Page 205 of Come Back to Me

“You’re under arrest for the attempted murder on the person of Amy Nygard!”

“You don’t know who fired the bullet, though, do you? Ever heard of reasonable doubt?”

My jaw works. “Don’t you want to check on your daughter?”

“Rats aren’t appreciated around my people.”

Blood sputters out of Amy’s mouth. Gut rot never bodes well—the fucker’s got her in a place that could forever silence her.

“Where’s Fairweather, Amy?”

Her hand shifts, one finger pointing at the bar.

“You sure he’s dead.”

Her lips quiver. “Y-Yes.”

“You?”

She closes her eyes.

That’s the only answer I get.

“Rats might not be welcome around your bar, but what about the corpse?” I holler. “You going to leave it there to rot? We’ll call in backup from Saskatoon. SWAT will be here before you know it, and they can storm the building.

“Don’t you want to control the narrative? Or do you want the wrong person to suffer? One of you already shot her. If she survives, do you want her moldering away in a cell?

“Then there’s the fact a Fairweather died on your turf. His father can buy and sell you in his sleep. You think he’ll roll over? Fuck if this won’t lead to all kinds of departments sweeping into town to tear you apart if you don’t take charge of this situation.”

I hold out hope that Razer isn’t a complete piece of shit father like mine is.

Paulie used to talk about him, said he was a junkie who was barely around until they were older, that he didn’t exactly love his kids but didn’t hate them either. He was a deadbeat dad who wanted to pass on his dubious legacy tooneof his spawn.

Razer was still holding out hope that once Paulie retired, he’d take over as Prez.

“You know who killed that boy,” I shout when no answer is forthcoming.

I glance at Amy, willing her to be alive still. Blood gurgles from her mouth, her chest barely rising and falling?—

“I’ll come out. Hold your fire.”

Thank fuck.

I don’t even want to speculate why Razer takes the blame.

With backup making itself known in the parking lot, the small area filled with blue and red lights, he finally steps out, hands behind his head.

“Where the fuck are you going, Razer?” someone hisses behind him, but he ignores them.

“Sir?” Marty shouts.

“Hold your fire,” I snap.

“Stand down,” Razer roars at his back.

Nunez—thank fuck—scuttles behind me. “How is she?”

“Bad. Can you help her until the ambulance shows up? Single GSW to the upper abdomen.” To my men, I demand, “If anyone so much as looks out the door, you fire.” I stand a little taller, well aware I’m turning myself into a sitting duck. “Razer, I want you to put your hands on the hood.”

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