I didn’t know what to do. I took another step toward Stocks, but Wesley followed me.
“Stay back!” I shouted, waving the gun at him.
My arm was shaking, probably from holding the weapon outstretched for so long.
“Stocks,” I said, nudging him with my foot. “How you doing, buddy?”
Wesley leaped at me, scowling as his arms flailed for the gun.
I couldn’t let him get it. I fired. He grabbed my hands. I fired again. His face twisted in pain and his grip loosened. I fired again. He stumbled back, grabbing his chest, his expression disbelieving.
“You shot me.”
Multiple times, and I’d do it again. Still pointing the gun at him, I said, “I told you to stay back.”
Wesley crumpled to the floor. Blood seeped out of all three wounds, creating an abstract triangle in the middle of his chest. “You fucking bitch, you shot me.”
“Sorry, not sorry,” I whispered, still watching him.
His eyes closed, and his breathing grew ragged. He was gasping for air.
Keeping the gun in hand, and one eye on Wesley, I bent and checked Stocks for a pulse. Weak, but still there. I let out a sigh of relief.
Lights filled the street in front of the bookstore.
Someone pounded on the back door.
There was a loud crash, and then Havoc was there, his eyes wide and wild. “You okay?” he asked.
Unable to speak, I nodded. Yes. I was okay. Wesley was not. I kept the gun trained on the bastard just in case.
“It’s okay,” Havoc said. “Everything will be fine.”
“I wasn’t going to… Then he came at me, and… I had to. I’m not sorry.”
“I get it, babe. It’s okay.” He crouched and checked Stocks’s pulse. “I’m gonna need some clean rags, babe. Can you go get me some?”
I gestured at Wesley with the gun. “What about him?”
“Put the gun on the counter. I don’t think he’ll be getting back up, but if he does, I’ll take care of it.”
As I set the gun down, Havoc wrapped one arm around me, keeping the other hand pressed against Stocks’s stomach.
“It’ll be all right, babe,” he reassured me. “I’ve got you. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”
Tears were racing down my face. I let out another sob, and then straightened, needing to force the strength to get through this. “I already told you, Marcus, it was my job to put that bullet in his heart.”
The front door burst open and the police rushed in, shouting at us to put our hands in the air.
Havoc
Two months later
“YOU GOT THE rings?” Link asked me for the fifth time in as many minutes. I wanted to tell him to fuck off and carry his own goddamn rings. I had one job, did he really think I was going to fuck it up? Still, I understood that my friend was a wreck, and I couldn’t fault him for coming off like a paranoid foreman on his first job. Emily was his world, and he wanted to give her the wedding she was worthy of. As Link had said, he loved her, and would do anything for her. And I would do anything for Link, which explained why I found myself wearing a monkey suit for the second time this year, putting up with his crazy anxiety.
“Got ’em,” I said, patting one of the three things currently in my jacket pockets as I smiled to myself. Link would lose his shit if I gave him the wrong box.
“I’m sure he hasn’t lost the damn rings since the last time you asked, Prez,” Wasp added, as always, having a little fun at Link’s expense. “What’s wrong? You having second thoughts? Ready to hock the rings and head to Vegas? You’re not turning into a yellowbelly on us, are you?”
