CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

When the men reached the entrance to the front of the hotel, they could see the security team backing up to the doors of Bourbon Street. Carl waved everyone back, pointing to a few of them to move left of the doors and a few to go right.

As the security team backed out the door, Carl stood behind one and spoke.

“What’s happening? I’m with the police,” he lied.

“Crazy asshole has a young girl with a knife to her throat. He’s already killed the other one.”

“Back up!” yelled Archie. “Back up, or I’ll slit her throat right now.”

“No, you won’t,” said Carl. “If you kill her, we’ll kill you before you take one step.”

Archie stared at the stranger and looked left and right to see a dozen more men.

“Who are you? You were in Nashville chasing me. Who the fuck are you?” Jonas stepped forward, his hands in the air.

“I’m the fiancé of Khloe Jones,” he said with a smile. “I can’t thank you enough for being such a shit. Helped me a lot. Oh, and on another note. I’m going to rip you to shreds for killing my wife and twins.”

The young girl squirmed against him, trying to get away. In the process of his shock, he nicked her neck with the knife, and she began to bleed all over the white robe.

“Let her go, Archie,” said the soft familiar voice.

“Fuck me,” growled Jonas under his breath. Carl gripped his arm, shaking his head slightly.

“Let her do this. Nothing will happen.”

“Khloe.”

“Archie, let her go. She’s done nothing to you. It’s me you want. Let the girl go, and I’ll take her place.”

Archie stared at the woman he once thought would be his ticket to political stardom. She would have been the perfect companion. Smart, beautiful, and a doctor. Perfection. Now, all he could see was betrayal.

“You’re a lying cunt!”

“I think you’re confused, Archie. You lied to me. You lied to your parents. You lied to everyone. I told the truth. You killed Mrs. Samson and her unborn twins. I couldn’t ignore that.”

“You were my fiancée! You were supposed to be loyal to me!” he screamed. From behind Khloe, Hazel and Piper stood close, whispering things to her.

“Keep going, Khloe. You’re making him angrier, and that will help us.” She gave a soft nod and looked at Archie.

“I have to report criminal activity, Archie. Let the girl go. She’s going to pass out soon from the blood loss. You’ve nicked her artery.” He hadn’t nicked anything except skin, but she knew that he didn’t know the difference. He would panic eventually and push the girl away.

“She can fucking die, for all I care,” he ground out.

“Got him in my sights,” said the voices of BJ and Jak. Carl only gave a nod.

“Let her go, Archie.” He just stood staring at her, his body starting to shake from the cold. “You’re becoming hypothermic. You’re shaking.”

“Shut up!”

“How many, Archie? How many women have you killed beyond the ones we know about? How many were there before Mrs. Samson?”

“You think you know me,” he scoffed. “You didn’t know me. I love the feeling of being in control. I had to be careful with you because I needed you to marry me. Yeah, there were others. I owed favors.”

“Favors to Colonel Brockman,” she said. His eyes went wide and darted from side to side. “I knew. I knew that you owed Brockman favors, and he owed you favors. You helped him to kill Admiral Harris, and for some ridiculous reason, you killed Mrs. Samson and her babies.”

“I hate you,” he sneered.

“I feel the same way.” She took two steps forward, and Jonas moved as if to stay in step with her. Carl gripped his arm, nodding toward her. “Let the girl go.”

Khloe held her hand out to the girl, and she squirmed, unable to get away at first. Then she tried again, and his grip loosened. She ran toward Khloe and then to the two women behind her.

“You said you’d trade places with her,” he said, still holding the steak knife. Khloe nodded at him.

“I lied.”

As Archie tried to take a step forward, U-Jin leaped from the balcony above, landing on his shoulders. They could hear the cracking of bones and tendons as he was crushed to the cold concrete of the street by the force of the other man. Garr kicked the steak knife out of his hand, then rolled him over, zip-tying his hands.

Screaming in pain, he lay on the street, still naked and cold.

“Help me! You’re a doctor. Help me!” he cried.

“No one can help you now, Archie. No one. You’re going to face everyone for the crimes you’ve committed. We have your confessions recorded, and you’re going to either face the death penalty or die in prison.”

Jonas walked toward Khloe with a look that resembled anger. She almost took a step backward, but he gripped her arms, pulling her into his body.

“You scared the fuck out of me,” he whispered in her ear. She let out a long breath and then cried. Holding her, he walked away from Archie and toward their vehicles.

As the sun began to peek over the skyline of the city, Archibald Mansur Jr. was loaded into an ambulance chained to the bed. In the weeks that followed, he would spend agonizing days recovering from his injuries, all while awaiting trial.

It didn’t surprise anyone that he was willing to throw everyone under the bus. His father. His mother. His friends. Even people who barely knew him were listed as possible accomplices. Archie was a weasel, a snitch, and a murderer.

It seemed apropos when they received the news that he was killed in his cell by a fellow inmate.