Page 85 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

I answer. “I need a favor,” are my first words. No, that’s not right. It’s not a favor. It’s a return on my investment. After all the shit I’ve done for Carter and his crew, he owes me this.

“What the fuck?” he snaps. “Where the hell are you? Why weren’t you answering your phone?”

“Had an issue.” I withdraw the pack of cigs and retrieve another one as I make my way back to the open garage door. I pin the cell between my ear and shoulder as I light up another. A chain smoker, I’m not, but stress does crazy things to a man. So does killing.

Strangely enough, I don’t feel any regret. There’s no guilt over what I’ve done tonight. In fact, I feel free. Like I’ve shed an old skin and this fresh new shell is free of any and all sin.

“A big enough issue that you’ve missed your girl going MIA?” he demands. “Ava’s freaking the fuck out. She sent her a message and we got back there, we found your house wrecked.”

“Yeah, not surprised,” I say as I inhale the first hit on my new cig. “She wasn’t the only one gone.”

A beat of silence follows that and then, “He got to you?”

“You could say that.” I blow out a cloud of smoke.

“What do you need?”

I glance back at Dean’s question, my gaze scanning over the wreckage of the garage. “A clean-up crew,” I answer. “Have Rylie trace this call, I don’t know where the fuck I am, but I’ve got to get out of here soon. I’ve got to find her.”

“Already on it,” Dean replies. “It looks like you’re not far outside of town.”

Thank fuck. “Good, then you can get someone out here to clean this shit up and I’ll go get Micki.”

“Do you even know where he’s taken her?” Dean demands.

“Answer me something,” I say. “Were there bodies at my house?”

Dean goes quiet for a moment. “How did you guess?”

Then, I’m right. His answer confirms it. “It’s not where he’s taken her,” I say, knowing. “She’sgothim.” Which means I know exactly where the fuck she’s taken him.

“Want to clue me in?” Dean growls even as he turns away from the phone and barks something at another person.

“I will,” I say. “Later.” For now, I’ve got to find the keys to one of these fuckers’ cars and head back to Eastpoint. With any luck, and hoping I wasn’t out for long as they transported me, I’m not far.

“You’re going to need to give me more info to go on, Luc,” Dean snaps. “I don’t like being in the dark and if you need my help then tell me what’s going down. I can’t do shit if I’m clueless.”

“She’s gonna end it,” I tell him as I drop my cigarette and crush it under my shoe before I turn back to the interior of the garage. My feet carry me back to the collection of bodies as I start rifling through pockets. “If my father has shown back up then he realizes what she has and that means it’s time for her to reveal everything he’s done.”

“She’s gonna take it public?” Dean’s voice carries his shock.

“Yeah.” A small round object meets my fingers and I slip it free and press a button on the key fob. Behind me, somewhere out in the rain, a car beeps, responding. “Gotta go.”

“Wait!” Dean snaps. “Where is she gonna be? I’ll send backup just in case.”

“Send whatever you want,” I say. “She’ll be where it all started.” I grip the phone and straighten as I head towards the open garage door. I step under the downpour. The rain slicks my hair back, sticking it to the skin behind my ears and the top of my head. “She’s taken him to Kincaid Industries.”

My father’s soul is that building, that business. Now, it’ll be his coffin.

35

MICKI

I’m driving far too fast,and I can’t stop. Something tells me if I let up, if I ease my foot off the gas even an inch, it’ll all be over. I’ve waited months—no, I’ve waitedyearsfor this moment. All of the patience I thought I prided myself on is gone. Wrecked in the face of the final end.

“You really think you can do this to me, little girl?” I roll my eyes.Why is it that old men always think that their best insult is to infantilize a woman?It’s ridiculous. He sounds like the villain in some old western movie or something—minus the accent of course. Thomas Kincaid wouldn’t be caught dead speaking in any tone as pedestrian as anything other than the accent of a rich, American, asshole.

“Would a little girl be able to do this, Thomas?” I prompt him. “Look at yourself now. Tied up and at my mercy. The roles have reversed, now, haven’t they?”

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