Here we go then everyone. It's crunch time!
xXBalorBabeXx, Yep, Ella is definitely not a nice person!
Wolfgirl2013, Thank you!
Minnie1015, Oops (guilty face) although to be fair, I never promised when I would save Dean. Or even if…(evil cackle) Aww, thanks for the compliments on my plot. I actually really enjoyed writing a twisty murder mystery. Top tip; start with who did the crime and then work backwards!
Rebel8954, I think it's safe to say that neither you or Dean saw it coming! As for Seth? Well, guess you'll just have to wait and see…
Mandy, Aww, best of luck for your phone interviews. Keep on channelling that inner eye patch Mox and pretend he's hanging over your shoulder encouraging you to do well! Mum is doing okay thank you. Now, did I hear you calling for Roman? Hmm, better see what I can do in this chapter!
XwwecoyoteX, Yay! Glad you liked all the twisty bits. It's so hard knowing how obvious or not things seem when you know who did it as you're writing! Yep, Dean needs all his dogs to come help. Especially his big dog (and I'm not talking about Brock!)
Skovko, *trumpet sounds* Puppy Power!
Cheryl24, Hmm, funny you should ask about Henry, because as it turns out, the revelations aren't quite over!
Martha, I wonder who that might be? (Haha, just kidding). Expect a whole lot going on in this chapter though!
Notokwiththat, Hi and welcome to the party. Well, I often say that hurt Dean and comforting Roman is my speciality (and guilty pleasure) so I guess you'll just have to wait and find out if I've carried it into this story as well (honestly, the chances are high!)
Lunatic789, Well, if you thought that was intense, you might want to strap in for this chapter as well! Hope you love it as much as the last one!
Phoenix lord of rebirth, Yay! I'm so glad you liked it! I really enjoyed writing that chapter (because the villain always has to reveal their plot in these things!) but not as much as I enjoyed writing this one...
I-Am-WarKitten, Definitely close. Now, the question is do I save Dean or not? Hmm...
Ready?
TWENTY FOUR
The worst part about his life flashing before him, is that only the bad stuff seems to show up. Like the time his dog had died back in high school. Even though it technically hadn't been his dog, since it had just been some stray that had been in the neighborhood that he had brought home one day and which had not gone down well. Because, yep, new flashback — his mom's asshole boyfriend beating the living crap out of him for bringing home a dog without asking him first.
Dogs. Crap.
He hopes someone nice takes Seth and Brock in. Maybe even Roman when the big guy finds out he's dead. Which would kind of be nice, because Seth likes Roman and Roman's wife and especially his kid. Not that it much helps poor Carl the pigeon. Still, Carl's ballsy, so he'll probably be fine.
As Ella pulls the hammer back into place he squeezes his eyes shut and then braces for the bang.
Which never comes.
"Don't do this mom," Henry Hurley breaks in through the madness, "You, you can't kill us. I mean, you're my mother. You gave birth to me, so — ,"
Ella lets out a laugh which cuts in cruelly and okay, somewhat bizarrely through his pleading, like she knows something he doesn't. In the pause Dean twists his hands and tries to reach up to the end of the knotwork so he can tease free an end.
"Oh my god. You still don't know. You, the guy who runs a website on conspiracies and uncovering the truth," Ella snorts, "You still don't know."
Henry blinks like an owl through his spectacles,
"Know — know what?"
"Don't listen to her son," Christopher Hurley puts in suddenly, also trying to loosen his own knots, except with more grunting and wincing than Dean's doing, which makes it a lot more obvious and hopeless as well, since Ella simply turns the gun in his direction which makes the billionaire panic and freeze up.
Gulp.
"Know what?" Henry repeats again a little clearer, although he's turned completely beetroot and his glasses have steamed back up. Dear god, Dean is caught in an episode of Passions.
Ella shrugs coolly,
"That I'm not your real mom. Your real mom was a maid that we hired for about a second, which was all it took your father here to go and get the stupid bitch pregnant."
Henry gapes at her open mouthed,
"No."
Christ. No wonder she was done with her husband, Dean even wants to freaking box him in the head, which he will do just as soon as he gets his damn hands free.
"Which is why, on second thoughts, I'll maybe start with you instead," she pushes the barrel of the gun towards Christopher, who sits back in panic, "I've waited years for this."
Although yet again her attempt is interrupted by someone suddenly calling out of the blue — or out of the dark, because that's where it comes from — in low even tones that sound unnaturally calm. Not to mention unnaturally familiar.
"Easy baby girl. You don't wanna do this."
Holy shit. Roman?
