“Where is he? I never asked you that.”
Ethan struggles with the blanket wrapped around him and pushes my hands away when I try to help.
“Remember that club last night, the one with the girls standing around outside?”
“Y’all went to Barely Legal? Those girls were disgusting.”
He shakes his head, then drops it in his hands like that small movement hurt too much. “No, we went to the place next door. The Blues Club.”
“You think he’s still there?”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll wait all night for us.”
Teeny finishes the sandwich and stands at the end of the bed, licking her fingers. “She got the gun from that guy, so at least there’s that.”
This makes him perk up. “Where is it? Are there any bullets left?”
Teeny digs it out of the potted plant and hands it to Ethan.
“Whoa,” he breathes out. “A Glock 26 9mm with a silencer.” He empties the chamber and there’re five bullets left. Studying one of the bullets, he lets out a soft whistle.
“What is it? Is there something weird about the bullets?”
“They’re subsonic.”
“What does that mean,” Teeny asks before I have a chance.
“It means the bullet travels slower than the speed of sound. Most bullets travel faster than the speed of sound and that loud ‘crack’ you hear is when the bullet breaks the sound barrier. With these bullets and a silencer, this gun is very quiet.”
“So that’s why no one on the street heard him shooting at us,” I add.
He looks at me and asks, “Yeah. How’d we get away from him? My brain is so fuzzy right now I can’t remember.”
“I knocked Mateo out with a beer bottle and when he fell, I picked up the gun and hid it in my jeans.”
His mouth is wide-open—obviously impressed. “Damn.”
For the first time today, a grin breaks out across my face.
He turns back to the gun and reloads it. He holds it out to me and I bury it back in the potted plant, then sit back near him on the bed.
“How do you know all that…about guns and bullets and the sound barrier?” Teeny asks.
Ethan shrugs then winces from the pain of the movement. “I’ve been around guns all my life. My grandpa loved collecting them.”
“I found out a little more from Tyler,” I say. “He and Thomas have the same mom but not the same dad. Tyler said he didn’t meet Thomas until their mom died when he was ten. Thomas took care of him.”
Ethan leans back against the bed and just watches me so I keep talking.
“Tyler said Thomas has worked for Vega since he was a kid. Worked his way up and does the same job his dad used to do.”
I’m rambling but I can’t help it. Ethan looks at me funny and it’s making me nervous.
“But anyway, I didn’t get specific plans. Just, you know, background kind of stuff.”
“I hope you found out his favorite color and shoe size, too.” The sarcasm is not lost on me.
“And you’re pissed again. That’s great.”
