Page 112 of Rest In Pieces

“We’re on our way. I have a rough idea where you are, but I want you to stay on the line with me, okay? I have Bluetooth in my helmet, so you can just keep talking, and I’ll keep riding until I find you.”

“Okay, Havoc. Should I have called an ambulance or the police? I didn’t know what to do.” I feel myself slipping back in time to the helpless teen who screamed for help until her throat bled.

“Is he breathing?”

“Yeah, I… I’ve got my fingers on his pulse. It’s strong and steady. I’m scared to let go in case it stops.”

“You’re doing good, Amity, really good. Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, forgetting he can’t see me. “No, I’m fine.”

“Alright, you just keep your fingers on his pulse. If anything changes—if he stops breathing or the bleeding gets worse—I’ll call an ambulance for you. You just focus on our boy, okay?”

“I can do that,” I say.

I hear the sound of an engine and look up, feeling relieved—until I see a familiar truck slowly heading toward us. “Oh, God…”

“Amity, what’s going on?”

“They’re back.” I put the phone on speaker and lay it on G’s stomach before sliding my hand back into his cut.

“Who’s they? Fucking talk to me, Amity!” Havoc yells.

“The truck that ran us off the road. It’s heading our way and driving slower than I can walk.”

“Shit. Fuck. Okay, listen to me, Amity. I need you to hide.”

“What? No, I’m not leaving G.”

“I don’t think they’re coming back to check on you, honey. I hope to fuck I’m wrong, but?—”

“You think they’ve come back to finish the job,” I cut him off, finally realizing that this wasn’t an accident. They hit us on purpose.

“Please, Amity. Hide. Do it for G,” he says softly.

But instead of giving in, it just pisses me off. “No. Fuck you, Havoc. I’m not leaving him, and you can’t make me.”

I pull out G’s gun and check to make sure it’s loaded. Taking a moment to center myself, I watch as the truck stops a few feet away.

“They’ve stopped,” I whisper.

Havoc curses, and I hear the sound of his engine revving louder as he races to get to me.

“If G doesn’t put you over his knee for this, I will,” he snaps as the truck doors open and two men get out.

I aim the gun, staying low. I don’t think they can see G and me clearly, thanks to the ditch we’re in and the way the bike’s angled.

“Two of them are coming my way.”

“Amity, are you armed?”

“Yes, I have G’s gun. You don’t think he’d mind me using it, do you?” My words come out childlike as I struggle to stay in the here and now.

I need to focus on G, not on my mom, on saving him, not on saving her.

“He’d want you to do whatever it takes to keep yourself safe. You hear me, darling? Whatever it takes.”

I understand what he’s saying. If it comes to it, I need to pull the trigger without hesitation because they won’t hesitate. When they shoot, they’ll shoot to kill, or they wouldn’t have come back.

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