“Well now, you know how I feel about witnesses.” I throw my hand out in annoyance with a sigh and turn on my heel. “You just always have to complicate things, don’t you? Selfish, really. No wonder you don’t have any friends to bail you out of your messes.”
I step outside onto the porch, eyeing the pile of scrap I spotted on my way up and shimmy a rusted, metal rod out. I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten tetanus just touching the old thing, but sacrifices must be made for the greater good, and all that jazz.
Thomas is still sitting in his puddle of blood, smart enough not to make a break for it. Without preamble, I prod at the bullet wound in his thigh with the metal rod, the large man finally succumbing to tears. With a harsh thrust, I jam it through his thigh and out the other side, disappointed it wasn’t sharper so that I could pin him to the floor. The bloody dime clatters to the floor, but his lucky penny is still wedged inside and I snort.
“Fucking asshole!” He curls his fingers around the rod, unable to jerk it free without howling in pain. It’s long enough that there’s no way he’ll be able to easily walk without the weight of one side pulling the wound open even further.
“Now, Thomas, you’re going to hurt my feelings if you continue with the name calling.” I use my middle finger to pull my bottom lip down in a pout, flipping him off simultaneously.
“Wait, just,” he starts, scrambling for something to save his sorry hide. “How about a trade?”
Leveling him with a withering look, I scoff. “What could you possibly have to bargain with? We’ve taken everything over the years besides this pathetic shack.”
His eyes light up with malicious satisfaction and disgust instantly pools in my stomach. “My daughter. Leave me my land and take her to clear my debt instead.”
I spit on the ground at his feet, hatred simmering in my veins. “We don’t deal with human trafficking. What kind of bastard would sell off his own kid?”
He plows on, rushing out the words. “Not a kid, she’s grown. Just as much of a slut as her momma was too. I’m sure you could find some use for her.”
My vision blurs red, striding over and kicking the rod protruding from his leg. He screams and curses, but it’s not nearly enough. I put another bullet in his shoulder, crouching down and jamming my thumb inside of the wound. Slowly, I twist it, holding his stare the entire time with a tightly clenched jaw.
“Or I could kill you now and take everything.”
He gasps, words coming out in shallow pants. “I’m worth more alive than dead.” I scoff at the ludicrous notion, but he presses on. “There’s someone sniffing around one of your businesses, planning to make a move. You kill me, you won’t know who or where and Julian will be livid.”
I weigh my options, but know he’s right. Julian goes down, we all sink with him. I smack his injured shoulder as I get up. “Stay put. I’d hate to have to chase you.”
Sidestepping the growing puddle of blood, I head up the stairs and straight for the only closed door. Gently, I rap my knuckles on the faded wood.
“I’m not gonna kill ‘ya, so make this easier on everyone and open up, alright?”
There’s a pause before a soft voice responds, “That sounds exactly like something a person would say before they murdered someone.”
I huff out an amused breath. “Fair point. But you know this can only end one of two ways, and I’d hate to have to smoke you out of the house; it’d likely go up like a match. So unless you want to take your chances jumping from the second floor window and getting away before I can meet you down there, may as well face your maker with a little dignity.”
Several minutes pass while I wonder if she’s actually going to try climbing onto the roof or jumping, but then there’s the sound of furniture being dragged away from the door. It creaks open and her face appears in the narrow gap, bruised and swollen. That right there seals her fate and I mentally curse, knowing Julian is going to have my ass.
Backing up across the hallway, I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall to give her some space. “And what would your name be?”
No one can say I’m not a gentleman when I need to be. A son of a bitch, sure, but even I know how to treat a lady. What kind of jackass beats the hell out of his own daughter?
Her eyes flick around the hallway nervously, expecting a trap. “Elysium Miller.”
The door creaks open a bit wider, giving me my first solid look at the girl. Early twenties I’d bet, with long blonde hair matted with dried blood. Half of her face is a bruised mess between the swollen cheek and scrapes, and by how tightly she’s white knuckling the door, I’d imagine she’s using it for support as much as letting the pressure ground her, suppressing her fear.
Not many people bother when they look at me, their false courage easily transparent. But this waif of a girl isn’t bullshitting; bet she’d get a few good swings in before I killed her, despite knowing she didn’t stand a real chance. Even beaten to hell and sad acceptance radiating off of her, there’s still a faint spark of hatred left in her eyes, not quite snuffed out yet. Hopeless, sure, but wanting to get a good shot in out of spite if she’s going down anyway.
She’s perfect.
“And how old are you, Elysium?” I try to keep my anger in check, but the words still come out as a harsh demand.
She hesitates. “What does it matter? You’re just going to kill me, right?” She swallows, standing a bit straighter. “If you’re worried about me turning you in for killing my father, I promise I won’t say a word. Everyone’s going to blame me for it anyway, so I’m better off staying off the police’s radar. Let me go, and I promise I won’t stop running until there’s no way they can find me, they’ll never find out you were involved,” she rushes, her speech bordering on desperation by the time I raise a hand to cut her off.
Kicking off from the wall, I take a step closer, making a show of stowing my gun and keeping my bloody fingers splayed open in surrender. “He’s not dead, just maimed a bit.”
She does this odd combination of sagging with defeat while also getting keyed up with adrenaline. Her anxious gaze cuts towards the stairs as hopelessness radiates off of her in waves tangible enough to choke me. I grind my teeth, knowing she’s imagining how he’s going to take this out on her the second I leave.
“Look, I’m going to level with you.” Her eyes flit back to my face, a haunted, gold-flecked amber. “He owes my boss a hell of a lot of money. So I came to send a message and take the property.” She doesn’t look surprised in the slightest. If anything, more relaxed to know there’s a reason and this isn’t just a robbery gone awry. That is, until I add, “But he offered you up instead to pay his debt.”
