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“You gave me a stolen car, for fuck’s sake.” I can’t hold it in any more, gun or not. “You got arrested because you had a warrant, and I spent so much damn time being angry at the wrong people, when I should have held you responsible, but I was afraid to do that. Because holding you responsible meant taking a closer look at myself. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to admit that you are who you are. But I am now.”
Billy gulps. The neck of his sweatshirt is wet.
“Did you do that to yourself?” I ask, pointing at his face.
He doesn’t answer.
I’m trying to stall so that I can think of a way out of this. Savage is outside. If I yell loud enough, will he hear me?
I can’t let this go on any longer. Not the lies I’ve told myself or the way I’ve helped him escape responsibility. Billy has to look himself in the mirror like I’ve had to.
Jesse, please.
But he thinks I’m safe.
I’ve got to figure this out.
“Answer me, Billy.”
“Yes,” he says. “I did it myself. Stop changing the subject. Are you going to sell the diner or not?”
“Are you going to shoot me if I don’t?”
“Who did you leave the diner to in your will?”
Shit.
“To my husband,” I lie. “I recently had my will altered so that he’ll get control of it when I pass.”
“Are you kidding me with that?” Billy snaps. “I’m your own flesh and blood. And you’re going to leave it to the guy who arrested me, who?—”
“Jesse would never hurt me,” I say, and my stomach twists. “But you would. So I don’t think that flesh and blood is up for debate. Are you going to shoot me, Billy?”
My brother trembles. His finger inches toward the trigger.
“If you don’t give me money, I’ll have to.”
“Help!” I scream as loud as I can. “Savage, help!”
I dive down, hoping that it will be enough in case he fires. If I can get behind the sofa, I can at least take cover until?—
A bang sounds out, and I look up, sure that I’ve been shot.
But no, the front door of the house is open, and Jesse charges into the room, gun at the ready. Billy turns, and there’s apopthat chills me to the core.
Forty
JESSE
The shot hitsme in the solar plexus, and I lose my breath. Pain threads through my stomach, and I stumble, bringing my gun up.
“Motherfucker,” I wheeze, aiming the weapon at Billy. “Drop your—” But I don’t have enough air to say the words.
Marci screams from the floor. My ears ring.
Billy drops his gun and clutches the sides of his head, eyes wide, horrified.
Savage blows past me and tackles him to the ground.
