Safe Harbor

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sully and Jason ran out the door and down two blocks to stand across the street from another motel. On a quiet side street, the old nineteen-sixties vintage motor court had twenty rooms. Four cars sat in the lot, two with Florida plates, one from Michigan, and one from Virginia.

The men sat on a bus stop bench down the block and looked around like they were waiting for the next one.

“See anything?” Sully asked.

“Nope,” Jason said. “We sure this is him?”

“Pretty sure. We need to know which car.” They watched and waited. Fortunately, no bus came by. As dusk descended, they spotted lights on in four of the rooms, pinpointing where the occupants were in relation to their cars.

“How you want to handle this?” Jason asked. They’d moved to another bench, not visible from the motel, but they could still watch.

“I’m working on it.” They stood to walk toward their motel when a car bearing a lit pizza parlor sign on top pulled in to the motel. The driver went directly to the last room and knocked. They watched as a large man carefully opened the door and stepped out, not allowing the delivery guy to see inside the room.

Sully’s heart pounded, but he forced himself to keep his feet steady as he continued walking. “That’s him. That’s the son of a bitch.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. He’s shaved his head, but that’s him.”

“Let me call in a SWAT team—”

“No, fuck that. He’ll kill her, won’t give a shit then. She won’t have a chance.”

“Then what?”

Sully gritted his teeth. “I’ve got an idea.”

Once out of sight, they raced to their motel and climbed into Jason’s car. The small independent pizza parlor that delivered the pie to Bryan lay three blocks away in the other direction. A different delivery man stood outside smoking a cigarette.

Sully left Jason in the car and walked up to the guy, spoke with him for a moment. Sully reached into his wallet and passed him a few bills. The guy nervously looked around, then took the money before he disappeared inside. He returned a moment later and handed Sully a set of keys, a pizza box, and a shirt.

Sully jumped into another delivery car. Jason followed him back to their motel, where Sully wasted no time returning to their room.

“What the fuck?” Jason demanded.

Sully grinned, devoid of mirth. “I told the kid I wanted to play a practical joke on a friend to get back at the guy. Hey, shit happens.

Accidental double order.” He stripped off his shirt, donned the bulletproof vest, then pulled the pizza shirt on over it. He’d brought in a windbreaker from the car. It bore the pizza shop’s logo. When he pulled it on and zipped it, it hid most of the bulk.

“Go to the motel, check around the back, make sure there’s no rear entrance and that the bathroom window’s too small for a guy to get out.”

Jason raced to do it, returning a few minutes later. “Check. I couldn’t see through the window, it was frosted, but I heard a guy ranting and swearing.”

Sully’s gut clenched. “Could you tell if she’s there?”

“No, sorry.”

“Fuck.” He loaded the 9mm, chambered a round, and checked the safety. He looked at Jason. “When I get there, I’ll go in. You leave your car around back, keys on the floor, and drive the other car back to the pizza joint. Park it around back, leave the keys in it, and meet me at our motel. Have everything packed and be ready to leave.”

“When do we call in reinforcements?”

Sully glared at Jason.

“Oh, fuck, man. No, come on. Neutralize him, get the hell out with her, and then we call for backup.”

Sully shook his head. “You with me or against me?”

“Fuck!” Jason ran a hand through his hair as he paced the room.

“It’s fucking murder! I can’t go along with that!”

“What do you call what he did to Mac? He tried to kill him. You saw what he did to Clarisse. You also know he probably had a hand in her parents’ deaths. His car gets stolen the night they’re killed in a hit-and-run? Come on, you can’t tell me that’s not hokey.”

Sully refused to cry despite the overwhelming emotion threatening to take him under. “It’s personal, Jayce. We don’t know for sure Mac’s gonna make it. He might not be able to live a normal life after this. You tell me what the fuck you’d do if it was your wife or daughter lying in that hospital bed!”

Jason stared at the wall for a long moment. “I don’t want to know what happens in there,” he quietly said.

“You grab the pizza guy’s car and leave. If it makes you feel better, you come back here and drive my car to Harborside and wait for me there. It’ll be there on surveillance video, give me an alibi. In fact, that’s for the best. Go sit with Mac for me.”

“My choices are to be a fucking pussy coward asshole or an accomplice to murder. Not very good.”

“You’re not a coward. You helped me find her. I can do the rest.

Your hands are clean, and I’ll still respect you in the fucking morning.” His face hardened. “I’m not letting this asshole get away with this. I won’t let him take the people I love away from me.

Besides,” he said with a smile, “a body means less fucking paperwork and no goddamn trial or IA investigation to sit through.”

