Lost Game Notes (Novel)

Chapter 28: Him

 If it were Dawn, she would have uttered a line of eighteenth-century poetry as her last words. All Alex could come up with was exactly what was on his mind: "All this just to become a lawyer?"

Lawrence face, cut out of sharp shadows, scowled. His eyes glinted, past the barrel of his pistol at Alex. He prowled forward, sneering down at Alex. " Not just. Law is my life. I and Conan go far back, but when I learned there was only one position, I knew I would do anything to get it. Satisfied?"

Alex head swarmed, memories and thoughts colliding into each-other. The story was clear now, and vomit inducing. He swallowed past the dread clogging his throat. "But—but how? You're not a judge."

A fanged smile crossed Lawrence lips. He swayed a few, meager feet away. "Deception, control and manipulation. I have mastered all. Why else do you think Conan is in jail?"

"No he's not!" Dawn raged, pressing out from behind Alex, who grabbed a hold of her arm. "He's been released, you idiot! You failed, Lawrence. You've got bad motives, and I swear you've got a stone for a heart."

"Such wise words," Lawrence drawled, rubbing a thumb over the cold metal of his pistol. He let the silence stretch on for a long second, relishing their discomfort. "Just like Olivia, too nosy for your own good. And what happened to Olivia?"

"You killed her," Dawn stated flatly, then her eyes widened.

Lawrence smirked. "Wrong. Good to know you're still human. I was beginning to think otherwise. Of course, I had someone do the dirty work. I wouldn't stain my hands—"

"Hudson!" Alex blurted, realization striking him. "It was him, wasn't it? You hired him to kill Olivia?"

Lawrence eyes widened for a fraction of a second, hand gripped his lethal weapon harder. "Where did you get that from?"

"Hudson! No!" Kamila shrieked all of a sudden, just as a figure stepped into the dim lamplight.

All heads turned in that direction.
There a man stood, or a fraction of a man. He was tall, broad shouldered and muscular. Thick burn marks marred his face, just like Alex had seen in the picture. The sleeve of his shirt was pinned together at one side, and at the other, a muscle ridged arm that tapered into a hand. The cane he clutched unto like his lifeline made him look vulnerable.

"William?" Lawrence sputtered."You! I thought you—you died!"
William's milky eyes searched the direction of the sound. "Almost," he confirmed, in a deep, rumbling baritone. "Escaped the police by a hair. I knew they would track you down if they got a hold of me. I won't blame you for what happened to me, but I'll never forgive myself." The great hulk of a man paused, and when he spoke again, his voice trembled. "Sometimes I—I almost wish I died. I grew up in a tough situation. I didn't care if someone lived or died... But I never thought of how one person means everything to another. When you're all banged up at death's door at death's door, with no one to care if you die or not, you...you suddenly realize life is so much more precious than you take it for. Lawrence, mate, I don't want to see you in a ditch before you realize you're wrong. I've been there. It's a horrible, horrible place."

There was all but one dry eye when William stopped talking. Lawrence had lowered his gun, but his grip was just as tight, arms taut.

He sneered, "What you're saying is that I should lett you sorry excuses for human beings run off and blabber to the police? I'm not that stupid, Hudson."

"It's never to late, Lawrence," Kamila's spoke softly, pressing a damp, bloody tissue to her split cheek. "This can stop right here. If you turn your life around, it will be our gain, not loss."

Everyone knew Lawrence was done for, but at this point, the only matter was to persuade Lawrence not to shot them all, or himself.

For a moment, Alex could see through the cracked window into his soul, into the brokenness and bitterness. Even if he did put the gun down, would there really be any hope for him at all?

"If you'll just put down the gun," The pig-eyed man began.

"I can't," Lawrence came to, his face hardening once more, eyes glazing over. "You all know to much. But especially Dawn." Lawrence burned a stare into her. "If not for you, spilling your secrets wherever you go, Olivia wouldn't have known I was the one to imprison Conan. She wouldn't have leaked it all to some journalist. She wouldn't be dead."

Kamila stood close enough for Alex to hear her draw in a sharp breath.

"You're the one who ruined everything, you selfish brat!" Dawn screamed, firsts bunched in her bulky jacket. "You're the one who stole mother from Conan, and made him seem like the bad guy."

