Page 46 of Married With Lies

Ten seconds later I’m back behind the wheel and zooming away in the opposite direction. After a few miles of bumpy backroad navigation I find the highway entrance and place a call to Vinny.

“Ran into some trouble,” I say and give him a rundown of the last ten minutes.

“Holy shit,” he says. “How bad are you?”

“It’s nothing.” I feel the area through my shirt with one hand and grit my teeth when my fingers touch the entrance wound. “But this will require some cleanup. More than I can arrange from here.”

“Understood. Want me to call the boss to set things in motion?”

“I’ll do it. Stand by in case you need to drive out here in a hurry.”

“Will do.”

My uncle knows that I don’t interrupt his sleep unless it’s important. Richie Amato’s best quality is that nothing surprises him. He’s also quick to make decisions. He decides to call his Phoenix connections. He’s confident they’ll apply enough pressure to local law enforcement and grease enough palms to make the story disappear. The public will hear that the heroic gas station clerk was mortally wounded but managed to put down his attackers before succumbing to his wounds. The guy will be a hero. Everybody wins. Sort of.

“How bad’s the cut?” Richie asks.

I’ve hardly had a chance to think about it. Now I look down at the ugly blossom of red on my shirt and try to assess the damage.

“Small caliber. Clean entry and exit below the ribs. It doesn’t feel too nice but I’m not coughing up blood and it’s leaking a little less. I’ll just keep driving to Santa Fe and get stitched up there. Baines will cooperate with whatever we tell him.”

“Nah, he’s not the most dependable bastard. Are you all right to stay on the road for a few hundred miles?”

“I can do that.”

“Good. Go to your wife’s place.”

Fuck.

I should have known that would be his next suggestion.

“I’d rather not involve her.”

“Involve her? She’s your fucking wife. She’s involved. Just get there and I’ll arrange to get you patched up. Got it?”

There’s really no way I can refuse. It’s far too late to turn back and face the music. Anyway, Richie is not asking for my input and I have no plausible explanation as to why I wouldn’t want to go see my wife.

“Okay. I’ll head to Sadie’s ranch. I’m guessing I’ll make it there around daybreak.”

“Drive straight through. Don’t interact with anyone.”

“Got it. Sorry about all the hassle. Can’t believe I walked into this.”

My uncle’s voice softens. “No hassle, Carmine. This is what family is for.”

I want to gag. “Right. I’ll let you know when I get there.”

“Take it easy, kid.”

Richie kills the connection and I recalibrate my destination for Bright Hearts Ranch in Sleepy Rock, Colorado. Then I pull over to the side of the highway to inspect my wound more carefully.

It’s still leaking from both the front and the back but the drip is nothing lethal. Aside from the fact that I could use a hefty dose of painkillers I don’t feel too wrecked. With a few muttered curses, I raid the trunk and grab a couple of rolled up pairs of socks from my bag to apply pressure to the wound. At least the bullet sailed through cleanly. With any luck there’s no permanent damage.

Shaking off a fleeting spell of dizziness, I ease back onto the highway, careful to keep my speed reasonable. Getting pulled over right now wouldn’t be fun.

For a while I switch back to the podcast to keep me company. Then I decide that listening to people fret over the end of the world isn’t exactly the kind of energy I need right now. I switch to a podcast about Artificial Intelligence. That turns out to be terrifying in a different way but I don’t feel like hunting for something new so I leave it on as the dark miles tick by, each one bringing me closer to Sadie.

I’m starting to feel rotten about shocking her without so much as a texted warning. Then again, what could I possibly say?

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