That finally pulled a smile and laugh from Jason. “Jesus, Sul!” He shook his head. “All right. You call me within twenty minutes after you go through the door, or I’m placing an anonymous call to 911 that there’s a violent domestic disturbance in progress. Deal?”

“Deal. Let’s go.”

Sully kept the gun on the seat under the pizza. The pie had gone cold, but Sully didn’t care. It was only for show.

The kid at the parlor had looked up Bryan’s order. Bryan had used the name Smith.

Of course.

Paid cash.

Sully parked at the end of the building where Jason could easily get the car. Before he stepped out, he pulled a baseball cap also bearing the pizza parlor’s logo down over his head and slumped his shoulders. He pulled on a pair of gloves and balanced the pizza on top of the gun, which he held flat against the bottom of the box.

When he knocked, he heard an angry male voice swear. “Who’s there?”

Sully put on a fake Bronx accent. “Antonio’s Pizza. Got an order for Mr. Smith.”

“What the fuck?”

Sully heard the door unlock, and then Bryan opened it a little.

Sully couldn’t see past him into the room, but he saw all he needed.

The fingers of Bryan’s right hand were curled around the edge of the door, and the fingers of his left were pressed against the doorjamb.

No gun in his hands.

“I already got my pizza.”

Sully jammed the gun against Bryan’s chest. He pushed him inside the room and kicked the door shut behind him. “Special toppings, this time, asshole.” He didn’t dare take his attention off Bryan to look at Clarisse as he let the box drop to the floor. Outside, he heard the car start and pull out.

The clock was ticking.

Bryan drew away from Sully. Sully was prepared and kicked out, knocking the larger man off balance. Bryan fell backward and started scrabbling toward the bed, where Sully saw the gun lying on the bedspread.

Fully aware Bryan couldn’t look like he was beaten to a bloody pulp for his plan to work, Sully hauled off and kicked him between the legs, nailing him in the balls. He didn’t get him as hard as he wanted. Bryan flipped over and kicked out, catching him in his bad leg.

Clarisse watched in shock as Sully and Bryan battled near the door. She couldn’t walk, but she could hop. She leaned forward and caught the far side of the bed for balance. Stretching, she couldn’t reach the gun. She let out a muffled cry as Sully went down and Bryan grabbed for Sully’s gun. She yanked on the bedspread, her maneuverability severely hampered by the handcuffs, and started pulling the bedspread toward her.

The gun inched closer to her hands as Sully and Bryan battled on the floor on the other side. She finally got it, fumbled it, then managed to find and release the safety.

Hobbled and trying to maintain her balance, she edged around the bed. She couldn’t even scream at Sully to get out of the way, and she was not a good enough shot, especially with adrenaline coursing through her, to not hit him.

Then Bryan managed to roll over on top of Sully and, sitting up, drew back to punch him.

She fired.

The gun kicked back and flew from her hands. She watched in horror as Bryan looked at her, then slumped to the side as Sully pushed him off.

Sully scrambled to his feet and managed to catch Clarisse before she fell. He eased her and the chair back into position, then gently pulled the tape from her mouth.

“Are you okay, baby?”

She couldn’t speak, the adrenaline crash hitting her hard and fast, sending her spiraling toward shock.

He ripped the tape off her legs and pulled her to him. They wouldn’t have much time. He rained kisses on her face as he tightly clutched her to him. “It’s okay, baby. It’s over. He’s dead.”

“Check him,” she whispered. “Now. Check him.”

He left her on the bed and limped over to Bryan. Her shot had hit him in the chest, near his heart. Not dead yet, but the wound was sucking. He should bleed out pretty soon.

“Not yet.”

“Kill him,” she managed. “Kill the fucker.”

They didn’t have time for this. His plan had been to stage it to marginally look like a suicide. Considering what Bryan had done, crime scene techs would have overlooked any inconsistencies with Jason smoothing the way.

This, however, wasn’t good.

“We can’t. We need to get out of here.”

She vigorously shook her head. “Kill him, or I will.”

“Just a minute.” He ripped the duct tape remnants from the chair and returned it to its place at the table. He checked Bryan—still breathing.

He found Clarisse’s phone on the dresser, scooped it into his pocket along with the change. Then he rummaged through Bryan’s pockets until he found the handcuff key. He freed her and rubbed her wrists. “Baby, are you okay?”

She couldn’t take her eyes off Bryan’s still body. “Is he dead?”

He cradled her face in his hands and forced her to look at him.

“Pet, listen to me. Focus on me.” He felt her trembling, and her color didn’t look good. “Did he hurt you?” Some bruising already shadowed her left cheekbone, but not bad.

“No. He just slapped me around. Fucking pussy coward asshole!”

she angrily shot over Sully’s shoulder at Bryan.