"Shut up!" Lawrence hissed. "This is exactly why—"

"No." Dawn burst in, breathing fast, eyes flaring. "I'm not going to be quiet any more."

Lawrence jerked his wrist up, so fast it made a popping sound. A bang rang out in the dead-silent night, followed by a scream from Dawn.

"Alex! Oh god—your shoulder! It's bleeding. Alex, you idiot, why did you do that?" Dawn alternated with shrieking and sobbing.

Alex staggered, clutching his throbbing shoulder, slippery with warm blood. He wheezed, "You're my sister. How could I not?" He grunted when the explosion of pain in his shoulder registered in his mind, with such intensity that the air was knocked out of his lungs.

Dawn, blinking back tears, dropped to her knees beside him and began ripping her shirt. "Keep a hand over the wound," she instructed, the logical one as always.

Lawrence gaped and lowered his pistol. "You, you imbecile! That was meant for her,."

"Lawrence!" Kamila screeched,voice trembling with adrenaline. "What on earth..." She rushed forward, but Hudson wrapped his arm around her and held her back.
"Don't blow it," he murmured, eyes latched on Lawrence. "It's just a shoulder. Could've been worse."

"Let me get my cell," She hissed. "I'll call the ambulance and—"

Lawrence spoke, having heard Kamila's frenzied whispers, voice raising to a boom. "Dare move an and I'll shoot you. All of you."

"This ends here," Kamila fumed. "I'm calling the police."

Lawrence snapped the gun to her direction. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Run!" Alex blurted, his words choked with a heavy dose of pain. He knew there was no point of running; a bullet didn't wait for the bus. But at this point what else could they do, but attempt to get away from the psychopath intending to kill them all?

Through blurred eyes he saw Lawrence pull the trigger. As a shot went off, the silver gun glinted and whizzed through the air, pinging against the signboard that said Riverbend Street. All of a sudden Lawrence was gravitating, face first, to the ground. There was a sickening crunch of bone and flesh meeting the side walk, and Alex shivered. His nose had always been perfect.

Lawrence groaned in pain and began to roll over, but pale arms pinned him down.

"What the hell is this?" Lawrence rasped. Stripped of his dignity he stilled, cheek pressed against the grimy cement.

"I think you know who I am," a grave voice responded.

Alex stared slack-jawed at the man keeping Lawrence hostage. Damp, pale blonde hair hung limp around his face. Lean, muscular arms pressed Lawrence's shoulders against the ground. Crisp, newly washed clothes clung unto his frame.

"Conan." Lawrence bristled, his tone dropping notes.

A moment of silence, where one could hear a feather drop. And a stifled cry from Dawn. If Conan saw them, he pretended not to notice.

"Exactly," the slender man acknowledged in a tense voice. "That you have the audacity to hurt the innocent exceeds my intelligence, Mr. Brooke."

"Damn you, Conan!" Lawrence snarled. "If you're brave you'd let me have a swing at you. I'll bet you're weak after those years rotting in prison."

The man did not budge. "How about we strike a deal?" His voice was cool and controlled, unlike Lawrence, who was just itching to a scratch up the man's face. "We'll have a fist match. If I loose, we'll switch positions.

"What?"

Conan calmly explained. "I'll take custody of the kids. Your job. House. I'll can make it happen."

Alex felt his spine stiffen. That was a dangerous deal.

"You're making a death wish," Lawrence chuckled, low and sinister.

Conan gripped Lawrence's arms and yanked him up as he rose. In the commotion, no one had thought of retrieving Lawrence's pistol, which had skidded across the side-walk and under a bush. Now Lawrence made a leap for it. He whirled around and swept the weapon across his prey with a wicked smirk.

"Put that away," Conan objected. "Unless you're going to loose fighting with your bare hands. Unless you want to prove that you're a coward."

Tension crackled in the air like a live wire as the two men stared each other down. Through the corner of his eye, Alex saw Kamila begin to advance. Hudson grabbed her arm and she stopped.

"Fine." Lawrence said at last, flinging the pistol to the side with finality, away from all of them. It missed an open trash can by an inch.

Alex watched in wide-eyed fascination, the wild situation drawing his mind away from the pain throbbing in his shoulder. Conan, the blue-eyed man which was his father, had caused Lawrence to submit. He only hoped he knew what he was doing, and Alex hoped with all his heart he was, because Lawrence, sinister as he was, seemed to have something up his sleeve.