I slow blink, thinking of the guy who had begged for his life. The guy who had cried. My throat tightens with the memory. “You could be lying.”
“How the hell would any of my guys know where you were at in order to shoot you? And even better—why would I go after Mozart’s daughter? He may be in prison, but when it comes down to it, he still has reach.”
I don’t know if Dad still does or doesn’t, but I remain silent on that. “You were following me. It’s why I went into the alley.”
“With Linus in tow and then you two disappeared and we started getting fired upon.”
“My side wouldn’t take a shot at me.”
“Well then, you’ve got a problem because I didn’t shoot you.” Eric looks me straight in the eye and his body language backs up everything he says. “I didn’t order anyone to shoot you, none of my guys shot you, and you don’t have a traitor in your mix—at least not the kind you need to be worried about. What you do need to be fretting over? Figuring out who in Ricky’s crew has it out for you, why, and how deep the betrayal goes.”
“Why go after me now? Why help me at all?”
Eric stays silent, never breaking his connection with me. He works his jaw for a moment then says, “How well do you know your boy Tommy?”
Tommy was there...Tommy was hurt...Tommy is the one person Linus would have trusted to tell where I was at... “What happened to Tommy tonight?”
“He ran,” Eric states. “In the opposite direction of you. Makes you wonder where he was leading you since you two were pleasantly alone. Just my opinion, but you’re Linus and Ricky’s pet and they love having you around. Must suck for Tommy to be second-best all the time.”
Must suck, indeed.
“Way I see it, you’ve got two options to survive. You disappear and never come back or you figure out who’s true to you in your family and then ask Ricky to clean house. But you need to know, Tommy’s been spreading rumors about you—saying the shot cracked you mentally. You go to Ricky on Tommy, is Ricky going to believe you haven’t melted down?”
“You’re playing me,” I say. “Trying to make me question my own side.”
“You saved me once, and now I’ve saved you. We’re even and what happens to you after this isn’t my concern. Anyhow, good luck. You’re going to need it.”
Eric closes the door to the back of the car and when he opens the front passenger side, I ask, “Let’s say any of this bullshit is true, what do you want out of this?”
Because even though Eric claims that this is to repay a debt, I know Eric better than that. He’s not that good of a human being.
That sly smile that’s all Eric slides across his face. “Since you asked, I’d appreciate it if you mentioned to your daddy that I saved your ass and then tell him thank you.”
“For what?”
“He’ll know. Take care, Abby. It’d be a waste if you really did die.” And with those parting words, Eric eases into the car. His bodyguard does the same and the taillights glow red as they drive away.
Logan
The sound of a cell buzzing causes me to stir out of a dream. I roll over in the sleeping bag, grab my cell and read Ryan’s message: Just stopped for groceries. We’ll be there in twenty.
Several more messages are below Ryan’s and I must have been dead to the world not to hear my cell. I scroll through and pause long enough to check out the ones from Mom and Dad. Both are sorry how we left things at the hospital. Both want me to text when I make it to Chris’s grandfather’s farm.
Dad thought I woke up early before he got home and left. I did go home last night, not to sleep but to pack. Abby fell asleep in the backseat and that gave me a good opportunity to leave Isaiah in the car with her and pack without prying eyes.
Group text to both Mom and Dad: I’m here
Dad responds back individually: You’ll need to test more often
Me: Will do
Dad: I’m sorry
I sigh. Me, too
Sorry because he’s disappointed in me or sorry because I said things I can’t take back or sorry because I don’t know if anything he said is right—I have no idea, but overall, I am sorry. Fighting with Dad doesn’t make me feel good.
Mom responds back to both me and Dad: Be safe. I love you.
Me: I will and you too.
Isaiah flips in his sleeping bag then rubs a hand over his shaved head. “This place have a bathroom?”
I point to the two closed doors. “The one on the right. Don’t shove too much toilet paper down—this place is on an ancient septic system.”
“Great,” he mutters as he stands. He closes the bathroom door behind him and Abby peels her groggy lids open. I hate how she looks—pale, dark circles under her eyes, just plain exhausted and sick.
She didn’t say much after Eric left and I don’t blame her. Eric could be right or he could be feeding her lies. Either way, it’s not a good position to be in.
“Ryan and everyone else will be here soon,” I say, and Abby sits up, her body sagging against the back of the couch she slept on. She gathers her long dark hair away from her face and appears small and young. “We’ll set up an air mattress for you in the bedroom tonight.”
“Explain to me where we are and what we’re doing again.” Abby’s voice is cracked as if she hadn’t used it in years. She glances around the small rustic cabin that has no electricity, possibly wondering if last night was a dream. God knows I’m questioning our current reality.