'You didn't plan well enough.'
He twisted to clear his right forearm, raised the Glock to hip level, and shot Gabe in the belly. The report was deafening in the small space. Angelo loosened his grip as he jumped and screamed like a girl, giving Jack a chance for a cross-body shot into his chest. Jake jumped on him and tried to take him down. Jack switched hands, slipped the pistol between his arm and his flank, and fired. Jake tumbled off, staggered back against the wall, and left a trail of blood as he slid to the floor.
Jack whirled and found Gabe on his side, hands clutched over his abdomen, kicking his legs as he made agonized, grunting noises. He'd taken a hardball round to the gut. Looked like it had exited via his back. Same with Jake, but his bullet must have hit something vital on its trip through his chest, because his wide, unblinking eyes said he was gone. As was Angelo. The second round in Jack's magazine tended to be a hollowpoint or a pre-frag. He'd used Hydra-Shoks this time. Not much useful left inside Angelo's rib cage.
He stepped over to Gabe and kicked the knife away. The guy's attention was centered on the pain in his belly, but why take a chance?
'… hurts…' he grunted.
'So I've heard,' Jack said. 'But probably not as much as being gutted by a bowie knife.'
Another grunt that sounded like '… doctor…'
'Don't think so.'
'… please…'
Jack rolled Gabe onto his back and pressed the muzzle of the Glock against his chest.
His eyes widened. 'No!'
'You made a mistake. You thought you'd brought me into your world, but you wound up in mine. You threatened Gia and put your hands on her. You don't do that in my world. At the moment, life holds too many threats to me and mine that I can't seem to do anything about. You, I'm afraid, have the misfortune of being one that I can.'
21
Jack waded back through the crowd until he reached a point where he had a line of sight to Gia. He waited till she looked his way, then waved. Her face lit when she saw him but he motioned her to stay seated.
'Meet me downstairs by the car rental booths,' he called.
She gave him a questioning look.
'ASAP,' he said.
She nodded and began buttoning Vicky's coat. He turned and squeezed through the crowd.
Far below, he'd left the three bodies where they'd fallen. He'd closed the door to the room and locked them in. No one without a swipe card could open it. After wiping down anything he'd touched, he'd made the long, painful climb back up to the ticketing level.
His hip was on fire now as he entered the crowded men's room and found he had to wait on line for a stall. When he finally reached one, he removed the sweatshirt and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. He waited a minute, then exited, leaving the hoodie behind.
He found a spot outside on the floor where he could watch the traffic in and out of the men's room. He thought it would take at least ten minutes, but it took only five before he spotted a tall, lanky kid exit the men's room with a gray sweatshirt rolled up under his arm. Could have been his own, but his swiveling head and furtive look meant he'd probably boosted it. When Jack spotted a piece of the Nets logo, he was sure.
Wear it in good health… but wear it.
Jack headed down to the baggage level and found his ladies waiting near the Hertz booth. Vicky smiled and waved. She seemed to have recovered from the loss of her pretzel. Gia's expression was more serious.
'Are you okay?'
He nodded as he took the handle of her rolling suitcase.
'Fine.'
'What about-?'
'They're no longer interested in you.'
She bit her upper lip. 'Oh, Jack, I don't like the sound of that.'
'It's okay.'
'But what does that mean?'
'Just what it says: They won't be bothering you anymore.'
'But…' She leaned close and whispered so Vicky couldn't hear. 'Did they attack you?'
'As we both knew they would.'
'Then why did you go?'
'To get them away from you.'
'Did you… I mean, are they…? '
He looked at her. 'Do you really want to know the details?'
She held his gaze, then looked away. 'No. Not really. I have a good imagination.'
'I hope Jack kicked their fucking asses.'
Unwilling to believe Vicky had just said that, Jack turned and stared into her innocent blue eyes.
'What did you-?'
'Victoria Maria Westphalen!' Gia said, hands on hips in the classic shocked-and-angry mother pose.
It appeared to be dawning on Vicky that she'd crossed some sort of line, but she merely shrugged. 'Well, he stole my pretzel.'
'That's not the point. Have you ever heard me talk like that? Have you ever heard Jack talk like that? Where on Earth have you ever heard that kind of language?'
'On the bus. Everybody-'
'I don't care what everybody does, we do not use that kind of language, understand?'
'Okay, okay,' she said in a my-mother-is-so-not-cool tone. 'I hope he kicked their fucking heinies. Okay?'
Jack had to turn away. He could stifle-barely-the laugh that struggled to burst free, but he could not hide the grin. He shouldn't have bothered because, after a pregnant pause, Gia leaned against him and started laughing out loud. Jack joined her while Vicky looked at them like they were crazy.
When Gia finally composed herself she looked back at Vicky. 'We don't drop f-bombs either.'
'F-bombs?'
'The f-word.'
Vicky rolled her eyes. 'Okay, how about-?'
'How about we talk about something else?'
Vicky shrugged. 'Okaaaaay.'
Gia looked back at Jack. 'What are we doing out here?'
'I thought we'd go for a walk.'
'Back to the city? But-'
'No. One of the hotels. Whichever is closest.'
'I thought you said they were full up.'
'They are, so we'll camp in a lobby until morning.'
'Why?'
'The airport might not be the best place to stay. Way too crowded in there. Something might set that mob off. And if it does, you two might get hurt.' He put an arm around her and pressed her against him. 'Or worse.'
That was one reason. But Jack had another. Since no one without the right swipe card could enter that room, the bodies had a decent chance of remaining undiscovered till morning. But he couldn't count on it. Someone might stumble on them five minutes from now. Word of a triple murder could panic the crowd. But even if word never reached the crowd, the cops and TSA people would be poring over the tapes. They might see a couple of the dead guys with someone in a gray Nets hoodie. Jack had spotted a good number of gray hoodies in the Central Terminal and, though it was highly unlikely in that packed throng, the tapes might link the hoodie with the dead guys to the
