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For the first time, I smile. “Now you’re speakin’ my type of language.”
“Let’s just be cool. Bullets can be traced,” he reminds me. “Even self-defense is gonna require jail time. Just remember that. When we get Aspyn back, she’s not gonna want to visit you in a prison cell. Can fuck him up without killin’ him.”
Even though I’ve not had a real conversation with my brother about her, it’s clear he knows what’s going on. You don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to see it if you look hard enough.
Ignoring Rodeo and Pipes, who’s stirring and mumbling, I lower my voice. “Don’t know what I’m capable of after last night. You processed it yet?”
He shakes his head. “Maybe I never will.”
Touche.
I keep driving and relief floods me when we see the parked car. They're still ahead of us, though, and anything could’ve happened to my girl.
I don’t like the fact they’ve driven to the edge of the Mississippi River.
A cold panic blankets me when I think about what could’ve happened in that car.
Aspyn never saw it coming.
Even though her friend had her own fair share of shortcomings, Aspyn was too nice to let her go. I wonder how long this obsessive behavior has been going on. Probably years, by the looks of things. Aspyn had told me they had an on again, off again friendship.
No wonder she hated me getting in the way. It all makes sense now.
We park, then hop out of the truck, leaving Pipes to sleep it off.
“Not splittin’ up,” Jett tells me.
“Hate it when they do that in the movies,” Rodeo pipes up as we turn to shoot him a glare.
“Keep your eyes and ears open,” Iwhisper-shout. With any luck, they didn’t see us tail-gaiting, and I hope to hell that this is the car and we haven’t just followed some tourist here to take some happy snaps.
We pull out our guns one after the other. Cash said not to shoot, but you can still fire and not kill someone. Not that he’d know that.
Images of Cash putting a bullet in Salerno’s brain will haunt me for the rest of my time.
It sucks the asshole didn’t have time to suffer, and by now I’m sure that the mafiosos are well aware of what’s taken place, setting Forger and the Devils up to take the heat.
“Fuck,” Jett whispers. “They’re down by the scrub.”
Along this part of the river, where the tourists don’t go, it’s a breeding ground for seedy shit.
Looks like Tara and her little friend know what they’re doing, but what is their plan?
We follow down a small path, leading farther into the scrub. The wind picks up as Rodeo hangs behind.
When we spot them, Tara doesn’t even try to hide. “I knew you’d come,” she says. She almost sounds cheerful about it and not at all surprised.
“What the fuck are you doin’?” I call out, holding my gun pointed at her, even though her accomplice is pointing one at me. “Tara!”
Jett follows suit, aiming his gun. “Don’t move, asshole.”
“The way I see it is one of you dies,” Tara says, eerily calm. She’s holding a small gun, pointed toward Aspyn. “I wonder how one twin brother would do without the other. Aspyn told me how close you are.”
Did I never notice how evil her tone is? How evil she is?
Aspyn is conscious but sprawled on the ground. Drugged, it seems. The thought of that makes me nauseous.
I crack my neck. I know that if I shot this bitch right now, there’s no way I’d feel guilty about it. Even though I’ve never killed a woman before.
