Something About You
Page 83

With all the action, Jack had lost count of how many times Lombard had fired at him. He popped out the clip of the gun to see if it was still loaded. Three rounds left—more than enough. He slammed the clip back in.
He and Lombard had some unfinished business to discuss.
“Go upstairs to your bedroom, Cameron. Don’t come out until I tell you,” Jack said.
She nodded. “Right. I’ll call for backup and an ambulance.”
“Don’t call anyone. Just go upstairs.”
Her eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”
“You don’t need to know. You’re an assistant U.S. attorney—you can’t be a part of this.”
Lombard’s eyes widened nervously.
Cameron hesitated on the landing, and for a moment Jack thought she wasn’t going to listen to him. “Okay,” she finally said. She left, and a few seconds later Jack heard the door to her bedroom shut.
He turned his attention to Lombard, who was sweating profusely as he lay on the floor at his feet.
“When we were upstairs, you talked about the person who told you about Cameron’s involvement in the Robards case. I want to know who it was.”
Lombard coughed, wheezing in pain. “Fuck you, Pallas.”
“You might want to save that for later. I haven’t even gotten started yet.”
“Fuck you anyway.”
Jack squatted down at Lombard’s side. “You’ve been listening to Cameron and me this whole time,” he said quietly.
Lombard tried to laugh, but it came out sounding hollow. “Almost every word. Loved the part where you wouldn’t f**k her after I shot her. You’re as weak as the rest, Pallas. All because of a woman.”
Maybe Lombard saw him as weak because of Cameron, Jack thought.
But tonight she was his greatest strength.
“Since you’ve been listening, you know what she means to me. I would kill anyone who harmed her,” he said with cold simplicity. “Give me a name, and I’ll make an exception.”
Lombard didn’t say anything. But he didn’t look so smug anymore, either.
Jack brought the gun in closer. “You shot her. I watched as you took this very gun and held it under her chin. Like this.” He grabbed Lombard’s jaw and shoved the gun right under his chin. Lombard flinched, breathing heavily through his nose.
Jack pushed the barrel harder, digging into Lombard’s skin. “Give me an excuse to pull this trigger. I want to do it so badly I can taste it.”
“I want a deal,” Lombard blurted out through clenched teeth.
Jack nodded. “I believe you actually mean that this time.” He pressed the gun to Lombard’s forehead. “Here’s the deal: tell me what I want to know, and I won’t have to tell the medical examiner that I shot you between the eyes in self-defense.”
Lombard swallowed hard. He said nothing at first, but Jack saw it in his eyes.
Defeat.
Lombard sagged against the floor and finally gave Jack the answer he’d been waiting for.
“Silas Briggs.”
LESS THAN TEN minutes after Jack called for backup, the house was teaming with people—some in uniforms, some not. He told the paramedics what had happened to Lombard, then spoke briefly to both Wilkins and the cops.
Jack stood side-by-side with Wilkins, watching as the paramedics placed a neck brace onto a handcuffed Lombard and slid a backboard underneath him. He glanced up at Cameron. She’d been sitting on the steps of the landing ever since the cops and FBI had arrived. He sensed she hadn’t wanted to get too close to Lombard as he lay on the floor at the bottom of the staircase. He hoped she wasn’t trying to avoid him as well.
“I’d like a minute alone with Cameron,” Jack said to Wilkins. “Could you see to that?”
Wilkins nodded. “Of course. I’ll make sure everyone stays down here.”
Jack grabbed a blanket the paramedics had brought in, slipped past Lombard on the stairs, and headed up. He knelt down and wrapped the blanket around Cameron’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Jack noticed she was trembling. He helped her to a standing position, then led her up the stairs and into her bedroom. He closed the door behind them, took her by the hand, and sat her down on the bed.
“Say something, Cameron. Anything.”
She sounded distant when she answered. “When he called down from upstairs, I was standing right here by this bed.” She frowned. “I was trying to decide what underwear I was going to wear to bed that night, wondering if you liked black or red better.” Her voice cracked. “Then this strange voice shouted down that he had a gun pointed at your head and that you had three seconds to live.”
Jack knelt at the floor in front of her. “You did so great. Cutting off the power was the smartest thing anyone could’ve done in that situation.”
She wiped her eyes. “Right, I’m such a hero. You dove off a thirty-five-foot staircase. I turned off a light switch.”
“It . . . was a very key light switch.”
She sniffed. Her nose was red and her mascara was smudged underneath her eyes. Jack thought he had never seen anyone look so beautiful. When he thought about what could’ve happened . . . how close he’d come to losing her . . .
“You’re doing the serious face again.” Cameron touched his cheek, looking him over with concern. “Are you hurt? You have to be, after that fall.”