Hey, another update is here, apologies for taking longer than usual. I hope you'll enjoy it.
The moment Steve decided he'd go back and look for Roederer in the marina, the sound of sirens started pulsing over the rooftops.
With the sirens descending, his first instinct was to get away from that alley. But soon after, he found a quiet spot where he used his t-shirt to do his best to wipe the blood away from his face, and to compose himself.
Wasting no more time, he headed back to the marina, avoiding the congested area where the superyachts were located. According to the information Catherine had managed to obtain from the rental company, he was looking for a much more modest affair, and there was only a small number to choose from as he walked along the jetty.
Soon his destination was clear. There was only one boat matching the description moored within sight. A gleaming yacht - big, but not so big it wouldn't have fitted into the marina.
Steve was about halfway between land and the yacht when he saw movement in the darkness. A single figure.
He picked up the pace.
And there he was. The man Steve had been looking for. Leaning his elbows on the side of the yacht like everything was right in the world. Facing the jetty and watching Steve approach with a somewhat amused grin lining his face. Oblivious to his smart and no doubt expensive clothes being soaked by rain.
"About time. I was starting to think you wouldn't show up," he said as Steve scrambled on board. "But of course, I was expecting you to come eventually. I've got something you want, after all."
Steve didn't reply. He had a weird feeling he was missing something important here, but maybe it was just his concussed brain not cooperating anymore.
"You don't look so good, Steve," Roereder mocked. "I take it you met my boys."
Steve ignored the taunts. Quickly scanning the boat, he assessed the situation. No weapon in sight. No other men, at least where he could see. No girl either. But Catherine wouldn't lie about that. The kid had to be somewhere in here and Steve wouldn't let Roederer harm her on anyone else anymore.
"Where's the girl?" he asked.
Roederer held Steve's gaze without blinking and ignored the question. "I must say I was rather disappointed," he said instead. "An old lady and two young cops to protect her? Not nearly as challenging as getting to that African kid of yours. But maybe that was the point, right? To confuse me? Well, it didn't work."
Maybe the hits to the head had been stronger than he thought, because he still didn't understand. But it didn't matter now.
"Let her go," he demanded.
"And why would I do that?"
"This is between you and me." Steve inched closer, slowly moving his hand to the weapon tucked behind his belt. "She has nothing to do with this."
Roederer huffed a laugh. "Come on, Steve. You don't really think I believe that, do you? You thought I wouldn't find out?"
"Find what out?" Steve snapped. "What are you talking about?"
"Your daughter. I just wish I knew that sooner. I might have done things a little differently."
The words didn't register at first. It took a few moments of silence for them to finally sink in. But… it couldn't be… It must've been a trick Roederer was trying to play. To get into his head. There was no way she could be his daughter. Or… was there?
Roederer hummed. Studied Steve's confused and bewildered expression with intent. "Interesting," he said, his grin widening. "You didn't know, did you?"
Steve's brain whirred as he tried to put the pieces together, barely registering the sound of sirens getting louder.
"But it doesn't matter. You know now." Roederer took a few careful steps toward Steve, eyeing the weapon in his hand with no hint of fear. Quite the contrary. The confidence radiated from the man as he stood face to face with Steve. "Too bad you didn't listen to me, Steve. I would leave your family alone had you pleaded guilty as I asked you to. But now…" He clicked his tongue. "Now the poor kid's gonna die just like her mommy. All because of you."
Snapping out of the mingled thoughts, Steve locked his gaze with Roederer's again. Anger was boiling inside him with the image of the man's smug grin and not knowing whether he was too late to save the girl was getting under his skin.
Breathe. Focus. Do what you came here for.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why kill all these people just to make me suffer?"
"Collateral damage."
Steve clenched his teeth. "You didn't have to drag Lynn into this. You had me drugged up. You could've killed me. Isn't that what you want?"
"We've talked about this, Steve," Roederer said, a hint of anger appearing in his eyes. "Killing you straight away wouldn't be enough. You have ruined my life. You took everything from me and I owe you the same."
"No. This isn't on me. It's you who partnered up with child slavers, remember? It's you who ruined your own life. Not me."
The grin on Roederer's face faltered just for a moment. "Oh, it was your fault. Had you never poked around no one would ever find out. But it's too late now, isn't it? My old life is gone and you'll pay for it. And so will everyone you love, I can promise you that. But I'll start with you. I didn't want to kill you just yet, but you didn't give me a choice. This is the end for you."
"I don't think so," Steve said.
The pain from his arm washed over him in nauseous waves, but he managed to aim the pistol. He willed his body and mind to keep going just for a little longer, and tried to focus on his target through the haze of fog that clouded his vision. He only had a single bullet. He had to make it count.
Roederer glared at him, unmoving. He was five feet away.
Steve's left bicep felt as though it had been mangled, the arm hanging uselessly down by his side. He was woozy from the pain. He knew, from experience, that it would get worse. It was the adrenaline that was holding him together, but the pain would overwhelm him eventually. He held the advantage, but he would not have it for long.
"What are you going to do, Steve?"
