Page 136 of Savior

“Then hit me,” she ground out. “Just end it.”

“He won’t,” Betsy gloated. “I’m his mother. He couldn’t even put down Michael, and I gave him every opportunity to do that. What makes you think—”

I’d always thought it was bullshit when people talked about time slowing down, but as Bear kicked in the front door and bikers swarmed the cabin, it felt like we were all moving underwater.

“Comedian,” Grey rasped. “Punchline.”

My old man suddenly grinned, his teeth stained with blood. His hand moved down to his boot, retrieving the .38 Special he used as a backup weapon. “Betsy, why’d God give men dicks?”

When she turned her face toward him, he took the shot, sending her and Celia tumbling to the floor. Celia immediately rolled away, hands up in defense, but my mother was gone.

“Bet you’re wantin’ the punchline,” he panted, his breaths growing farther apart. “It’s so we’d have at least one way of shuttin’ a woman up.”

I lowered my gun and went to him, peeling the shirt away from his chest. It was a miracle he was still conscious with as much blood as he’d lost. “We’re gonna get you some help—”

He jerked his chin to look up at me. “It’s okay, Junior. The monsters—the monsters are all gone now.” He exhaled loudly, and then his body went limp.

I stared down at the bodies of the people who’d raised me, both of them monsters in their own way. My mother had hidden her darkness well, letting everyone around her take the blame.

My old man had come into the world a villain but had died a hero.

“Molly!” Bear roared from across the room, dropping to his knees beside her limp body. He dragged her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “It’s okay, baby. We’re gonna get you help—”

She reached up and stroked his beard, her eyes closed as if she was slipping away. “I didn’t know Little Ricky was yours. I wanted it to be true so badly, but I swear to God I didn’t know. Please forgive me. You have to—”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I just need you to stay with me. I can’t do it without you, Mol.”

I frowned when her eyes suddenly popped open and her lips curved up into a smile. “Good. Because I need to be honest with you, bulletproof vests don’t absorb the shock like I imagined. Feels like I got hit with a sledgehammer,” she groaned.

“Wait. You’re wearing a vest? So all that talk of me needing to forgive you—”

“I thought now was as good a time as any to get back in your good graces.”

“Jesus Christ, woman,” he grumbled. “I oughta take you over my knee.”

“Please do,” she purred.

I turned away with a grimace, trying to get the mental image of them fucking out of my head. I’d seen enough old people going at it to last me a lifetime.

Those were scars that didn’t fade.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jimmy announced as he stepped over broken glass and blood. “Looks like you pulled it off, Sullivan.”

I watched as Grey was carried out by a team of bikers. He’d known I couldn’t take the shot and had saved us all with one word to Comedian.

He still owed me a conversation.

We’d put it off for too long.

We’d kept silent out of fear of Comedian, never once seeing that Betsy had been setting him up for years. From now on, there would be no more secrets between us.

I gestured toward Molly. “Hey, Jimmy, someone else here backs up my claim that, even with a vest on, a fucking 9mm feels like taking a bat to the chest.”

“Hmm… I’ll take that into consideration the next time I want to shoot you.”

“Sweetie, not sure if you remember or not, but we’d agreed on two shots. Do you remember how many times you shot me? Five. You shot me five fucking times!”

He shrugged with a relaxed smile. “Five seemed more believable.”

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