Private Monaco

Chapter 90

“Secretary Carver is still alive,” Roman said. “Which means your wife’s life is forfeit.”

“Don’t,” Stamp replied through gritted teeth.

I trained my pistol on Verde.

Angie couldn’t talk, but her eyes told me everything. She was terrified, not just for herself but for her husband. Tears were visible when she looked at him.

“We’re not here to have a movie standoff,” Roman Verde said. He turned his gun on me and pulled the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot seemed too loud for the room. It cracked like thunder clouds colliding. My left shoulder immediately felt like it had caught on fire, and the flames instantly turned to agony as the bullet drilled straight through me.

It felt as though I’d been hit by a truck. I couldn’t stop myself from tumbling back. As I crashed to the floor, I dropped my pistol and it clattered away, skidding toward one of the grand couches. I was suddenly painfully hot and broke into an instant sweat that cooled me far too fast, so that I swung between blazing heat and searing cold. The world swam, warping and bending into the most bizarre shapes.

Time must have slowed for me, because all of this happened the instant before Verde arced his gun around and shot Stamp in the right thigh. The former Marine and FBI agent crumpled instantly as the leg gave way beneath him. He cried out and dropped his gun so he could clutch at the wound.

“That’s better,” Verde said, his voice rising above the ringing in my ears, cutting through the pain that tormented me. “You people just don’t get it. You wasted three lives today when you could have traded them for one. I’m going to kill you all. And then I’m going to kill your friends and loved ones. And when I’m done, I will make a new plan to deal with Eli Carver. You changed nothing except the date of his death and yours.”

He took his hand away from Angie Stamp’s mouth and she cried out, “Ken!”

I grimaced. I had to have answers and I wanted to play for time. “I know why you chose me. Revenge for your brother, but these two...” I indicated Kendrick and Angie Stamp.

“These two,” Verde interrupted, “because he ruined a business deal and got me arrested. People who cross me pay the price.”

“I don’t even know you,” Stamp protested, his voice strained from the pain he was in.

“That was your mistake,” Verde said.

“What about Duval?” I asked.

“He failed us,” Verde replied. “We don’t tolerate failure. And knowing your reputation, I suspected you would tie him to us eventually. We are not a sentimental group, Mr. Morgan. Loyalty must be earned every single day.”

It was the justification of a psychopath trying to excuse acting on their every whim.

“And why Carver?” I asked, casting my eyes around for a way out of this situation.

Verde sneered. I grew aware of faint sounds, which grew louder with each passing second.

Sirens.

Verde had clearly heard them too because he said, “We’d better get this over with before the police arrive. Which of you wants to see the other die?” he asked, addressing Angie and Kendrick Stamp. “Jack Morgan can watch you both, the last to taste a bullet, because I know how much he loves being a hero.”

“Don’t,” Stamp managed to say, grimacing with pain.

I was in agony, but no amount of suffering could suppress the anger I felt toward this pitiless killer. I couldn’t let us die here at his hands.

I steeled myself.

“If you can’t make a choice, I’ll choose for you,” Verde said, and turned his gun on Angie. “You will watch your wife die.”

“No,” Stamp yelled as his wife broke into sobs.

Verde smiled and I saw his grip tighten on the gun. I rolled across the floor, ignored the explosion of pain that came with the movement, and grabbed my pistol. He reacted instinctively, pointing his gun toward me and opening fire, but his aim was off. I rolled onto my belly and shot him in the hip.

He staggered back, relinquishing his hold on Angie, and she ran clear, giving me an open target. Verde brought his gun up and round, but he wasn’t fast enough. I already had him in my sights and pulled the trigger twice. A brace of bullets hit him in the chest. He fell back against a marble-and-gilt gueridon table before rolling onto the floor, where he lay moaning and gasping.