“What did he say?”
“Not much. You know he doesn’t like talkin’ on the phone much.”
“Right. Because somebody could be listening.”
“After this shit, yeah, they just might be.” Mickey found his shirt and put it on. “We killed eight of those bastards at the plant, maybe two more. The news is gonna be all over this shit now, and the cops are gonna start digging in. It’s gonna get fucked up.”
“It’s already fucked up.” Roger scoffed, taking a final puff of his cigarette and putting it out on the arm of the sofa. “Crybaby’s probably dead, and that little snake Duncan ran off. He might be dead too.”
“If he’s not, I’m kicking his little ass.”
Mickey knew Duncan wasn’t a particularly brave man. He hated that he wasn’t surprised at all by Duncan’s sudden retreat, but it still pissed him off. They were supposed to be partners through thick and thin, not run away like a damn chicken when the other one was literally about to be pumped full of lead.
“Not if I beat you to it.” Roger smiled, but it was strained. He ducked his head down, cradling his head in his hands and pulling at his hair. His smile had faded and his shoulders shook with a quiet sob. “Fuck, it just can’t be… I can’t… I can’t believe she’s fuckin’ dead.”
“Don’t you worry about that now,” Mickey said firmly. “We’ll get this shit figured out. God help whoever fucked us over because I will personally introduce that bastard to a grand tour of their lower intestinal tract.”
“Sweet talker.” Roger barked out a short laugh, teary-eyed as he grinned up at Mickey.
“The fuckin’ sweetest.” Mickey smiled and offered his hand to help Roger stand. “Come on. Get your clothes on. We gotta grab a ride. We can talk about all the fucked up ways we’re gonna kill Salvatore when we find him, on the way over.”
“Damn.” Roger laughed again, wiping off his face and taking Mickey’s hand. “Here I was thinkin’ you’re a fuckin’ idiot, and then you go and have a genius idea like that.”
“Ha! Just shows what you know, ya fuckin’ dumbass.” Mickey tapped the side of his head. “I got plenty of good ones up in here.”
“Mmm, any real nasty ones rolling around in there?”
“You’ve got no fuckin’ idea, baby.”
Chapter 12
One hot-wired car later, they were on their way to Alistair’s house.
“So, I’m thinking about starting out by pulling off Salvatore’s toenails with my teeth and spitting them into his mouth,” Roger said cheerfully. “What do you think?”
“I think you are fucking twisted, and that could work.”
“Don’t even get me started on what I’m gonna do to his dick.” Roger scoffed. “Fuck. I’m just… I don’t know what to fuckin’ do. How did this even fuckin’ happen?”
The rat.
Mickey didn’t know who, but someone had to have betrayed them.
Again.
“I don’t know, but Cold is gonna figure it out.”
“He’d fuckin’ better.”
“He will.”
“Yeah…” Roger sagged down into his seat. “I really hope so.”
When they stopped at a traffic light, Mickey tried dialing Duncan. The call went straight to voicemail. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong now?”
“Duncan isn’t answering his fuckin’ phone. It’s going right to voicemail.”
