The Fall of East: Book 3 in the Hear No Evil Trilogy by Malone, Nana (ebook reader with internet browser .txt) 📗

intended to let you bring me in because I know how much it meant to you to show him you could capture me when he couldn’t. But now I don't want you to see me in jail. I want you to know how much I love you. That's how I want you to remember me."

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. "But this is... this is impossible. You're making this impossible."

"I know. And I’ll do whatever you want, Nyla. All you have to do is ask, but you need to decide now. I hear your people coming.”

“You gave me your word,” I said, my voice wavering.

“If you want me to go with you, I will let you arrest me because you're my daughter. Tell me what you want, Nyla."

"I can't. This isn’t fair."

"My darling girl, nothing is fair. Not in this world we're living in."

"And partnering me with East? What the hell was that about?"

"I knew he would keep you safe. I knew that he would risk everything. I'd already seen him do it for a friend. At first, I thought maybe Ben Covington seemed like a good match, but he was already smitten. Bridge, he's too closed off. You didn’t need that. You need fewer secrets in your life, not more. You need someone who's going to encourage you and be happy for you. You need someone capable of happiness."

I shook my head, hearing my colleagues upstairs and knowing I had a choice to make. My whole career, I’d watched my father chase one man. Then I had chased him. Now was the moment of truth, and I surprised the both of us.

"You have to go." The words tumbled from my mouth, and I couldn't even believe I'd said them.

His eyes went wide. "What?"

"You need to go."

"Nyla, be sure. Because once I'm in the wind, I'll be gone. Be sure."

"You sound like East. I know what I want. Go." My hands were shaking, and I couldn't breathe. "Just go."

"Nyla."

"If you're going to go, then do it, old man. I can't do this knowing that I could lose you. You're the only one I have left."

"That’s not true, Nyla. You have a lot more than you think."

"Well, we'll see about that. Now go."

There was rattling at the door, and my eyes went wide.

"It might be too late for that. If I go, they'll know you helped me."

God, I couldn't breathe. "Oh shit, you're going to have to shoot me."

His eyes went wide. "I told you, the gun is just for show."

"Yeah, well, not today. You will have to shoot me, because if you don't, I will get a bunch of questions I cannot answer."

"Nyla. Let's not do this."

"You have left me no choice, old man."

His lips twitched into a smirk then. "Who are you calling old?"

"You, you old geezer. Now move it. Lift the gun. If you could just shoot where East already shot me, that would be excellent."

His brow furrowed. "He really did shoot you?"

"Yes.” I waved him off. “He apologized."

My father, Francois Theroux, laughed. "My, you do remind me of me and your mother."

"Shoot, or we'll have a problem."

"I don't want to shoot you Nyla."

"Then I'm going to be forced to shoot myself, and there's going to be an investigation as to why the bullet came from my own gun. Save me the trouble. Shoot me."

He winced and said, "I really don't want to do this."

"You don't have any choice. Do it."

He raised his gun, and then he fired.

White-hot, searing pain blasted through my shoulder, and I cried out, "Jesus fucking Christ. Why does it hurt so much?"

My father watched me. "You are stubborn."

"Yup, been told that too."

"Nyla…"

"Stop it. You shot me, now go."

"But I—"

"Old man, move your ass. They're coming, and I promise if they find you here, Denning Sinclair is not going to believe anything that comes out of my mouth. So go."

"Just so you know, I loved you always. I watched every single accomplishment of yours, and I've been nothing but proud of you. Even if you did have a little bit more of me in you than I wanted."

"You mean, I make a good criminal?"

He chuckled. "You're fiercer than you think. You care about your people. And you're a little impulsive."

"I guess from you, maybe that's a compliment."

"It's intended as one."

And then Francois Theroux was gone, taking the Collins painting with him.

The pain spread through my body, and I wanted to cry as I dropped to my knees.

Jesus Christ, my fucking shoulder would never work right again. But still, it was better than being shot in my other shoulder and having both of my arms not quite work right.

When the doors to the crypt busted open, Amelia was in first. "I heard a gunshot."

I winced. "Theroux's gone."

She stared at my shoulder. "Jesus Christ, Ny, what happened?"

"Ah well, you know, Theroux got away. What do you think happened?"

Her gaze narrowed on me. "I guess we'll talk about this later?"

"Yeah, I think later is a fantastic time to talk about all of this."

Denning was behind her, as were the rest of my team. Denning stared at me. "What the fuck happened?"

"Francois Theroux and Jameson were after the same Wilson Collins painting. He made off with it."

Denning cursed. "Theroux was here? You had him?"

"Yeah. Well, almost had him. Not quite the same."

Amelia scowled at him. "Do you mind if I take my agent to the hospital?"

Denning stared at me. "You're fucking shot again?"

"Yes. Apparently, I should not have gone running off halfcocked after an international art thief."

"You got shot by Theroux?"

"Yeah. What, you think I shot myself?"

"Just... God fucking damn it."

He stalked out of the room, and Amelia grinned at me. "Oh my God, his head is about to spin off its axis."

"I know."

"Are you okay though?"

"You know, generally I’ve been better."

"Ny, you’ve got to stop getting yourself shot."

'Yes, I will keep that in mind. Thanks for saying that."

She laughed. "You have a very nervous boyfriend on the other perimeter, screaming at me that I need to get you the