It makes me wonder if he actually has bullets, and it has me feeling bold. Not only am I not going to let these two men steal Oz’s liquor, but this is the opportunity I needed to prove myself.Maybe I can subdue him and get in my truck and get the hell out of here quick enough that they can’t chase, I don’t see a car nearby.
“Give me those keys, boy,” Clint says and I take a few steps toward him, my hands in the air and the switchblade in my sleeve, the keys looped around my finger.
“I’m sure we can come to an agreement,” I say, getting a little closer to the man.
“Sure. The agreement being we take your shit and we let you live. You can walk all the way back to New Orleans.”
“Oz will retaliate,” I say.
Clint laughs. “We’re plannin’ on it,” he says, taking one hand off the gun, no longer holding it straight as he holds out his palm to take his keys.
“This could have ended differently,” I say, moving as fast as I can, smacking the gun to the side with my left hand, and sinking the switchblade into his kidney with my right. He nearly collapses on top of me. He goes for the gun, his fingertips nearly reaching for it when he goes limp underneath me.
I climb off him, grabbing the gun, and staring at him for a long moment. What have I done? I’m covered in blood as I grab the gun and my heart races in my chest.
“Oh, hell yeah. We’re about to have one fucking payday!” Dale screams from the back of the truck, startling me.
Clint’s dead on the side of the road, one press of my knife is all it took. My hand shakes as I open the chamber of the gun, It’s loaded, three bullets. He would’ve shot me, there’s no doubt about it. Knowing I was defending myself and Oz’s product doesn't make the realization of what I did any easier.
I hold the weight of the metal in my hand, knowing that if I let Dale leave I’ll be arrested or worse. Fuck, am I really going to do this?
I round the back of the vehicle. Dale is climbing out, a big ass grin on his face, until he sees me covered in blood. His face goes shock white, and he goes to hold his hands to surrender, but I don’t even give him the option. I fire the weapon; the kickback is fierce and my ears ring from the pop.
It was a clean shot, killing him instantly as blood pools beneath him, darkening the dirt. The sun beats down against my skin. I’m covered in sweat and blood as I look at the man I just killed. The second man I killed.
I should feel more, right?
My body is filled with adrenaline as I grab his ankles and drag his body into the nearby soybean field. It won’t offer much protection, but maybe enough for me to get back to town.
The only person I saw on my way here is Clement, and he won’t say shit. I just need to get to the warehouse and make sure no one sees me covered in blood.
I’m panting, overexerted as I nearly toss Dale into the field, only to have to do the same with Clint.
By the time I hide their bodies the best I can, I’m so tired I can barely stand. I’m filthy and thirsty as I get back into the driver’s seat and drive away from my crime with only one thought in my mind.
This could change everything, but at what cost?
I’ve been sitting in the same clothes I killed Dale and Clint with for the last five hours, tied to a chair. I thought when I arrived at the warehouse and told my tale to Eugene I’d be rewarded, honored for protecting Oz’s supply.
Now I’m wondering if I’ve just destroyed my whole life.
I’ve held my piss for a ridiculous amount of time and I smell so fucking bad I consider vomiting on myself.
My neck aches as it hangs low and I stare down at the warehouse floor, when suddenly and quietly, a pair of leather shoes is all I see. How didn’t I hear anyone walking in? The man grips my chin with his ice-cold fingers as he stares at me with a cool expression.
“Handsome this one. You killed those men who tried to steal from me?” he asks.
I admire him for a moment. His suit is crisp and expensive, his face harsh and stern as he digs his fingers in my cheeks.
“Yes, sir.”
“How did you do it?” he asks, not letting go of my face.
“I stabbed one with a switchblade and shot the other.”
“How did it feel?” he asks, his face getting closer to mine. He’s single-handedly the most intimidating person I’ve ever met.
“It felt good,” I say, feeling like I can’t lie to him, almost like I’m under some sort of hypnosis.
