“You give his hard-earned money to Harrison Heights sleazeball who likes to run mouth.”
Fucking Clyde.
We had a deal, damnit.
When my gaze darts to Finn, I find his nostrils flaring, his tongue rolling against his teeth like he can barely contain himself. I envision him twisting that pistol out of the guy’s hand behind him, lowering it to his gut, and emptying a round into it.
And then I’m back in my car, seeing the headlights flying toward me, wondering why the hell they aren’t slowing down. I’m there for the collision, floundering in my seat when the force of it is so powerful it lifts my car on its side. I’m dangling from my seat belt as it rolls multiple times and skids to a stop on its roof.
I’m in the ambulance again.
In the emergency room under the blinding lights.
In this bed when I open my eyes for the first time and find Violet.
Violet.
What I wouldn’t give to have her with me. To have her curled into my side with her beautiful eyes staring up at me.
I almost lost that. I wanted Mom’s house so badly that I turned to Clyde and trusted him even after he fed Mom all those drugs and continued to sneak them into the county jail for her. He killed my own mother, and I sought him out, made a deal with him, and trusted that he would follow through without putting a big red X on my back.
A sickness like I’ve never felt roils in my guts, traveling throughout my body until it’s everywhere. My lips flatten into a straight line. For the life of me, I can’t get words out. Everything slows down as this sense of dread filters through me and tunnel vision consumes me.
Finn must notice because he speaks for me. “What is it he wants?”
The Russian turns to look at him. “You speak for him now, yes?” he questions, the words rolling off his tongue.
Finn ignores the question. “What does Tommy want?”
The Russian breathes out. “Replace what your thieving hands took from him.”
“Okay, fine. He’ll pay it back,” Finn spits out, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. I imagine it isn’t so easy for the roles to be reversed. For him to be cornered like he used to do to me all the damn time.
“How much?” I eventually ask, my heart dropping three flights because here I am again, needing to pay someone money I don’t have. Only now it’s worse because I’m stuck in this goddamn bed and can’t do anything about it.
The Russian rattles off a number in the thousands. It’s money I don’t have, but then I remember all the fights I wonand the stash of money I collected from them. Relief floods my veins, but that money is at Mom’s house and who the hell knows if Clyde took it over by now.
Once again, I’m strung out on a line to dry.
Clyde will never let me back in to get it if I tell him there’s something there I need, let alone it being money. Hell, I didn’t even get the chance to pack any belongings because I ended up here instead.
“Mr. Tommy promises worse shape if money is not paid back.” The man holding a gun to Finn’s head lowers it. “Tomorrow.”
“That’s not enough time. If you haven’t noticed, I’m strapped to this bed. I can’t fucking walk without help.”
“Your problem. Not Mr. Tommy’s.”
They tuck their guns back where they can’t be seen and file out of the room like they didn’t just come in and flip tables.
Finn moves to the door as soon as they’re gone. “These doors don’t have fucking locks?”
There’s no point in locking it. They’d find their way back in regardless. I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this one. How I’m going to get them their money when all I have is under Clyde’s roof, a man who had no issue letting Tommy, his enemy, in on what I did just so he could brag and feel like the bigger man for all of a minute.
Did he not understand that his braggy nonsense would be atmyexpense? That he was lining a firing squad up in front of me when he clued Tommy in on our plan?
“I think they’re gone,” Finn says in an agitated tone when he opens the door to presumably check the hallway just to close it again. “I should cut that fuckers hand off for pressing that gun to my head and feed him his fucking fingers.”
I regard Finn with a look I can’t quite pinpoint. My head spins along with the rest of my body. The room swirls and twirls like one of those mind games that fuck with your eyes.