Despite the situation, Sully had to bite back a laugh. If all he’d done was slap her, then he’d only pissed her off, not hurt her. “We have to go. Now.”

“I want him dead!”

Sully checked Bryan again. He stripped off his right glove and touched his fingers to the man’s carotid artery. His pulse felt weak, thready, his breathing shallow. He wouldn’t last long. Sully didn’t see where the bullet had struck the wall or door. It must not have passed through him.

He pulled the glove back on and found Bryan’s gun, wiped it clean on the bedspread and then put it in Bryan’s hand to get the prints on it before placing it on the floor near him. He retrieved his gun and both pizza boxes, the duct tape remnants, handcuffs, and quickly wiped her prints off the chair and in the bathroom. As a final thought, he found Bryan’s wallet and took his laptop, along with the fake hospital ID he found laying on the table. It could look like a robbery. He then stood in front of Clarisse.

“Pet, we are leaving.”

She defiantly looked at him. “Is he dead?”

“He’s dying.” He held out his free hand. “Come, pet.”

She shook her head like a stubborn child and crossed her arms over her chest. “Not until he’s dead.”

Sully silently swore. He didn’t have time for this! “Now, pet. We have to get back to Sir and check on him.”

At the mention of Mac she started crying. He scooped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. “It’s okay, pet. He’s going to make it. We have to go in case anyone called the police. Pet, you must obey me.”

She finally nodded and allowed him to guide her from the bed. He gave wide berth to Bryan’s body. At the doorway, she stared back at him and shuddered. Sully started to open the door when Bryan let out a rattling gasp. Clarisse stifled a cry.

Sully knelt over him again. No pulse.

“Okay, he’s gone. And so are we.” He pulled her close and despite his heavy limp from where Bryan kicked him, he quickly led her from the room and around the back of the building to Jason’s car.

Inside, he stripped off his gloves, jacket, and hat. The kid could easily replace the jacket and hat with the grand he’d given him for the information, use of the car, and to “lose” Bryan’s original ticket. Sully would wait to throw all the stuff away in different places on the way to the hospital, but not this close to the scene. He buckled Clarisse’s seat belt around her and drove away from the motel. He drove north on Alt. 19 for several blocks before turning east and heading for U.S.

19. He pulled into a shopping center and called Jason with barely minutes to spare.

“Well?”

“Done. All clear. She’s safe.”

Jason breathed out a sigh of relief. “I’m on the way to the hospital.

I’ll see you there. I cleared out the room already, so head straight back. I’ve got all the stuff in your trunk. Don’t risk going back.” He paused. “And ditch that gun, it’s not traceable.”

Sully closed his eyes. “Thank you, but I didn’t use it.”

“No problem.” He hesitated. “What’s the story going to read?”

“That’s for the papers to decide. Random robbery, most likely.

Housekeeping will find him in a day or two.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Sully hung up, and that’s when his own shakes hit. He shut off the car, pulled Clarisse to him, and allowed himself to cry into her hair as she desperately sobbed against him. A half-hour later they composed themselves after her trembling stopped.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I killed him,” she whispered.

He nodded. “You did good. You saved me.”

Her eyes widened as she looked into his eyes. “I killed him. I killed someone!”

He cradled her chin in his hands again and gently pressed a kiss to her mouth until she started responding. “Self-defense. We didn’t leave evidence they can tie to you for this.” He hoped. He sniffed gunpowder on her clothes. “We need to get you to our room and I have to throw those clothes away. You have to have a shower.”

“Do we call the cops?”

He shook his head. “No.” He took a deep breath, played dirty, told her what Jason had uncovered about her parents’ deaths. “Pet, this is an order. You are to not feel guilty about this. It was self-defense.”

She finally nodded and collapsed against him again, sobbing.

He took his time driving to St. Pete, threw out the various things in different locations. At their hotel, he helped her strip and held her as they both sat in the shower. She sobbed against him while the water washed the smell of gunpowder off her. After she regained her composure he helped her stand and thoroughly scrubbed every inch of her flesh and his, hoping to remove any residue. Incidental residue could be explained away by their regular target practices, but lots of fresh residue couldn’t.

It was nearly eleven when they returned to the ICU. Sully nodded at the armed deputy standing guard. He’d forced a little soup into Clarisse, and her shocky tremors had stopped. Jason looked up from where he sat reading a book at Mac’s bedside.

Without a word, she walked over to Jason when he stood. She hugged him, then whispered, “Thank you.”

He let out a deep sigh. “I’m glad you’re safe, kiddo.”

They stayed for another hour before Sully coaxed her back to their hotel where they crashed, tightly clinging to each other in bed and sleeping until well past dawn.