Page 147 of Save Me

They look like idiots as they stare at one another, presumably one waiting for the other to talk.

“This is loaded, and I don’t have much patience. Someone start talking if you want to keep breathing.”

They share a stare-off, and the shorter of the two’s face hardens.

“We’re not saying shit,” he spits at me.

At the same time, the larger one lunges for me. He’s too slow, though. I immediately strike his temple with the butt of my gun. He doesn’t go down entirely, but he’s dazed and holding his head.

For pissing me off, I hit him again. The second blow sends him to his knees. I put the gun to his temple and look at his friend.

He stares at me with wide eyes, hands held up.

“Who the fuck sent you?”

“I-I don’t know,” he stutters.

He jumps back, almost falling when I aim the gun at him. “Honestly, man, we don’t know. Tell him, Larry.”

The bigger one, still on his knees, grunts. “We got a call,” he claims, still holding his head.

“A call from who?”

“Someone we used to work with. They just said we needed to meet some bitch— oof!”

The larger one drops to the ground after I crack his jaw with my gun again.

I turn to the one still standing. “Your friend’s taking a nap, it seems.”

He looks from me to his unconscious friend and back to me.

“Why don’t you finish the fucking story for him. And be careful about who you call a bitch.”

His eyes almost bug out of his head, but he finishes the story.

These two were drivers for the chauffeur company Blackmon uses when he’s in town.

“We d-do some s-side business for him s-sometimes,” the guy stutters as he admits this. “Last night, I got a call saying to meet this woman here. Some reporter chick. He wanted us to bring her to him.”

“Where?” I demand, shoving my gun to the bastard’s forehead.

“I-I don’t know. We were going to get more information once we got her. That’s all I know. I-I swear.”

I stare into his eyes. He looks like he’s telling the truth, but I still see red, the idea of these two fuckers laying a finger on Kennedy sending me into a fury.

Before I know it, my fist connects with the second bastard’s jaw. The cracking of bone doesn’t stop me from hitting him again.

I go to strike a third time when a voice behind me stops me.

“Williamsport Police. Put your hands up now!”

CHAPTER 42

Kennedy

“Nothing is what it seems,” his voice says.

It’s familiar but so full of pain and dread that I can’t place it.

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