She fell silent, swallowing repeatedly, blinking rapidly as she fought off tears.
“That’s it?” the Irishman on the ground asked.
“That is . . . it. Yes. There is no treasure.”
“What about the basement?” Alex suggested.
“We’re looking for redcoat treasure; the basement was barricaded by minutemen,” JD countered.
Nick slowly lowered his gun, his eyes unfocusing.
“Nick?” Kelly whispered.
Nick didn’t answer.
“Irish?”
Nick winced and lowered his head. “Fuck,” he whispered.
Kelly lowered his weapon as well, meeting Nick’s eyes with a dawning dread. “You know where the treasure is, don’t you?”
“I know where the treasure is,” Nick confirmed. He looked at the woman apologetically. “Can you tell us exactly how big that monument is?”
“Over the grave?”
Nick nodded. Someone in the room cursed under his breath.
“It . . . it’s rather large. It’s a granite obelisk. Maybe twelve feet tal ?”
Nick nodded, lowering his gun further. “That’s that,” he said.
“They buried the treasure with minutemen?” JD asked.
“They knew the grave wouldn’t be desecrated by Colonials, so the treasure would stay hidden. And when the war was lost, going back to the shiny new America and digging up national heroes was not an option for any persona non grata like an Irish redcoat.”
Nick glanced sideways at Kelly. Kelly slowly lowered his gun, his body relaxing against Nick’s. Alex had stowed her weapon as well, and she looked crestfallen. She seemed to really be in it to find missing pieces of history, not merely for profit.
Julian had transferred his aim back to Southie, who was still holding Cameron and pointing his gun at Nick.
“That’s it,” Nick said softly. “Game’s over. Time to give up the gun.”
“Fuck you, we didn’t come this close to let a piece of f**king rock get in the way. We’ll come back tonight with a Cat. Knock that bitch over, dig up our treasure, and get our payday.”
Kelly looked over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. He didn’t dare turn around though, not when he knew there was still a gun pointed at Nick.
“We’re leaving, and we’re taking this f**ker with us as insurance,” Southie snarled with a jab at Cameron’s cheek.
“Over my dead body,” Julian growled. “No. Make that over your dead body.”
Nick felt the mood in the room shift almost instantly.
It was an instinct honed over many years of gunfights and negotiations, the ability to tell when a situation had just turned hopeless.
The man on the ground went for his belt, where a gun had indeed been hidden beneath his shirt. Nick shoved his shoulder into Kelly, sending them both to the floor.
Southie fired at them, holding Cameron in front of him as a human shield. Cameron knocked his elbow into Southie’s chin, and Southie stumbled back, falling into JD as the gun went off again.
Nick sat up and fired a single shot, taking the Irishman through the back of the hand as he attempted to pull the trigger. His gun went flying and he screamed, holding his bloody hand to his chest.
Julian also took one shot, but he wasn’t aiming to maim.
Southie took the bullet right between the eyes as he was trying to scramble to his feet. His body made a solid thud when it hit the floorboards.
And just like that, it was over. Nick slowly got to his feet, gun still in hand. Alex had taken cover on the stairs, and as soon as she raised her head, Nick gestured to her to get out of the house. She darted forward, not for the door, but for the museum curator with her bonnet in hand. Alex pulled her to her feet and propelled her toward the door, running after her and shielding the woman’s body with her own.
Julian pulled something from his pocket and tossed it into the center of the room. Nick stared at it, not registering what it was.
“Flashbang!” Kelly shouted, and he grabbed Nick and pulled him down. They both covered their ears and squeezed their eyes tight as the flash grenade went off.
The high-pitched whine in Nick’s ears was one he knew all too well, and even with his eyes closed and his face buried against Kelly’s chest, the flash had caused stars behind his eyes. He sat up dazedly, trying to shake off the cobwebs.
Julian and Cameron were both gone.
“Motherfucker,” Nick muttered. A groan from the other side of the room drew his attention, and Nick struggled to his feet. He bent over Kelly first, patting his cheek. “Okay?”
“I hate those things,” Kelly shouted. He put a finger in his ear and wiggled it.
Nick nodded, straightening. He stumbled through the smoke across the room and found JD on his back, blood flowing freely from a wound in his torso. Nick stared at him for a few seconds, his mind chugging to catch up.
“Corpsman up!” he finally called, his voice so hoarse that Kelly’s abused ears didn’t hear it. “Doc! Man down!”
Kelly fumbled his way over, fal ing to his knees at JD’s side.
Nick patted his pockets for his phone before remembering he’d dropped it outside before all the shooting had started.
When he looked down at his hand, he realized there was blood spreading across his shirt. He pulled his jacket away, confused about where it was coming from. When he pulled his shirt up, he found the wound.
“Go call an ambulance, Irish,” Kelly said to him. He was working on JD, trying to stop the blood.
“Kels,” Nick whispered.
“Go cal !” Kelly shouted without looking up.
Nick nodded. When he turned to go after his phone, though, a man was standing there, gun drawn, badge out.
Nick stopped in his tracks, blinking at him.
“Son of a bitch, Nick!” Hagan shouted.
Nick winced, and his head pounded. He took a step back, his foot hit something on the floor, and he sat down hard.
Kelly’s hand groped for him, his fingers finally threading through Nick’s as Nick lay back and put a hand over his eyes to block out all the brightness.
“You’re hit!” Kelly shouted at him.
“It’s not bad,” Nick muttered. “Not bad.”
“Stay with me, bud,” he could hear Kelly saying. “Don’t let go.”
Nick turned his head. Kelly was sitting between JD and Nick. He was holding his shirt to JD’s wound with one hand, and pressed Nick’s palm to his own wound with the other.
Nick cried out.
“Don’t let go, okay?” Kelly whispered to him, applying more pressure to the wound.