Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sam lingered in the kitchen after clearing away their evening meal, muttering over the fact that the plumbing in the kitchen wasn't one of the things they'd fixed properly. Justin left him to it after his offer to help was met with a scowl. Clearly the kitchen was Sam's place, and not to be interfered with in any way.

Justin yawned as exhaustion from the injury, from talking, hell, even from thinking, caught up with him, and he lay on the bed. He could still see Sam from there, and for a few seconds, imagined that kind of domesticity as the norm.

Just as quickly he recalled the bullets, and the fear, and the fact he was a killer, and shut down, pushed the idea of being with someone to the back of his head. He was way too fucked-up to get to that point.

He rolled onto his side and shut his eyes; somehow he slept.

When he woke he was disoriented, lying on top of the covers. Next to him, Sam was facing the wall; his breathing was steady and he was clearly sleeping. He'd fallen asleep reading, by the looks of it, and he was fully dressed.

As Justin was.

So, what had woken him?

Something prickled at the top of his spine, awareness that he was being watched. He reached for his weapon, but remembered the gun wasn't under his pillow but was in the drawer; he cursed himself for letting his guard down.

"Hi, Justin," Rob said from the darkness.

Justin turned to face him, knowing this was it, the end of the road.

"I'll go with you," he said simply. Away from here, away from Sam and my family. Don't hurt them.

"No need for that," Rob said.

The moonlight filtering through gaps in the drapes highlighted the metal of a gun, but it wasn't pointing at Justin. Rob was utterly still, sitting on the windowsill, his form responsible for the drapes being apart. The gun rested on his knee, held in one hand, and as Justin's eyes grew accustomed to the dark, he saw Rob was completely relaxed.

"You don't need to do this," Justin whispered.

He didn't want to wake Sam. If this was Rob's way of dealing with the situation, by killing him and Sam together, then he didn't want Sam to know a thing about it.

"Who's your friend?"

"No one."

Rob shook his head. "No one who cooks you dinner and then clears up the kitchen. No one who finds you asleep in bed and presses a kiss to your forehead before he lies next to you to read?"

"He's not a part of this." Justin smoothly swung to place his feet on the floor. The drawer holding the gun was a whole other movement away. No way would he get there before Rob put a bullet in his head.

"I know."

"Then leave him out of it. I'll go with you, and you can get this over and done with, and he doesn't have to know."

"Uh-huh."

"One favor, though, take me off Crooked Tree land, I don't want the kids or my family to find me."

Rob was silent and Justin tensed. Maybe he could get to his gun, but Sam was in the line of fire, and Rob was as good as Justin had been at finishing the jobs he was given.

"No one will find you," Rob eventually said.

Professional courtesy was something Justin hadn't expected, but maybe nebulous friendship counted for something. "And you won't hurt Sam?"

"I have no intention of hurting anyone."

Justin was relieved. More than relieved, he was done. This was the inevitable end to his life; it had just come twelve years too late.

"Let's go."

"Outside," Rob said. His voice was so quiet that Justin struggled to hear, but he got the point. He stood up, careful to keep his hands where Rob could see them, looking only briefly at Sam. One last look, and then he pushed his shoulders back and walked out of the bedroom. He sensed Rob following, and hoped to hell that he would be as good as his word.

Justin headed for the forest.

"That's far enough," Rob said.

Justin rounded on him, stricken. "You promised it would be away from here."

"I said I wasn't here to hurt anyone." Rob sighed, and with his trademark twist, he holstered his gun. "Sorry about that, but if you woke up trigger-happy, I at least wanted a standoff."

Justin still had his hands up at shoulder height and he slowly lowered them. "What?"

"This is the deal. I don't kill you…."

"And in return?"

"You don't kill me."

"What?" It was like being picked up and dropped into a movie where he didn't know the plot or the script. None of it made sense.

"I'm done, Justin, okay? We were the last. I won't do this anymore, and I took out the final nail. Clarke is gone now, and no accountability means we're clear."

"How did you manage that?"

Rob looked like he was deciding whether to tell him. "Clarke took exception to my deciding we'd had enough, and I dealt with it."

Justin wasn't going to ask questions about Clarke, but something else worried him. "What about higher up? Who was he reporting to?"

Rob shrugged. "Let's just say Clarke reported to Senator McClelland. I left the good Senator crying like a baby with the threat of death hanging over him if he didn't make the team info disappear. He claims he's a figurehead, nothing more."

"You believe him?"

"I think it stopped with Clarke and him." Then he sobered. "I deserve a life the same as you do. But I need to find a family now, a place to stop running. Not like you, you have a family."

Rob didn't have a family? Justin hadn't known that.

They weren't even friends, if Justin really looked at it.

Just coworkers.

Cokillers.

"Where will you go?" Justin asked.

"Away. And you?"

Justin glanced back at the cabin and knew what his answer would be. "I have to go. I don't want to," he admitted, "but, my list."

Rob shook his head and gestured to the cabin. "What about the man you left in there, seems you owe him something?"

Justin frowned. "He's better off without me."

Rob stared at him for a moment until Justin began to feel uncomfortable. "This is goodbye, then," Rob said. He sounded emotional, and Justin frowned. He took Rob's extended hand and they shook. "A piece of advice, Justin, from someone who's seen everything you've done, who's been the one to back you up and has experience in this kind of thing. Stop the revenge. Don't go after Jamie Crane. The poison is too much for one person to bear."

"Rob…."

Rob shook his head and with a mock salute, he vanished into the darkness.

Justin looked up at the wide Montana sky; the stars that were so clear he felt like he could reach out and touch them.

So that was done, then. And his friend had left. Yes. Friend .

He made his way back into the cabin, lifted the gun from the drawer as quietly as he could, and picked up the few bits he had. A couple of bottled waters, his phone, some snacks, and by 3:00 a.m. he, too, had vanished into the trees.

Rob wanted him to stop. But Justin couldn't stop until he had all five names crossed off that list.

For himself.

And for Adam.

And then, maybe, he'd be able to rest.

But he'd never be able to come back home.