Steve tightened his grip on the pistol. He felt the old, familiar flick of his anger. His finger tightened around the trigger.
"Are you gonna shoot me? Prove everyone you're a murderer?" Roederer's lips curled into a grimace somewhere between a satisfied grin and an angry snarl. "Go ahead. But then there'll be no going back. Not even you can get away with that. Shoot me and you'll die in prison anyway."
Steve tried to tune out the pain. Roederer could surely see that he was injured. He would have noticed the way that his aim was slowly dropping, his gun arm gradually falling towards the floor. He would be making the same calculations that Steve had made moments earlier.
The distance between them. How quickly he could close it. The odds of a shot stopping him before he could reach his target. Steve knew his weakness was obvious and the other man would be able to practically smell it like blood.
The police were almost here, if the sound of the sirens was anything to go by. They would swarm around them soon. And no one would listen to a fugitive claiming his innocence if he was standing above a dead body with a gun in his hand.
He fought the anger and the pain and thought of Jamba. His boy needed him to come home, not to die behind the bars. Danny and the team probably needed him too, to clean up this mess and make sure they wouldn't suffer the consequences for saving his life. He couldn't help anyone if he would get himself arrested again.
"I'm not going to kill you," he said eventually, his voice quiet. "Maybe you should try your own medicine instead, how about that? You'll get a cozy bed and three meals a day."
"Really?" Roederer chuckled. "I am not going to prison, Steve. They have nothing on me."
"You're dumber than I thought if you believe that," Steve said. "Besides…" He tapped his bloodied fingers on the cell phone in his left pocket. "I've got this nice little chat recorded. Every single word."
Gone was the cocky grin. Roederer's eyes now shone with anger. "You can't use that."
"I can and I will. But there's more, you know? You've made some mistakes along the way. Enough to be sure you'll never see the daylight as a free man again. Kidnapping that child was your biggest one."
Roederer's gaze slid down to Steve's trembling and slowly dropping hand for a split second. He decided to take a risk. Slid a knife down from his sleeve. Charged across the deck.
Steve fired, but his reaction was too slow. The bullet hit the deck just as Roederer slammed onto him, knife in hand, aiming directly for Steve.
Steve dropped the now useless gun and squirmed back, but Roederer still clattered down onto him. They both ended up on their sides. They grappled, Roederer trying to get enough space to stick the blade into Steve who fought furiously to keep the weapon at bay.
He knew this needed to end. Now. He craned his head back and delivered a crushing head-butt to Roederer's nose. Blood poured, but Roederer still fought.
It was the week he'd been used as a punching bag along with the earlier fight and lack of nutrition that had drained Steve, and he didn't know how long he'd be able to hold the knife off.
Steve's knees buckled under extra strain and he ended up on the floor again, desperately trying to get back to his feet as soon as possible. He saw the foot coming toward his head and he rolled away as quickly as he could. Roederer's foot stomped down onto the deck with a thump. The knife plunged down right after that, to the spot where Steve's chest had been a split second before.
By the time Steve managed to scramble to his feet, Roederer was already up and launching another attack. He charged for Steve, and grabbed him around the waist like a rugby player and both of them flew off the side of a boat.
They splashed down into the darkness.
Under the water, as Roederer flailed, Steve managed to pull the knife free and slashed it across his opponent's shoulder, then used his feet to propel him away and thrust himself back to the surface.
Steve gasped for breath as he tried desperately to keep afloat, but the task was almost impossible with his body's very last energy reserves now completely gone. He barely sucked in a breath just before a small wave washed over his head and pushed him under despite his effort.
He could feel his body shutting down, yet he struggled to get back to the surface. He was close. Almost there. Just a few more inches.
But something further beneath brushed his leg. Roederer? Or was it something else? He couldn't see a thing. He kicked out, thrashing about. But nothing was there anymore. Maybe he just imagined it.
Then the arm grabbed him around the waist and legs wrapped tightly around his own. The weight dragged him down once more. He and Roederer tussled under the water and the knife slipped out of his hold, disappearing into water below. Steve did everything he could to pull himself free as they slipped further and further down.
His lungs were burning, and they were still sinking deeper as he tried to escape the vicious hold. He managed to wrench a leg free from Roederer's grip. He hammered it down. Roederer's head? Whatever he hit, the contact was solid, and Roederer's arm finally came loose. Still, Steve hit down again, then again. The next time he did so he connected with nothing.
He pushed his body back up, broke the surface of the water and took a desperate gasp of air. His body was laden and completely depleted. His heart felt like it would explode in his chest. He wasn't sure he could stay afloat, never mind swim back to the boat and haul himself out.
The next moment there was a booming gunshot and a splash of water inches from Steve's left. He ducked instinctively as he looked to the back of the yacht where a man was standing facing him.
Hoffman. Glaring at Steve from the back of the yacht, his left arm snaked around a tiny figure.
"That was your warning," Hoffman shouted over as Steve stared into the barrel of the gun. "The next one goes in your head."
*to be continued*
For those of you who missed Danny in these last two chapters - I promise he'll be back in the next one.
Let me know what you think if you find a moment.