Page 65 of Property of Whiskey

“That was a joke.”

“Mine wasn’t.”

I stop smiling.

Bullet parks.

Whiskey opens the rear doors, and cooler air spills into the van.

Kaylee stirs.

Bullet comes around immediately and climbs inside, lowering himself beside her.

“Hey, Kaylee.”

Her eyes open.

“We’re splitting up.”

Her face tightens.

Whiskey sees it.

“Bullet’s taking you somewhere safe.”

Kaylee looks toward me.

I lean forward. “Where?”

Whiskey answers before Bullet can.

“Clubhouse.”

I glare at him.

Bullet ignores both of us. “We got somebody there who can look at that wound, and nobody’s getting near you without going through us.”

Kaylee studies him for a long moment.

Then whispers, “Okay.”

I turn toward her. “Kaylee, you don’t have to go with them.”

Her eyes find mine.

“I don’t wanna go back.”

“You’re not going back.”

“I don’t want police.”

A tightness forms beneath my ribs. “We can work that out.”

She shakes her head.

“No.”

Whiskey looks at me. Just watching while a missing woman refuses the very system I’m part of.