"Who's there?" Ella barks, pointing the gun into the darkness but clearly not entirely sure where to fire. Even though it still makes Dean's heart kind of somersault. Because no freaking way does he want his brother to get shot and especially because there's going to be a whole lot of paperwork he needs to help file when the case is wrapped up. Provided that Ella doesn't murder the lot of them, which he can't be too sure of.
"Roman, get out of here."
"Nah," his voice rings back for the second time, super chilled sounding but also kind of dangerous, "Think I might hang around here. Make sure this bitch doesn't murder my partner."
Whoa. Go Reigns.
Ella trembles with rage, or possibly from the fact that for the first time that evening, she possibly isn't one hundred percent in control,
"Where are you? Come out. Come out or I start shooting."
"You sure about that?" the big man rumbles back, stepping out of the dark church shadows in front of them holding —
Dean squints.
Holy crap. Is that a gun? Because where in the hell did Reigns get a gun from? Not that Dean can see too well from where he is, since the chair he's tied to is pointed at the altar, which means he has to crane his neck around to get a look. Which hurts like a bitch. Or hurts like Ella Hurley, which Reigns has established is pretty much the same thing.
Speaking of bitches, Ella Hurley screams at him,
"Where's Howard. Where is he?"
"You mean Merrick?" Roman chirps, moving steadily closer towards them, but keeping his gun trained on the woman the whole time, "He got held up. The police wanted to talk to him and I'm guessing that they're going to wanna talk to you too. So how about you do the right thing and put the gun down?"
"No," Ella shrieks like a banshee, "They have to die."
Although Dean can see the moment that her confidence leaves her and presumably her plans for Bora Bora too. Or no, where was it again? Martin something? In blind panic she aims the gun at Henry again, who shuffles himself back into his chair and then swallows.
"I'll kill him," she bellows, "I'll kill him."
"No you won't," Roman responds stepping in even closer, to the point that he's almost cleared the dark wooden pews, but is not close enough to make a launch for the firearm or tackle it away from her, "You wouldn't kill your own son. Because, I mean sure, you're a whole lot of evil, but you're not that evil."
"He's not my son."
"Yes he is," Roman insists. And okay, so it's not an episode of Passions, because Dean is in a Doctor Phil special instead, "I mean, you might not be the one who gave birth to him, but you loved him and took care of him. That makes him your son, so I don't believe for one second here that you'd hurt him. Him or your husband."
The gun trembles in her hand and tears start to well in her cold, hard eyeballs. For a second at least, because then they're all gone as instead she prods the barrel right into Dean's forehead, so that he's forced to lean backwards,
"Maybe not. But I'll kill him."
"No you won't," Roman chuckles — chuckles — back at her, which doesn't go down especially well, given that Ella grits her teeth in pure fury and then pushes the gun barrel further into his head. She's right on the cusp of losing her senses.
Dean swallows nervously,
"Uh, hey listen big guy. I mean, not that I don't like, appreciate you comin' down here, but could you stop freakin' helpin'?"
Ella pushes again and he breaks off with a groan as his neck complains bitterly and his shoulders and the arms that are pinned behind his back. Behind him hears Roman step in a final time, sounding more pissed than ever,
"Damn it Ella, let him go."
She sneers,
"Oh please. Is this you trying to negotiate? Well nice try handsome, but it's not going to work. I mean, you don't even know what you're doing."
"No, but I do."
Huh?
They all swing around, peering to the left where the new voice has come from just in time to see Detective freaking Hackett stepping out, flanked by a half a dozen of his colleagues in Cincinnati's finest shades of gold and deep blue.
"Now do what he says Mrs Hurley and put the gun down," the old timer grumbles and with a measure of weariness, like he resents having to be there trying to take down a standoff at nearly gone twelve o' clock at night. Or maybe like he's missing old reruns of The Ed Sullivan Show, "We have your associate in custody. It's over, so how about we end this nice and peacefully now?"
"No."
As Ella pushes the gun in further, Dean hears something in his neck sort of click and in response the whole room and the cops and Roman seem to tense up around him. Yeah, like they hadn't been before.
"No," Ella repeats, "No, it's not over, because I still have a hostage and if you want him to live then I want a car out of here and a million dollars. No, two million dollars."
In response Hackett glares across the church in resentment, but otherwise doesn't move.
Ella prods again,
"Now."
Except before anyone jumps to carry her demands out — or probably more likely try to tell her no dice — they are all interrupted by a tiny tap-tap noise making its way down the central church aisle, which kind of sounds like a scrabbling animal.
Or make that two scrabbling animals.
