Page 209 of Burning Daylight
I shake my head. “I’m not my father. I don’t play your game.”
“You already did,” he says, smiling faintly. “The moment you showed up at that gallery in California. The moment Juliette smiled at you, and you smiled back. The second you called your father, and he asked you to come home.”
My chest heaves.The art show?I look at my mother.
Of course.It was her who got me that show. And hadn’t I thought it was strange Juliette was there, of all places?
Jesus Christ. Is anything about my life real?
Juliette stirs behind me with a soft groan. My breath stutters at the sound.
Frederick clocks it instantly. “Oh, she’s waking up? That’s inconvenient.”
He raises the gun.
My heart stops, and my vision goes red.
I lunge.
We hit the ground hard. My elbow connects with his ribs and the gun skitters across the dirt, landing just inches from the cliff’s edge. We both scramble, blood and dirt marring our skin, and I hear Juliette’s voice behind me, weak and disoriented.
“Roman?”
I grab the gun first.
And I don’t hesitate.
I aim it at Frederick’s head.
He freezes beneath me, chest rising and falling with short, shallow breaths. There’s a scratch down the side of his face and blood in the corner of his mouth.
My mother screams, but she doesn’t come to his aide. Instead, I hear her turn and run. I don’t look to see where she’s gone, all I know is that she’s not near Juliette, and she’s not next to me.
I don’t take my eyes off of Frederick.
My hand shakes as I press my finger to the trigger.
“You won’t shoot me,” he laughs, his hands raised in mock surrender.
Something catches my gaze behind him, and hope surges through me like a wildfire.
My armhurts, bits of rock and twigs embedding themselves in the flesh, but I ignore it.
I flip the safety, the click loud in the air.
Frederick’s eyes widen, and then I lift the gun from where it’s aimed at him, and lay it in the outstretched hand of Lance.
I stumble back as soon as Lance takes my place, and I run over to Juliette, who’s barely conscious and still laid out on the ground.
“You’re really the biggest piece of shit, aren’t you, Freddy?” Lance says.
I expect him to raise the gun, and he does, but instead of shooting him, he pistol-whips him, and Frederick’s face flies to the side.
“You’re making a mistake,” Frederick spits. “We both know that if you kill me, there’s no escape for you.”
What is he talking about?
“You thought you could take mysister?” Lance’s voice is a dangerous rumble, and I rip the rope from Juliette’s arms and drag her body into my lap just as he swings again, his fist meeting Frederick’s cheek.
