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“You got sloppy,” Crow replied. “Kid you paid to vandalize the neighborhood ratted you out for a measly twenty bucks.”
Joey’s grip on me tightened. He swore under his breath.
“Let me guess. You kicked his ass six ways to Sunday.”
Crow shook his head. “I didn’t talk to him. Otherwise, yeah, he’d be pretty banged up. No one touched him. He talked of his own free will.”
Joey snorted. “I doubt that. You’re out here shooting at me while you talk about free will. You’re a big, damn bully.”
“You kidnapped my best friend’s daughter. And my lady. The gloves come off now. And I’m not the one shooting at you. He is.”
Crow held up his phone, showing a video feed of my father, spread out on his stomach with a sniper rifle in hand, ready to take the next shot.
“That’s Dani’s dad,” Crow said. “And he’s pissed.”
Joey scoffed but he shifted, giving away just how nervous he really was.
“If he pulls the trigger, so do I.”
I gasped at the sharp dig of a gun pressed to the back of my neck. Crow held up his hands in a placating gesture. Joey jerked me back inside, slamming the door.
“Shit. Shit!” he barked.
I flinched at his outburst. I didn’t say anything in case I aggravated him even more. Joey shoved me into the kitchen and into a nearby chair.
“Rico,” he said.
No response.
“Rico! Get in here!”
Silence.
Grumbling, Joey left the kitchen. I heard him stomping through the trailer for a full minute. My heart sped up and my breathing grew ragged. It was only a few short steps to the front door, to Crow. I could make a run for it.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I bolted. Darting out of the kitchen, the front door was right there. I flung myself toward it.
Then Joey came out of nowhere, locking an arm around my waist. We both hit the ground, his weight on top of me. I kicked beneath him, trying to get him off. He shoved the gun to my sternum.
“Do you think I won’t end you right here and now?” he demanded. “I don’t give a shit about the money. I want to see your dad suffer, along with every other rich fuck in that neighborhood. And killing you will do just that, sweetheart.”
I whimpered and went still. I tried to press myself into the carpet to get away from the gun but it didn’t work.
Joey hauled me to my feet, pushing me toward the room I’d been in before. He shoved me into the chair, tying my ankles again.
“Don’t move,” he said. “I’ll be back as soon as I get rid of your pain-in-the-ass boyfriend.”
I screamed as loud as I could until I broke off, coughing. A loud thud echoed in the house somewhere, followed by the sounds of scuffling. It came closer until I spotted Joey and Crow, locked in a fight. Joey had lost his gun but he was trying to make do with his switchblade.
Crow blocked a strike and countered by throwing his weight at Joey like a charging bull. He caught Joey around the middle and they fell out of sight.
Someone hissed with pain. A moment later, Joey shot past my room, limping, his face battered. He looked like he’d had the beating of a lifetime.
I waited, willing Crow to grab him.
Seconds ticked by, one after another. But Crow never came, and I didn’t hear him moving either.
Joey scrambled into the bathroom. The shatter of glass suggested he hadn’t bothered to worm his way out of the window and simply broken it to escape instead.
