Page 111 of Kings Don't Break
Minutes pass to no answer.
But I do get a slew of texts from somebody else. Probably one of the last people I cared to hear from.
Cash… we need to talk. There’s something I have to tell you…
Please answer… I feel terrible about it…
It’s something you’ll want to know. Cash text me back!
I’m too focused on hearing from Korine to bother replying to any of Janessa’s stupid messages.
I’ve ridden off on my Street Bob, outgunning lights and cutting off traffic. Every other street, I glance at my phone to see if Korine’s replied. The last time she stopped responding she’d been pulled over on the side of the road by that piece of shit. If he’s gone anywhere near her, I swear I’ll rip out his intestines with my bare hands. I’ll fucking choke him out with them…
Violent thoughts fester ’til they’re immersive daydreams that distract me from reality. I’ve pulled up outside Korine’s apartment complex without realizing it. I dismount and start for her apartment.
The parking lot’s far from empty. Several residents have gathered to chat among themselves. Each of them wears an expression of concern, like they’ve witnessed something troubling. I don’t give much of a damn considering I’m here for Korine only.
But one of them, a middle-aged woman that lives on the same floor as Korine and Sunny and who I’ve seen in passing before, calls out to me.
“You’re the boyfriend, right?”
I stop short, throwing a look over in her direction. “There a reason you’re asking?”
“You just missed it,” she answers. “The ambulance. It came and took the mother. She had some kind of stroke. The daughter was nowhere to be found. Nobody could get a hold of her.”
The lady’s words reverberate ten times louder than they are. I freeze for a split second to process them, taking in their meaning, before the thin string keeping me civilized snaps. She calls after me as I break out in a run toward my bike. I don’t bother with any of my gear, don’t even fucking bother checking around me, slamming on the gas.
Several of the residents shriek as I streak through the parking lot with no warning. Right hand on the handlebar to steer myself, my left grips my cell. If she didn’t answer her texts before, I don’t expect her to answer her phone, yet I call anyway.
I try ’cuz I’m spiraling down a dark tunnel I won’t be able to pull myself out of anytime soon. Someplace where only blood and violence exists with no consideration for consequence. My gut tells me all I need to know—Stricklin’s behind this.
The call rings three times with no answer. I’m about to hang up when somebody answers on the fourth.
“Kori!” I shout over the rush of the wind. “Where are you? Your mother’s had a stroke?—”
“Kor can’t answer the phone right now,” Stricklin interrupts, his tone cool. Threaded with a hint of sick glee. “But I thought I’d let you know she’s with me. Where she belongs.”
“You fucking piece of shit!”
“Interesting. Because I’d say the only piece of shit here is you. The trash that tried to take my wife from me.”
“She wants nothing to do with you.”
“It’s never mattered what she wants. She made a vow ’til death. I’m holding her to that,” he replies. “I told her she wouldn’t get away—but if you really think she belongs to you, then you should come. Try to take her from me. Isn’t that what you were going to do anyway?”
I glare at the road up ahead, the scenery whizzing by. “You’re a fucking dead man.”
“We’ll see about that. It’s about time we handle this. Come alone.”
The line clicks before it goes dead, and I’m roaring louder than the beastly rumble from my engine. I gun it, barreling down the road, straight for Stricklin’s.
To end this once and for all.
27
KORINE
Ken drives us home in a silence that’s as suffocating as it is disturbing. We sit still, by all outside appearances, calm and composed. On the inside it couldn’t be more of a different story. My throat’s closing up, my thoughts a scattered mess of concerns about Mama and dread over where this moment is going.
