“Because you’re the grand finale,” Moloney answered.

“What did I ever do to you?”

“Your father shut down my operation for six months.”

Josie’s gaze flickered over to the other men. They all seemed bored and unaffected by his dramatics.

“He’s dead. How much more punishment could you need?”

“His punishment was the loss of your mother. Though it did look like an accident. Right, Barry?” Moloney asked.

“Very unfortunate, sir,” Barry answered.

Moloney’s face held a devious smirk that, had her hands been free, Josie would have slapped clear off. The anger and hurt expanded in her until she felt like she would burst from it.

“You killed my mother,” she whispered, dropping her head to hide her tears.

“Of course,” Moloney answered. “Your father thought he could outrun me. I found out he was talking to the feds. That is why Earl is dead. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

Tears blurred Josie’s vision but did not diminish the hateful glare she had on him. This man was the reason for everything tragic and wounding that had ever happened to her. She felt sick just being in his presence.

“Why me? Why now?”

“You know too much,” he answered. “You watched as we tortured truths from your father. You begged us to stop. You cried when we killed him. And then you escaped, making a fool of me and my men.”

“I have amnesia! I don’t remember anything before being sent to a home in California. I don’t know anything! You killed my fucking family and now you want me? Well, do it, you coward! Do it!”

Moloney laughed, his wicked cackle rising up through the building and echoing off the metal walls. Her tale of amnesia was humorous yet inventive, a smart attempt at self-preservation.

“As you wish,” Moloney said, smiling. “Barry.”

The oldest man nodded and pulled his pistol from its holster, raising it toward Josie. Her eyes searched his face for any sort of hesitation and found none. This was it for her. Resigned to her destiny, Josie took a deep breath and closed her eyes, waiting for the end to come.

“I love you, Tristan,” she whispered, her lips barely moving as she spoke her final words.

“Drop the fucking gun,” Tristan shouted.

He appeared behind Rob and Barry, his piece pointed at Moloney. He stepped forward, making his intentions clear. If Josie dies, so does Moloney.

“Right on time, Tristan,” Moloney said.

Frank reached for his gun, only to feel the press of metal to his temple.

“Don’t think so, cabrón,” Alex growled.

Josie, shocked by Alex and Tristan’s presence, sat speechless as she watched the triangle of guns before her—Tristan at Moloney, Alex at Frank, and Barry still focused on her. Her eyes darted from one to another, finally staying on Tristan. The sight of him, no matter the circumstance, was comforting. Her eyes raked over his intense face and she willed him to look at her.

“I said to drop the gun or Moloney eats this fucking bullet,” Tristan shouted at Barry, but the man did not flinch.

Fearless, Moloney spun to face Tristan, a Cheshire cat grin plastered on his face. He assessed the boy and the passion in his eyes. His plan had worked perfectly.

“Tristan, what an entrance. Still trying to play hero? Of course, I knew you would come. You’ll never make it out alive,” Moloney said.

“I don’t care, as long as she does.”

Tristan finally glanced at Josie and his heart broke. He’d avoided eye contact so that he could remain focused, but now he was a mess. The love of his life sat at the end of a cold, impassive piece of steel.

“Barry, drop your goddamned gun,” Tristan repeated.

Moloney shook his head and the standoff continued.

Rob stood motionless, watching the situation play out before him. He knew he could draw his gun and take one of them out before anyone knew what happened. The problem was, he wasn’t sure where his allegiances lay now. The tiny bit of compassion that remained inside him was fixed on Tristan. Rob imagined Monica on the end of that gun and he almost crumpled from the vision. Still, if he betrayed Moloney, he wouldn’t get any of the money. He wasn’t willing to risk that just yet.

“What do we do now? You want to trade your life for hers?” Moloney asked.

“No!” Josie shouted, somehow finding her voice.

“Be quiet, Josie,” Tristan told her, avoiding her pleading eyes.

She fought hard against the metal chair, thrashing about to keep their attention on her. She would not tolerate them taking Tristan from this world.

“No, you can’t do that! Kill me, you fucking pussy! Me! Do it, please,” she screamed, tears soaking her face.

“Josie, shut up!” Tristan shouted back at her, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“You’re not in a position to offer deals, Moloney. I’ve got the upper hand.”

“You’ve got nothing.”

Moloney grinned and whistled through his teeth. The sound shot across the building, but nothing happened. Everyone looked around and listened for approaching danger, but silence and empty space surrounded them. Confused, Moloney whistled again, his eyes searching the darkness.

“Expecting someone?” Alex asked.

Moloney turned to Barry expectantly.

“They were in place when I came in,” Barry answered.

“Like I said, upper hand,” Tristan said. “Now drop it.”

“Not anymore, Fallbrook,” Rob said softly, raising his gun to the back of Tristan’s head. “I need this money too bad for you to screw this up.”

Although Rob did not possess the ability to end Josie’s life, Tristan’s would not be an issue. He had no feelings for the boy and frankly believed he’d be saving Fallbrook from a torturous death at the hands of Moloney.

“Rob?” Monica’s voice shouted as she emerged from between two stacks of boxes. “Why? I don’t … What are you doing here?”

“Rob?” Tristan and Josie said in unison, turning their attention to the blond man now holding all the cards.

Monica had obeyed Tristan’s command to stay in the car for almost a full five minutes. She’d worked her way down the block, checking each building before finding the right one. From her hiding place, Monica had been listening to the men’s conversation, waiting for an opportunity to make her move. Sure, she was unarmed, but she had the element of surprise.

Unable to see everything, the sound of Rob’s voice had shaken her and she didn’t even think before emerging to investigate. Her mind reeled with the scene before her, and she fought to understand her lover’s place among these men.

“Monica? What are you doing here?” Rob screeched.

“Do we have a problem, Mort?” Moloney asked.

“You’re Mort? The Mort who’s been hunting Josie?” Tristan asked.

“No! It’s not true!” Monica screamed. Her hands flew to her head, pulling at her hair as her eyes scanned his impassive face. “Rob, tell them it’s not true!”

“Get out of here, this has nothing to do with you,” Rob said firmly, his trembling gun still pointed at Tristan. “Fallbrook, drop the gun. You too, big man,” he demanded, nodding toward Alex.

“Damn!” Alex sneered.

Monica watched in disbelief as Alex relented first. He surrendered, not wanting to be responsible for the death of Tristan, especially in front of Josie. He knew she would never survive that kind of heartbreak even if she did escape this mess. Tristan dropped his gun, the clanking sound of it hitting the concrete floor marking the extinction of hope.

“Now that that is all squared away,” Moloney said, rubbing his hands together in victory, “you three, join the girl.”

Alex and Monica took their places next to Josie. Tristan rushed to her, running his hands over her hair and whispering apologies.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Josie said.

“Enough!” Moloney shouted. “I’ll do it myself.”

He pulled his 9mm from his waistband and pointed it directly at Josie. A shot rang out, a deafening break in the otherwise silent building. Barry dove for cover, disappearing from view. Josie squeezed her eyes tight and prepared for the hurt, but it never came.