The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [164]
Face-to-face, she reaches out to touch my arm. With my gun, I backhand her away. She’s not getting any closer.
Right there, her expression flips. The soothing smile… the innocent blue eyes… they fade and disappear. I notice a deep crease along her forehead. She shakes her head, like I’ve made a mistake. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Oliver. Just remember, it’s your choice…”
Raising her gun, she points it at my chest. “Just give me the tapes,” she says coldly.
Refusing to answer, I raise my own gun and aim it at her heart.
She stares down at it, then checks my eyes. I don’t flinch. Grinning, she lets out a shrill, piercing laugh that razor-slices through me.“Please—even on your worst day, you can’t be who you’re not.”
Unmoving, I keep my finger on the trigger.
“Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?” she asks. “Or are you always going to be Oliver—forever the boy who wanted more?”
My jaw shifts off-center, but my gun doesn’t move.
“I know your feelings got hurt, but if it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t all an act,” she adds, suddenly playing nice. As she shifts her hips, everything I knew about her evaporates. The barefoot hippiechick… the daring free spirit—they’re long gone. Her shoulders no longer dangle loosely at her sides; now they’re pitched, almost barbed. I don’t know how I missed it before. But like everything else in my life, I saw what I wanted to see. “I really did have fun with you,” she says, trying to flip back to sincere mode.
“Really? Which part was more fun—lying to my face, or just betraying my trust? Actually, I keep forgetting… you’re such a down-to-earth, granola gal, you must like the simple moments—like jamming the sword in my spine.”
“Lash out all you want, Oliver. I meant what I said. You can still get out of here—but not with the tapes—and not with our money. So why don’t you join us back in reality and put the gun away. We both know who the daredevil is in your family, and just because you want to play the part, doesn’t mean it’s happening.”
Like that night on the boat, she’s hoping to push my buttons. Too bad for her, all it does is focus me more on Charlie. He’s next door, alone against DeSanctis. And the only thing stopping me from helping him is Gillian.
I pull back the hammer on my gun. “Get out of my way.”
“Why don’t we start with the tapes…”
“I said, get out of my way.”
“Not until we get—”
“My brother’s in there, Gillian. I’m not asking you again.” My gun’s aimed straight at her chest. My finger tightens around the trigger. I thought my hand would be shaking. It’s not.
“Enough with the outlaw drama, Oliver. I mean, do you honestly think you have the balls to shoot me?”
It’s a simple question. He’s my brother. “You really don’t know me at all, do you?” I ask her. Without waiting for her answer, I lower my arm, hold the gun to her knee, and pull the trigger.
The gun fires with a bright flash and a sharp hiss. But instead of screaming or falling to the ground, Gillian just stands there, a cocky sneer on her face. Confused, I look down at the gun, which is only a few inches from her knee. I pull the trigger again. The gun goes off with a violent bang—and again, Gillian’s unharmed. I don’t understand.
“Haven’t you ever heard of blanks before?” Gillian gloats. “Sounds and smells real, but when you hold it to your head, the worst you can do is singe your sideburns.”
Blanks? My eyes dissect the gun, then go back to Gillian’s sneer.
“To be honest, I’m amazed it took you this long,” she adds.
It doesn’t make any sense. All this time… The gun isn’t even ours—we got it in New York from Gallo—right after he shot—
Oh, God.
On my left, a brand-new shadow slides into the warehouse’s open garage door. When Gallo said he had help, I always assumed it was Lapidus or Quincy. But never him. I turn as he enters. Just the sight of him is like a meat-cleaver in my stomach.
“Whatsa matter?” Shep asks with his boxer’s grin. “You look like you seen a ghost.”
82
We’re all clear at Pecos Bill,” a voice with a Southern accent