He’s loaded that motherfucker.
I keep my back firmly pressed into the wall like that’s gonna change anything. The door is unlocked, but it’s best not to make any sudden movements. I’m in the middle of nowhere, and the stalker has the keys to the Chevy. And my freedom as a result.
“I know that it doesn’t quite equate to two hundred thousand dollars, but take her.” My father’s devil eyes flick over to me. “It’s a start.”
Anger and sadness tear open my chest.
I really do mean jack shit to him.
But this is exactly what I always needed to hear.
The creaking floorboards add to the suspense as the stalker turns around to give me an ugly glance up and down. It’s like I’m being sized up by a snake that’s debating whether I’d make a good meal—for him, or for one of his friends back in Boston.
All I can do is death-glare my father and hope the message conveys that I want him dead. I’m certain of that now. This freak is no father of mine.
“What an interesting offer to make,” says the man. “Your daughter has been trying to keep your location secret from me, and you want her sold. Where on earth did your daughter inherit her heart from, Phil?”
“Don’t call me that,” he grits.
I search my father’s eyes, waiting to see them change. But he doesn’t seem to care about anything other than this debt. The stalker has basically just told him that I’m innocent, that I’ve been protecting his ass, and he’sstilloffering to sell me.
“You’ll regret this decision in a week,” I tell my father. “Who’s gonna drag you out of the gutter the next time you get caught up in shit?” I hitch an eyebrow up at him. “I suppose you’ll have to pay someone to come and rescue you.”
The hitman interrupts. “Selling your daughter over to me, or my client, will not be an equal trade.” He steps forward and cocks his gun. His finger is now on the trigger, and the end of the shotgun is one single inch away from reaching my father’s temple.
I hold my breath. Everything in my body feels like it’s on fire. My pulse, my nerves. For all I know, this guy could be more unpredictable than my father and shoot me instead…or after he kills his first opponent.
After all, Caleb is the reason he’s now walking around with a black eye. And since Caleb and I come under one bracket in his eyes, I could be paying for the consequences of his actions.
“Let’s get this over with, shall we? One thing to know about me is that I like to make my punishment slow. That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
He pulls the trigger.
BAM!
I hear the shell of the bullet clinking to the ground, and my father yelping out for mercy. I don’t think the hitman will begiving him that anytime soon, seeing as the gun is back in its original position, being aimed at my father’s other thigh.
Somehow, the walls of this place still remain intact.
I can feel the effects of the gunshot working through me, shaking the very membrane of my bones. I try for a breath, but I can’t get any air in my throat.
That’s because I’m holding my breath, waiting for the second gunshot.
Or because gallons of blood are dripping from my father’s thigh.
I thought I was good with blood when it’s not my own. Now I realize I could never work in the emergency room. This is a bloodbath.
Now would be a good time for me to leave, while the hitman is distracted, but I fear I’ll pass out before I make it back outside.
There is no difference between my head and a helium balloon, and the terror inside of me is all-consuming. I can’t move, can’t think. My body has forced me to simply stare, almost as if itwantsto see my father bleed to death.
The second gunshot is worse than the first, and terrorizes me even more. I shut my eyes.
Don’t fall.
Keep your back pressed into the wall.
The hitman cackles away to himself. “Let’s see you try and run away from responsibility now, Philly.”
