The man tears off my pack. I suck in a gasp from the pain.
“You carryin’?” He frisks me, his rough search jostling my rib.
“No.”
The man presses the gun to the back of my head again. “You sure don’t listen too well, do you?”
I don’t think he’s waiting for my answer, so I stay quiet.
“You’re also a persistent little shit. So we’re going to try a different idea. You now work for me.”
I try to turn my head because what the fuck is he talking about, but he presses the gun harder, and I stop. Shit. I don’t want to die out here.
“You’re going to report back to that boss of yours that the people he’s so keen to catch are using the hunting camps.”
“But that’s?—”
Something hard strikes the middle of my back and I lurch forward, barely getting a hand out in time to stop my fall.
Fuck! The pain sends a nauseous tickle up my throat.
“You’re also going to tell him that we use that music place in town.”
Huffing hard, I carefully push myself back. “The Limelight.”
“That’s the one.”
He’s asking me to lie to Stu, which will extend to Sheriff Olson. How in the hell am I going to pull that off?
The man tosses something small and black to the dirt in front of me. It’s a burner phone.
“Little party favor. When I call, you answer.”
I stare at the phone while the man’syou now work for meechoes in my panicked brain. This isn’t a one-time thing. He’s going to ask me to spread more lies.
Indefinitely.
How am I going to keep this a secret?
The solution comes so quickly that a pulse of warmth washes through me.
I can run.
It’s not my first choice. It means no goodbyes, I’m broke, and winter is coming. But maybe I can get south before it gets bad. I can make what little money I have work for me. And when it runs out, there are ways to make more.
“You want to see your little brother again, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
I’m so lost in planning my escape that it takes me a beat to understand what he’s just revealed.
Anger flashes so quick inside me that I can’t get a breath. I try to turn, but he forces me facedown and jumps on top of me. My chin cracks on a rock, and hot pain slices through my side and lungs, making me gasp and wheeze.
The man’s knee presses into my back while the gun barrel is steady against my skull. “Your new daddy and I go way back,” he says, breathing hard. “I know all about you.”
The pain makes it hard just to get enough air into my lungs. My vision tunnels. “He’s. Not. My. Dad.”
The man laughs, but it’s like dry sticks rubbing together. “I know what he likes to do to little boys. You want him to get his hands on William?”
Hot tears build behind my eyes and stings the bridge of my nose. Rage explodes in the pit of my stomach, bright and hot.