Chapter 119
I FIRED AGAIN at the monster who had killed my wife and so many others, usually in unthinkable ways, with butcher hammers, saws, carving knives. Michael “the Butcher” Sullivan, die. Just die, you bastard. You deserve to die if anyone does on this earth.
He was climbing out of the car now.
What was happening? What was he doing?
He started to hobble in the direction of his wife and three sons. Blood was running down his shirt, seeping through, dripping onto his pants and shoes. Then Sullivan plopped down on the lawn beside his family. He hugged them to his sides.
Sampson and I moved forward at a slow run, puzzled by what was happening, unsure what to do next.
I could see streaks of blood on the boys, and all over Caitlin Sullivan. It was their father’s blood, the Butcher’s. When I got closer, I saw that he looked dazed, as if he might pass out or even die. Then he spoke to me. “She’s a good person. She didn’t know what I do, still doesn’t. These are good boys. Get them away from here, from the Mafia.”
I still wanted to kill him, and I was afraid he might live, but I lowered my gun. I couldn’t point it at his wife and his kids.
Sullivan laughed, and he suddenly raised his gun to his wife’s head. He yanked her up from the ground. “Put down the guns or I’ll kill her, Cross. I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’ll kill her. Even the boys. It’s not a problem for me. That’s who I am.”
The look on Caitlin Sullivan’s face wasn’t so much surprise or shock as terrible sadness and disappointment in this man whom she probably loved, or had loved at one time anyway. The youngest boy was screaming at his father, and it was heart-wrenching. “No, Daddy, no! Don’t hurt Mommy! Daddy, please!”
“Put the guns down!” Sullivan yelled.
What could I do? I had no choice. Not in my mind, not in my ethical universe. I dropped my Glock.
And Sullivan took a bow.
Then a shot exploded from his gun.
I felt a hard punch in the chest, and I was lifted halfway off the ground. For a second maybe, I was standing on my tiptoes. Dancing? Levitating? Dying?
I heard a second explosion ? and then there wasn’t much of anything. I knew that I was going to die, that I would never see my family again, and that I had no one to blame but myself.
I’d been warned enough times. I just didn’t listen.
The Dragon Slayer no more.