Seth comes into view first, bursting from the darkness like he's been shot from a cannon and ploughing headfirst into Ella Hurley's legs, which knocks the baffled looking murderess backwards so that the gun barrel finally moves away from Dean's head. As she looks down to try and see what is happening, Brock lumbers up trailing a litre of drool and launches his front paws up into her midriff, which makes her trip clumsily over the altar and flip back over it with a horrified squeal. The gun goes off with a blast towards the vaulting and the entire police department — and Henry and Christopher and Roman and even Detective Hackett — seem to flinch, although the noise is quickly drowned out by the screeching ringing out from behind the altar,
"No, not dogs. I hate dogs, I hate them. No. Someone get rid of them. Get these mutts off me."
"Babe?" Roman calls out, crossing the last few feet of the aisle in what Dean figures must be his football player run, as in front of them Hackett and several men in uniform try and wrestle Seth and Brock back and then swipe up the gun, "Babe? Are you okay?"
Dean drops his head forwards, which hurts, but feels nice.
Oh fuck. So nice.
"Yeah," he nods. Which also hurts, "Yeah, m' okay. But, what the fuck are you doin' here?"
"Merrick showed up at my house," Roman rumbles, instantly ducking down low behind the chair and then beginning to unravel the freaking ball of knotwork that Henry and Christopher had fudged together earlier on, like the pair of them had been going for their rope badge on a weekend campout for the god damn sea cadets, "Put a gun to my wife and then tried to kill me in my own god damn kitchen. Said his buddy was going to do the same to you. So I figured you might need a little help from your partner."
"Fuck," Dean gapes, "Is everyone okay? Like your wife an' your kid? He didn't like, freakin' hurt 'em?"
"Nah," Roman grins, wiggling at the last knot and although Dean can't see the bigger man's expression, it kind of sounds like he's smiling, which is probably from the shock, "They're okay. A little bit shaken maybe. My wife hit Merrick with a rolling pin."
"Crap," Dean snorts back in what is meant to be approval, but it comes out at the same time that his bindings fall loose, which means it ends up sounding orgasmic and low and thankful, "Oh holy crap."
"Better?"
"Yeah," he nods, "That's better."
In response Roman lays a palm over his nape and then begins to knead at the muscles, which is practically heaven after being all jacked up. In front of them Ella is being dragged to her feet again, spitting and snarling like some kind of feral dog and squealing with terror as Seth nips at her ankles and froths at the mouth. Her headscarf has come loose and she looks about as far from Classic Hollywood stylings as it seems possible to get. Which is the least she deserves.
"Hey uce?" Dean groans as she is hauled away from them, by what in the end takes eight combined cops. His voice has a tiny sort of hitch sound to it which he isn't expecting, "She killed Jennifer."
"I know," Roman's hand tightens over his neckline, grounding him, "I know. I know she did babe. But at least we did what we promised her parents. We found her."
"Yeah."
Although it doesn't feel enough.
Seth comes proudly trotting back over, holding a piece of Ella's headscarf in his mouth and Dean bends down and scoops the mutt closer, which for once the cotton ball doesn't snap at him for.
"And as for you, ya little freakin' savage," he scruffs the white hair up fondly, "Thanks man."
Somewhere in the distance Henry and Christopher are hugging, which seems like a nice resolution to that. Because who would have thought the way to unify a family would be to break the bombshell news that their wife and mother was a fraud and to truss them up in a Catholic place of worship and nearly blow both of their idiot brains out?
Life is funny like that sometimes.
"So," Roman sighs, moving round to stand in front of him and then pulling Dean back up onto his weary feeling feet, "Does saving your ass mean I'm no longer fired?"
Dean screws his face up like he's thinking about it,
"Well. I mean, I guess I could put you on probation, as long as you tell me one thing."
"What's that?"
"Where in the hell did you get a gun from?"
Roman chuckles and then lifts the thing up, before pulling the trigger with a shrug of his shoulders and letting the tiny little flame flicker out.
"Before I came here I kinda stopped by the office, thought it might help if it looked like I was armed."
Beyond them Hackett is shouting out orders as more and more bewildered looking cops start to arrive and even the big old bodyguard Batista who looks wide eyed with panic. Hackett is chewing a cigar again, but he meets Dean's gaze over all of the madness and winks at him fondly. Or semi fondly perhaps. Or maybe he's got something in his eye and he's really pissed at him, but either way the private eye doesn't mind.
He grins,
"Nice idea uce, wonder where you got it from."
Roman snorts back at him. But unlike Hackett the sound is fond, which he makes even clearer by tousling Dean's hair up and then pulling him in closer.
"Who else babe? My best friend."
Aww. Who requested feels? Still got a couple of chapters left so we can wrap things up, so hopefully I'll see you back here next week. Same time, same place!