Page 116 of Indigo Sky

Anyway, that gun wasn't like this one.

This one was real.

This one could kill.

Nate sniffed, checked the chamber, made sure it was loaded—it was—and clicked it shut. He moved like he knew what he was doing, like someone who had done this before, and when he followed my gaze, he huffed a chuckle.

"Don't worry. It's legal."

"Oh, that makes me feel a lot better," I deadpanned while my brain lingered somewhere inside the shop, wherever Kate was. Alive. Hurt. Dead.

God, please don't let her be dead. Even if she's hurt, even if she's scared, just don't let her be dead.

"That night was the first time Jim raped me," Nate said, turning to look at me.

He hadn't said that word before.Rape. He hadn’t been able to. But he said it now without hesitation, so matter-of-fact, and that sick, nauseated feeling lurched and swelled. And with it came a deep, untouchable sadness for my friend. Mybrother.

"Herapedme, Rev. He had done shit before … beaten me, made me do shit to him … did shit to me … but he fuckingraped methat night. And I felt like … I could live with all that other shit, but … I couldn't live with that. Anything but that. I couldn’t go through that again."

"So, you set the house on fire," I said so he didn't have to.

"Yep." He nodded, and the moonlight reflected off the tears brimming in his eyes, blackened from his broken, swollen nose.

Just like that, this car had become his confessional. If we were going to walk in there together, if we were going to die—I don't want to die—his last horrible secret was out there, shouldered by someone else. Me. His brother.

I was glad to carry the weight.

"It's okay," I told him because it was. "You did what you had to do."

He huffed a bitter laugh and shook his head. "I killed my mother, and you say it's okay."

"Yeah, well … fuck her. Fuck both of them."

He met my eye and barely nodded. "Yeah," he whispered into the dark as one rogue tear fell from his eye. "Fuck them."

Then, he cleared his throat, wiped the back of his hand over that tear, and gripped my shoulder, the gun in his other hand. "Call the cops," he instructed me. "Then, we're going in there, and we're rescuing your woman."

I tightened my grip around my phone as I said, "You're assuming she's still alive," putting words to the dread coalescing with my blood.

"I'm choosing to believe she is," he replied. "Now, come on, Captain. Let's take back what's yours."

I dialed 911 while Nate got out of the car and tried the front door of the shop.

The operator asked for my emergency, and all I could say, in a calm voice that surprised me, was, "I think someone is holding my girlfriend against her will. Send someone over,please."

I gave them the address and told them to hurry. I left the phone on the dashboard to keep them on the line, to track my phone's signal if they needed to, and I got out of the car.

Nate met me outside, and we crouched together in the dark. He wagged a finger at the front door and shook his head. It was locked. He redirected that finger at me, then pointed at the side door.

"You go through there," he commanded in a voice I barely heard. "Take the gun."

I shook my head and hissed, "I don't even know how to use that thing."

"It's not that hard. You point it at him and pull the trigger."

I blew out a trembling breath. I didn't want to take the damn thing, but I took it anyway. "What are you gonna do?"

"There's another gun in the office," he whispered. "I'm heading there, praying to fuckin' God Donny didn't get to it first. But, listen, keep your head down and keep quiet."

---