Last to Die by James Grippando Page B

hundred.
    A hundred times a day? said Theo, scoffing. That your guess?
    Tatum took a swing, but Theo quickly stepped aside and popped Tatum with another head shot. Tatum stumbled but didn't go down.
    Theo allowed him to get his footing, just to keep things interesting. Try a hundred times a second, said Theo. That's how many times lightning strikes every day.
    They circled one another slowly, sizing things up, looking for an opening. Tatum came at him, but Theo beat him back with a numbing blow to the forehead.
    Here's the tricky part, said Theo, still dancing in the ring. How many people you think get killed by lightning?
    Tatum didn't answer. He seemed to be struggling just to stay focused.
    About fifty, said Theo, answering his own question. A year.
    Tatum staggered. That last blow to the forehead had been a direct hit. Theo said, Every second of every minute of every day, lightning strikes the earth a hundred times. But only a few people get a good, direct hit all year long. What does that tell you, Tatum?
    Stand still and I'll tell you. He took another swing. Whiff.
    When somebody says the chances of Theo Knight getting off death row, or chances of Tatum Knight staying out of prison, are about as good as getting hit by lightning, what does that tell you?
    He unleashed another combination, then backed away before Tatum could answer.
    What the hell are you jabbering about, Theo?
    Don't you get it? It's not that lightning don't strike. You just gotta be standing in the right place.
    You're talking shit.
    I'm talking about missed opportunities. There's all kinds of ways to miss opportunities. Ain't that right, Tatum?
    Tatum just grunted.
    You can blow them all by yourself, said Theo as he landed another punch, then pulled away quickly. Or sometimes you don't have to do anything at all. Opportunities just pass right by you. Because your older brother went ahead and fucked up everything for you.
    Theo could feel the old anger rising from within. With a flurry of punches he came straight at Tatum and pinned him on the ropes. He kept swinging, and Tatum could only curl up and defend.
    Enough! shouted Tatum.
    For an instant, it was as if they were no longer in the ring. They were on the street corner outside their aunt's apartment in Liberty City, and Theo was pounding on his brother for having hocked their aunt's wedding ring to buy some dope. Theo abandoned the boxing mode and wrestled his brother to the mat, locking Tatum's head in a two-handed hold that could have busted his neck. Theo spoke directly into his brother's ear in a low, angry whisper, so that no one could overhear. I vouched for you with Swyteck. I told him you didn't kill that woman.
    I didn't kill her.
    Don't lie to me!
    I'm not lying, man. I didn't kill her.
    Swyteck was like lightning for me, you understand? You think a guy like me gets off death row without Jack Swyteck? You think a guy like me gets anywheres at all without a friend like Swyteck?
    I hear you, okay?
    He shoved Tatum's face into the canvas. He'll help you, too, man. If you let him. But the last thing he needs is another scumbag client who lies to him.
    Theo tightened the headlock. His brother grimaced and said, No lies, I promise.
    I swear, bro. You lie and embarrass my friend - you blow this opportunity I'm giving you - I'll bust you wide open.
    I'm not lying.
    Did Sally Fenning hire you to kill her?
    She tried.
    Did you kill her?
    No. I didn't touch the bitch.
    Theo kneed him in the belly, then pushed him down to the canvas. She wasn't a bitch, he said as he walked to the ropes. She was a mother.
    Theo used his teeth to unlace his gloves, then pulled them off and tossed them into the plastic crate in the corner. He swatted the line of hanging punching bags on the way to the locker room, a boxing rhythm that matched his walk. At his locker, he dug out his cell phone and dialed Jack's number, catching his breath as the phone rang five times in his ear.
    Jacko, hey, it's me.
    What's going on?