Page 60 of Vow of Silence

I’m nervous, too. You’d be fucked in the head if you weren’t. But when you step across the road, you need to let instinct take over; it knows how to keep you safe.

He packs the phone away in his back pocket and replaces it with the slim blade in his left hand, turning the tip toward his shoulder so that the hilt of the handle stays tucked against the heel of his hand. At first glance, there’s nothing there, but I know he’d be able to have it out within a second.

I palm the Glock, stretching out each finger in turn to ease the clammy grasp I have on the grip.

With the pistol in his right hand, Benito curls the weapon behind my head to use his forearm to pull me close. I lean in and accept the kiss he lays atop my head, savoring the strength it shares before he pulls away and starts across the road.

I can’t hear our footsteps. There’s only the whoosh of my steady heartbeat as it pumps blood through my veins. It doesn’t seem enough; I can’t feel my face. My gaze darts around our surroundings while I stay close to Benito’s back, just as he asked. The dog I spotted earlier paces the fence line, yet it doesn’t bark. It’s as though it doesn’t dare, or perhaps it knows why we’re there and feels we have every right to bring hell to this doorstep.

Animals have a weird way of sensing things like that.

He doesn’t knock—Benito—and why would he? We reach the front door, and I draw a deep breath before he sets his hand on the latch. Music plays behind the timber panel, yet I don’t hear a single voice. Is that because they know we’re here? Because they hide, ready for our entry?

I swallow down the sudden surge of nausea and fixate on the checkered pattern of Benito’s shirt as it pulls across his shoulder blades when we step into the house.

I don’t notice the guy.

All I hear is the faint whistle of Benito’s blade as it sails to our left and directly into the eye of a man who reaches for a side-arm. His body hits the floor with an echo behind us as Benito leads us into the small living room.

Four people inhabit the twelve-foot space, and only two are conscious.

My grip tightens on the Glock as I peel my gaze off the two men passed out on the sofa and toward the source of the noise. The couple is oblivious to our presence, fucking like crazed animals on a Formica dining table that seems ready to collapse with the effort the guy puts into plowing the woman’s ass.

Benito lifts his empty left hand to press his forefinger and thumb to the side of his brow. I bite my lip to stifle the adrenalin-fueled giggle that begs to escape. He doesn’t need a voice to say it:What the fuck?

I expect gunfire or for Benito to manhandle the guy off the woman’s back. I don’t know how these things usually unfold, but what I don’t predict is Benito slowly dropping on his haunches to lean forward beneath the couple’s line of sight so that he can retrieve the weapon on the arm of the chair beside them. They moan and grunt, their labored breaths disguising any noise we may make.

The sawn-off gets passed behind Benito’s back, and I reach out to retrieve it with my free hand. I can’t look away from the way the man destroys the naked woman, his hand wrapped in her long auburn hair. She seems as though she likes it, but perhaps they’re as high as the two passed out to our left? I eye the rubber tie around the left-most man’s arm. Benito nudges me with his wrist and then gestures for me to keep my eyes on the two men sleeping on the sofa. I nod, lowering the shotgun to my side and readying the Glock in my other hand.

Two of the four strangers in this room stole my best friend. Until I know exactly which ones they are, I’ll continue to hate them all.

The half-naked man at the table grunts with his release and then steps back in my periphery, allowing the woman a clear line of sight to us as she rolls over to right herself. Her eyes go wide, and then the woman laughs—fucking laughs.Definitely high.

“What’s so funny, bitch?” the guy asks as he tucks his dick away.

“You didn’t tell me I got an audience today.” She nibbles on her bottom lip and gives Benito eyes that make me want to blow the look clean off her face.

I don’t get long to dwell on it before the recently sated man turns and lunges for the now missing weapon. “What the…?”

“Looking for this?” I lift the shotgun at my side.

His crazed eyes flick from Benito to me as though he didn’t see me there initially. Given the way he treated the naked woman just now, I’d say a lot of women are invisible to this jerk.

I don’t get long to dwell on it before Benito has the man in an arm-bar, much to the woman’s amusement.

“Come on, Jerry. You can do better than that.” She taunts the guy with a lop-sided grin. I shiver when her gaze then drifts the length of me. “You want me to take this skinny bitch?”

First off, I amnotskinny. Second, who the fuck does she think she is, calling me a bitch? “Pardon?”

“Oh, honey.” She slides her naked butt off the table, much to the men’s confusion. “You think you can walk inmyhouse and show me up?”

So, it’s her place. Figures.

“Which ones are they?” I ask Benito, ignoring the shameless homeowner sashaying toward me as I check the unconscious duo.

He looks between the man in his hold and the guy sleeping on the right.

I lift my right arm and point the Glock at the woman’s head. “I wouldn’t take another step.”

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