Death of a Pirate King - lanyon Josh. Страница 51

“I thought so. I didn’t plan it, though,” he admitted. “It just happened. I thought you might drink it, actually. It stood beside your own glass for what felt like an eternity.” He smiled. “But you were quite careful not to touch it, and I really couldn’t afford to let Porter go on bitching about his lost masterpiece.”

A funny little chill went down my spine as I realized how close I’d been to dying that afternoon. It could have all ended right there -- and Jake would have shown up and found me as his homicide case.

And Kane would have got away with it.

I said, “So you raced over to Al’s, bashed him over the head --”

“Not hard enough apparently, but even if Al makes it, after traumatic head injuries the victim often doesn’t remember the hours previous -- he might lose the whole day.”

“Well, we can only hope!” I said, unable to stop myself from copying his cheerful tone. His smile was odd.

“Any other questions? You’re probably dying to know where I came up with the digitoxin, aren’t you?”

“Nina left an old bottle around after the last party she catered for you?”

He looked pained. “Of course not. What a strange idea. No. A former lover left them. As a matter of fact, I hung onto those pills for nearly three years. I had a feeling they would come in useful at some point.” And the look in his eyes sent another of those slithers down my spine. “Any other questions?” he asked gently.

“Just wondering where we go from here.”

He drawled, “You mean you’ve no notion at all? Not a one? You’re not wearing a wire under that sweater of yours? You’re not carrying your grandmother’s Webley tucked in the back band of your jeans?”

I didn’t move a muscle.

High above us a gull swooped low, squawking. I thought that I would never forget the bright heat of the sun and the smell of salt in the air: the sound and the taste of betrayal.

Kane laughed. “Of course you are. Well, that narrows our options a bit. If you were willing to play…but you’re not. You’re bound and determined to see me brought to justice, aren’t you? Regardless of the cost to…anyone. Yourself included.”

I don’t think I could have moved if my life had depended on it -- and it probably did.

“So let me tell you what I have planned for you. I’m going to settle one final curiosity, the curiosity of what the attraction is between men like myself and Jake. You’ve always wondered about that, haven’t you?”

He raised his brows at my lack of response.

“Of course you are. Anyone would be. It’s another mystery, and you love mysteries. You’ve wondered about this secret world, the world of exquisite pain shared between men who trust each other -- trust each other beyond what any outsider can possibly understand. Men who share…everything.”

“Including consecutive prison terms,” I managed.

He smiled and, oddly enough, that suave smile reminded me of the illustration of Foxy Loxy in my childhood copy of Chicken Little -- and why the hell that thought was in my mind, beat me. I was probably in shock.

“Don’t be so bloody ungrateful, Adrien. I’m offering to initiate you into such pleasures of the flesh as you can’t possibly imagine. There’s a room below deck.” He glanced down at the teak deck beneath our feet. “A very special room for very special guests. We’re going to spend hours down there, you and I, and I’ll show you everything -- teach you everything -- or as much as your heart can stand.”

“I’ll pass,” I said. It seemed like an unfortunate turn of phrase, once the words were out.

“You won’t want to pass. Not when you learn who’s waiting below deck for us.”

I swallowed. “How many guesses do I get?” I asked. I was amazed at how calm I sounded. I didn’t feel calm. I felt dead. I probably was dead -- even if I got off this boat alive. Something had died inside me the instant I realized Jake had told Paul Kane what I planned.

I thought of that painstaking letter I had written to my lawyer -- doing my very best to keep Jake out of it as much as possible. That was actually kind of funny.

“Well, it was going to be a surprise,” Paul said regretfully, “but I can see you’re going to need a little persuasion.”

He rose in a graceful, lithe movement and rang the brass ship’s bell hanging behind us. There was motion above. I looked up. The captain appeared on the bridge above us. Paul waved him the all clear and he ducked away again.

I wondered idly how much Paul Kane paid him; how desperately did he want to keep his job?

There were footsteps behind us; the deck boards vibrated. I turned and watched Jake step onto the deck.

“I’m afraid the joke’s on you,” Paul said, watching my face. “Jake rang me last night after you called him with your wild scheme to entrap me. You do have a taste for the dramatic, Adrien. I give you credit.”

I made myself look at Jake. His face was…harrowed. He glanced at me briefly, looked away. All his focus was on Paul Kane.

“I do have to say though, that although this kind of thing works in books or on the small screen, I’d never in reality have confided a single word to you if Jake and I hadn’t worked it all out ahead of time. As it was, I admit, I did enjoy playing out this little scene. You were being so clever. It was sheer delight to watch you in action.”

I said, “My scheme is unrealistic? You honest to God think you’re going to sail into port with yet another victim of a fatal accide --”

“Shut up, Adrien,” Jake said flatly.

“Fuck. You,” I said.

A muscle moved in his cheek.

“You’re missing the point,” Paul informed me. “We’re going to fuck you. We’re going to take turns over and over and over again. I think with a bit of cooperation from you we’ll be able to present the authorities with a perfectly legitimate case of heart failure. It’s going to be rather a scandal, but I like scandal.” He winked at Jake. “And I have a friend on the force who’ll help me navigate the legal waters, as it were.”

My heart was pounding so hard I wasn’t sure I could get the words out. I said, “If that’s your plan, then you’re a total lunatic. Did you ever hear of DNA? Did you ever hear of --” I broke off as Jake pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I stood up, rocking against the battened-down table. “Jake,” I said, and to my horror my voice shook. Not with fear -- with grief, with disbelief. I was beyond anger. I think I felt something close to horror for what he had come to.

He never looked at me. He said in a dead, mechanical voice, “Paul Kane, you’re under arrest for kidnapping, attempted rape, attempted murder --”

Paul laughed.

And something seemed to snap inside Jake. He said, “For Christ’s sake, Paul! Did you honest to God think I would be okay with murder? I’m a cop. I’ve spent my entire adult life upholding and enforcing the law.”

Into the silence that followed those anguished words, another gull swooped down, jeering.

“You’re not…serious.” Paul looked stricken. “James…”

“I didn’t want to believe it,” Jake said. “I couldn’t believe it. But it’s true. Every goddamn thing he accused you of is true.”

“My darling --” Paul reached out a shaking hand. It was stagy and melodramatic -- and yet I thought it was absolutely genuine. He had been struck to the heart. Or whatever he used for that organ.

Jake grabbed him, turned him, preparing to snap the cuffs on. “Don’t say anything else, Paul. Wait for your lawyer.”

Paul ducked away, sliding out from under Jake’s hand. He turned and he was holding something small and metallic, glinting wickedly in the moody sunshine. A gun. Like a toy. A derringer.

He pointed it straight at me and fired.

And at the same moment Jake stepped in front of me. I felt him rock back as the bullet hit him, a tiny metal projectile burrowing into warm living flesh, heard the shot -- like a clap of doom -- and something kicked me hard in the left shoulder. My left arm went heavy and numb.