Page 13 of Mine to Keep
I pull the Desert Eagle from my bag and sit it on my lap, cutting off his words as he swallows roughly. Tilting my head, I ask, “Are those your last words? A lie? You should meet your maker with the truth on your tongue, don’t you think?”
He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, his eyes darting between my gaze and the big ass gun resting on my thighs. I take another sip of the wine, humming in appreciation. It really is good. I think I’ll take this bottle with me—I planned to just take the glass since it has my DNA on it. Maybe finishing the bottle will help me sleep.
Sitting up, I sip the wine once more. After I swallow, I ask, “Why leave with all those people’s money? You could have just left. You already had more money than you could spend.”
“What do you care?” he sneers.
I shrug, finishing off the last of the wine. “I don’t. I’m curious.”
Joyner scoffs, lying back against the bed. “I’m used to the finer things in life. You think I could have lived this well without money? I needed it more than those people did.”
Tsking at him, I say, “Be so fucking for real right now. You’re greedy. Instead of leaving with the inheritance from your richy rich grandfather, you stole from other people.” He looks at me in surprise. “Yeah, I did my homework. Eight hundred million dollars was more than enough to live this well many times over.Stealing was just greed and you know it. Admit it. Unburden your sins before you’re sent to the upper room. Or the lower. I don’t think Jesus or his Pops will let you in because of all the people you left homeless.”
Regret fills his eyes. “You plan to use that on me?” Joyner asks, sounding contrite for the first time as he inclines his head towards the gun.
“I am. I was told to make it hurt. You deserve some pain.”
His throat bobs as he gears up to plead with me. I hold my hand up, cutting off the begging before it even begins. “No need for that. Your fate is sealed. Begging will only irritate me.”
Joyner ignores me. “Please. I can make you a rich man. I have…money. Money here. Let me go and I’ll get it from my safe.”
Mention of a safe has my mind going back to Adelane. The fuck-up in Arizona. I don’t want to be paid off again. I want to get the job done and leave.
Shaking off the ill feelings, I place the wine glass on the floor and stand, palming the gun. “No. I’ve already been paid. All that’s left is you dying.”
Before he can beg more, I raise the gun and shoot him three times, twice in the chest and once in the face. The sound is deafening, but it brings a smile to my face. My ears ring as smoke drifts up from the barrel of the gun. Half of Joyner’s head is sheared off, but it’s obvious who he is. I pull out my phone and take several pictures for confirmation, sending them to Peggy for her to forward to The Void.
Peggy sends me a thumbs-up emoji, and I chuckle. Only she would see a dead body and respond that way.
Even though I have latex skin on my hands, I still wipe the gun down before I place it on his chest. I don’t need it anymore, though I wish I could keep it. The serial number is scrubbed,making it untraceable, so I’m not worried about it leading back to me or The Void.
Retracing my steps, I wipe down everything I touched. I have on a skull cap, so none of my hair—real or not—would have fallen to the floor.
I pack the glass and bottle of wine into my bag, then close the curtains. Joyner will be found in about twelve hours, since he’s supposed to have another of his pretentious parties in the morning.
After making sure I’ve cleaned and taken everything I brought with me, I head back to my car and start the drive back to the safe house. Adrenaline from the kill has me wired, my sleepiness a thing of the past. Maybe after facing this bottle of wine, I’ll pass out for the night.
As soon as I get back, I strip out of my clothes and take a shower, cleaning the kill off me. I watch as the makeup from my face tracks down the drain, and I scrub off the temporary tattoos, the small black pieces floating down right behind.
Once I’m done, I dress in boxers and pull the wine from my bag, drinking it straight from the bottle. It takes no time to chug the entire thing and I lie in bed, feeling the effects.
The wine makes me drowsy and pushes me into much needed sleep, but it also keeps me under, when all I want is to wake up from the nightmares.
The terrible dreams claw at me, not letting me go, forcing me to face them.
“Why is it not important?” Judge Bowers asks me, standing over me with aDesert Eagle in his hand. He aims at my forehead, the barrel pressed tight to my flesh. “Why is it not important who you are? I need to know. And you’ll tell me.”
Judge Bowers’ face has no trace of the busted lips, broken nose, and swollen eyes. He’s big and imposing, towering over me like a man responsible for my fate. And he is, with that gun in his hand. His hard look, devoid of mercy says he is.
My pride won’t allow me to give him what he wants. “No,” I respond through swollen lips. Blood drips from my nose, staining the back of my hand as I try to clean myself up.
“Then you’re useless to me.”
The sound of gunfire makes me flinch, but the shot doesn’t kill me. Instead of the bullet hitting me, it hits someone else. And she lets out a ragged scream. It’s a sound I’m all too familiar with. A sound I try to stop before it reaches my ears, but it’s useless. She’s free. Now she’s free, but at what cost? What was the cost to me?
My ringing phone wakes me before I can sink deeper into my personal hell. My heart races, the visions of my dream still swimming in my head.
I grab my phone and note the time before I focus on the caller ID. I got an hour of sleep before the ringing phone rips me from my nightmares.
