He didn’t look up at Taylor’s approach, but he said, “That could have gone better.”
He sounded calm. Even a little wry.
Taylor’s heart stopped skipping in dread. He holstered his weapon. “Why didn’t you tell me what was really going on?”
Ashe laughed. “Really? How do you think that conversation would have gone? Hey, long time no see. If I don’t want to wind up like my boyfriend, I’m going to have to arrange for you and your boyfriend to have a little accident.”
Taylor sat down across from him. “But you know what I do for a living. You must have realized I had the contacts and resources to help you.”
Ashe gaped at him. “You can’t— Taylor, wake up. You’re so goddamned… I don’t know. Impervious.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Oh, I know. You really just don’t get it. You can’t touch people like Bashnakov. You don’t bring people like that to trial. You don’t put people like that in jail.”
“What do you think this is about, if not that?”
Ashe looked at him without comprehension, firelight flickering in his eyes.
“Hell, yes, you put them in jail,” Taylor said. “No one is above the law.”
“You and the Boy Scout.” Ashe’s voice wobbled. “You think you’re living in a movie where the good guys rush in at the last minute and save the day. You think you’re the good guys.”
“We’re sure as hell not the bad guys. We’re the guys who are going to help put Bashnakov away. And if you want to make sure Bashnakov stays in jail, give yourself up and cooperate—”
Ashe jumped up, walking agitatedly up and down along the pool. He waved the pistol in Taylor’s direction. Maybe more in illustration than threat, but Taylor tensed, pulse quickening. Guns had a way of going off.
“This is why I didn’t tell you. Because that’s your idea of a solution. Cooperate with the feds! Are you kidding me?”
“Okay,” Taylor said quickly, reassuringly. “Fair enough. I can’t be right all the time.”
“No, you sure as shit can’t. But you think you can. You always did.”
“I promise you, I really don’t. Ashe, come on. Sit down and let’s talk.”
Ashe laughed unsteadily.
“I’m on your side.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Ashe muttered. He stared down at the pistol in his hand.
Taylor continued to try and coax him to sit again. “Why don’t you give me your side. Tell me what happened tonight?”
Ashe glared. “Well, what happened tonight is you didn’t tell me you were going to meet Mike, even though I specifically told you not to. So I didn’t know until it was too late. If the asshole had just stuck to the plan, everything would have been okay. He’d have gotten his share of the money from the sale of the house, and nobody would have put two and two together.”
“Because you were known enemies.”
“Exactly! But no. He had to try and back out.”
Taylor kept hoping he was going to hear some extenuating circumstances, but with every word, Ashe was confirming the worst-case scenario: a cold-blooded murder plot.
“And that was just greed. He wanted more money.” Ashe added, “And gutlessness. He was also gutless. He was afraid there would be some big investigation if two ex-feds got killed.”
Right. Because Will would have to go too. It was a two-for-one deal. The thought of Will dying because of…because of what? Why? Because this selfish little shit thought everyone else was expendable? Jesus. He had been sorry for Ashe, guilty about Ashe, but now he was close to hating Ashe.
Still, he kept his voice even, unemotional. “He was probably right.”
“Yeah, well…” Ashe abruptly pointed the pistol at Taylor. “That doesn’t mean you get off scot-free. This is partly your fault.”
Taylor sat up straighter. He said with the calm of long experience—granted not this particular experience, “You can make the argument you killed Zamarion in self-defense. If you shoot me, it’s murder one, and Bashnakov will be the least of your worries.”
“Maybe it’s worth it.” Ashe’s voice wavered. “Maybe—”
“Maybe I’ll blow your head off if you don’t put the gun down,” Will said.
Will stood in the shadows on the other side of the pool near the stone staircase. Pretty much invisible, though Taylor knew him well enough to discern his outline among the silhouettes of rock and plants.
Ashe threw a frantic look over his shoulder but did not lower the pistol. “You can’t stop me. I’ll—”
No. Goddamn it. No, Will.
“Will, stand down,” Taylor called.
Will ignored him. “Lower your weapon, Ashe. I won’t ask nicely again.”
For such a reasonable guy, Will could be so goddamned intractable sometimes.
Ashe turned tearful eyes toward Taylor. “You couldn’t even come alone. Even now, even after everything, you couldn’t even give me that.”
Taylor said desperately, “Ashe, I’ll sit here with you as long as you want. Just you and me. Will’s going back to the car. Aren’t you, Will?”
“Not a chance in hell,” Will said.
Ashe sucked in a sharp breath. His hand wobbled, the pistol glinting in the firelight.
“Ashe, listen to me,” Taylor was speaking quickly, urgently. “There are things you want to say, and I want to hear them. Let’s talk. There’s no hurry here. No one’s coming. It’s just us.”
Jesus, he sounded like someone on a terrible TV cop show. You don’t want to do this! But Ashe didn’t want to do it. And if Will would just back off and give them space, let Taylor handle this…
“Sure,” Ashe said bitterly. “Just us. You and me and him. The time for talking was ten years ago, so don’t pretend you give a shit now. You walked away and never looked back. The only reason you care now is him. You’re worried about him.”
“No, I’m—”
Ashe swung the Ruger in Will’s direction, and Taylor launched himself forward. Ashe caught the movement, swung the pistol back toward Taylor, and Taylor heard the loud
