Page 84 of Filthy Liar

“Hey!” Warren’s voice is sharp and loud and makes my feet move faster. “Someone fucking grab her.”

No, no, no, no. I’m not being grabbed again. Won’t happen.

I move my little legs faster, the soles of my shoes slipping and skidding in the greasy grossness. My heart is in my throat as the doorway gets closer and closer, each beat it makes bringing me closer to escape.

But as I reach the threshold, someone steps in my way, causing me to flail around as I try to stop and keep my balance. I’m forced to decide whether to shove them down and keep going, or turn the other direction.

The decision is taken out of my hands when a surprisingly strong hand snaps out to grip my arm, keeping me on my forward trajectory as they step past me to put themselves between me and the group plotting my demise. My body bounces to a stop against the door frame just in time to witness a scene that might be hilarious under different circumstances.

My beach day friend Sylvia surveys the scene in front of her, grey brows stitched together above her glasses. “I was expecting more people than this.” She frowns at Warren. “And you look way too young to qualify for this thing.”

Warren has stopped his chase in the face of this newly arrived witness, but his expression gives away his murderous intentions. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The Social Security Swingers meet-up.” She makes the claim without batting an eye. “This is the address that was on the invitation.” Sylvia pats the front pockets of her linen capris. “I know I brought it with me.” She reaches behind her back, continuing to search around. Her hand stops, but instead of an invitation, she pulls a pistol from her waistband, swings it toward Warren, and pulls the trigger, sending a bullet straight into his thigh.

He doesn’t react for a second, like he can’t believe what just happened.

Honestly, I can’t either.

But then he starts to howl, grabbing at the thigh now leaking blood at an alarming pace. “You fucking shot me.”

“That was an accident.” Sylvia’s lower lips pushes out in a pout. “I didn’t mean to shoot you in the leg.” She raises her gun again. “I meant to shoot you in the dick.” Her shoulders lift in a little shrug as her finger twitches on the trigger. “Probably should’ve picked a bigger target I guess.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

FYNN

"FUCKING HELL." THE second I hear a gun go off, I don't wait to see what else is going to happen, I just begin to run. I know this is Elaine’s specialty and I should trust her judgment, but I won't stand by, leaving my wife in harm's way.

The ramp leading from the dock to the boat bounces under my weight as I sprint up it. I race across the deck and to the doorway Sylvia passed through less than a minute ago, looking fecking excited about her job as a distraction.

Hopefully it didn't get her killed.

I won’t let myself consider the possibility it was someone else that bullet reached, yet I can barely breathe as I cut through the opening.

And immediately collide with a very soft, very familiar body. I don't look around. I don't pause. I don't hesitate. I wrap both arms around Valerie, press her tight to my chest and turn, going back the way I came as all hell breaks loose behind me.

That first shot is soon followed by shouts and a barrage of bullets that ping against the other side of the metal on my right.

"Stop." Valerie shoves at my shoulders, trying to wiggle away. "We need to get Sylvia."

"Christ." I spin again, angling Valerie as far from the opening as possible as I reach my arm in and swing around wildly. When it connects with a body, I simply grab and pull, dragging whomever I've caught out. Sylvia stumbles backward, trying to keep her balance, while stretching one arm in front of her, the pistol in her hand firing wildly.

"Stop bloody shooting." I manage to get her behind the metal wall and grab her the same way I grabbed Valerie, grateful both women are significantly shorter than me as I once again sprint away from the bloodbath happening at my back.

"This wasn't part of the plan." Sylvia wiggles around the same way Valerie did earlier, like she believes I'm going to let her go. "Put me down. I told that prick I was going to shoot him in the dick, and I'm going to."

I reach the ramp but don't slow, continuing my speedy path onto the dock before turning in the direction of my parked car. Valerie and Sylvia's feet bang against my shins, and I know I'll have a collection of bruises there tomorrow, but neither one of them is getting down until they are safely locked up, because I don't doubt Sylvia's intentions, and I don't doubt my wife's soft heart. Sylvia will run back in there, and my wife will follow her.

I reach the small gravel lot, unsurprised to see the lookout Elaine’s people relieved of his duty when we arrived is nowhere to be seen. He likely will never be seen again, and I don't fucking care. I never thought of myself as a bloodthirsty sort, but it seems I have only been missing the proper motivation.

The proper motivation being my wife in danger.

My car is the farthest away since I was the last to arrive, delegated to the rear because Elaine wanted to be sure everything was taken care of before I pulled in since I could offer little to no help in this whole mess.

But maybe that's not true. I do have her mother after all. That makes me feel less shitty about dragging her into this.

As I reach my car, I lower Valerie to the ground, pinning her against the door as I fumble with my fob. Once the locks disengage, I yank open the back door and stuff Sylvia's still flailing body inside. She tumbles into the seat and shoots me a dirty look. I point at her, giving her my most stern face. "Stay." Before she can argue I slam the door on her, closing her in.

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