like his blood was lighter in color than anyone's. Brian was holding steady. He watched everyone with his wide, dark eyes, not missing a thing. He sniffled occasionally, but Jamie was proud of her nephew. He was keeping his head.

Chris looked near the end of his rope. His feet were spread, his weight evenly balanced, and his gaze often locked with his son's. When he looked at the Ghostman, Jamie saw death rise in his eyes.

How can he handle seeing Brian with that man?

"I'm going to get you out of here, son," Chris said softly to Brian, ignoring the shouts of the other men. Brian tried to nod at his father and winced as the gun jammed farther under his jaw.

"Chris." Jamie spoke. She wanted to warn him to hold still, not be a hero. But how do you say that to a man whose son is being held hostage by a killer? Instead, she just looked at him. Chris met her eyes and gave an imperceptible nod, his gaze going back to his son and the Ghostman.

He understood what she'd wanted to say.

"Shut up!" the governor yelled at the Ghostman. His body felt hot and damp through the back of Jamie's shirt.

"You f.u.c.ked up, not me. You started this whole mess."

"You'd be sitting in prison for murder for the last twenty years if it wasn't for me!" The governor's voice shot up an octave on the last word. "You owe me!"

"I paid my dues. I got rid of that kid!"

"No, you f.u.c.king didn't! He's right there!"

What had Chris seen?

Her brother listened intently. "You're talking about the trip, aren't you? The trip where we went to the capitol building. I showed up at your office, and there was a woman on the floor. You said you were trying to help her! You thought I'd seen you strangle her? Is that what you thought?"

The governor sputtered.

"I saw nothing! I saw a woman who needed help, and I thought you were doing that!" Chris's gun wavered. "You had all those kids killed because you thought I saw you kill someone? And I didn't!" Tears poured down Chris's cheeks. "I saw nothing! Do you hear me? You ordered your own nephew killed, and I saw nothing!" Chris wiped at his face with one hand, the other keeping the gun on the Ghost. "Ah, f.u.c.k me. All this...all this for nothing!"

Michael couldn't breathe. Tiny spots sprouted at the edge of his vision.

Uncle Phil did this. He did it to all of us.

"Let Jamie go, Uncle Phil." His uncle's name burned on his tongue, but he said it on purpose, reminding the man who was in the room. His family. "Things can't get better if something happens to Jamie or Brian. There's no way to spin this to get the public's support. This is over."

His uncle clenched his jaw, and Jamie winced. Michael focused on her face, blinking, trying to clear his head of the mess he'd just learned. All that mattered now was getting her out safely. Before loss of blood had him dropping his gun.

"Put down the knife, Uncle Phil."

"No. This isn't my fault."

He sounded like a defiant child.

"I've done valuable things for this state. Just think what might not have been achieved if I wasn't governor. Or during my years as a representative. I am important."

He's nuts. A new spike of fear rose in Michael's chest.

"That woman was n.o.body. The type of person who wanted to use me to better herself. Two f.u.c.king dates, and she tells me she's pregnant? And it's mine? I couldn't risk it." His uncle tightened his grip on Jamie, his pupils huge.

Something moved in Michael's peripheral vision.

Phillip's body slammed forward, and his head whipped back as he was tackled from behind. The momentum knocked him and Jamie to the floor, and she cried out as Michael's father landed on top of them. The knife vanished between the wrestling brothers. Michael crawled across the floor to the group, his right arm collapsing under his weight. A gunshot thundered from behind him in the room, but his focus stayed on Jamie. He pulled up, lunged, and grabbed Phillip's ankle. The man kicked, his heel catching Michael in the mouth. He tasted blood and spit.

The Senator straddled his brother's back and slugged him in the right ear. Phillip thrashed, nearly throwing Maxwell Brody off to the side. Jamie twisted and shoved and pushed at the two men, trying to escape from underneath.

The knife appeared in Phillip's hand, and he frantically stabbed backward at his brother's thigh. Michael's father shouted and grabbed at the knife, the blade slicing his hand. Blood quickly covered the floor and group.

Michael grabbed Jamie's hand and tried to haul her out from under the men. His right arm screamed at the effort. His left hand held the gun, useless in his untrained hand, but he was unwilling to set it down. She rolled onto her back and kicked at both men, who fought each other on top of her covered legs.

Michael's gaze locked on his father's thigh. The blood wasn't seeping; it was spurting in time to a heartbeat. Phillip had sliced the artery, and Maxwell's heart would force the blood out of his body until it was gone.