Page 22 of Keeping Her Under
He jackknifes upwards with a gasp. His hands wipe frantically at his eyes and mouth. We were uncertain if he’d come up swinging, so we made sure not to give him a choice. It’s an instinctive need to clear one’s eyes. A primitive drive to escape the dark.
Moving down his body, I pour a line of gasoline.
“What the fuck?” he shouts.
The sound of a pocket blowtorch burns to life behind me.
“That’s gasoline,” Asher says as if he’s talking about the weather. “And this is the torch to Hell.”
Ryan swivels towards my cousin’s voice. His body shakes. He swipes at the fuel still dripping down his face; the sharp tang of it burns my nose.
“What do you want?” he asks, his voice shaky and squeaky.
“It’s not what I want,” Asher says. “It’s what my boss wants.”
He swallows hard. “Wha-what does he want?”
“You’re taking care of a woman in the ICU. Her name’s Summer.”
He sucks in a breath. “She had a reaction to the anesthesia, but she’s stable. I swear –”
Asher waves his hand, and the gun he’s holding flickers in the firelight. Ryan pales as his eyes dart between it and the blowtorch. The pungent smell of gasoline seems as thick as smoke.
“I know,” Asher says casually. “One of our guys stopped in on her.” And just like that, we have framed her shitty boyfriend as one of us.
Spread the fear that we can get to him anywhere.
Planted the first seed he’ll tell the police once his balls drop and he tries to go to the authorities.
“You’ll check in on her at 10:30 tonight. At 10:55, you’ll make sure the floor is empty for the next ten minutes.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” he whines, and my jaw tightens at how easily he’s handing her over. He has no idea what we want with her. Ten minutes is plenty of time to kill her and sneak out.
My hands fist with rage, the knuckles of my right hand clenching around the can of gasoline. It’s only plastic, so beating him to death with it won’t be very easy, but if he tries to fight back, Asher will shoot him.
Then I can finish the job while he’s bleeding out. Because fuck! His job is to protect people. He took the Nightingale Pledge. He is her nurse; yet, not even he will try to save her?
She’s all alone in a cruel, cold world.
Not anymore, a little voice whispers.
And that is the only thing that cools me down. Makes my fingers relax. I need this piece of shit to get into her room so I can take care of her like she needs. I could wait until after she wakes, when I move her into my house, but the thought of her spending one more night on her own sickens me. If I could go to her now, I would. Not let her be alone for one more goddamn second.
“There’re four other nurses on shift,” Ryan cries. “How am I going to –”
“You’re a smart boy. You’ll figure it out,” Asher cuts in.
“I’ll lose my job!”
That is what he’s worried about? His fucking job when we could be going there to kill my beautiful angel?
My cousin steps forward before I can, the torch in his hand burning bright.
Ryan slinks back on the bed, none of his muscles able to help him now.
“Because if you don’t,” he says, stopping at the foot of the bed. He lowers the flames just over the soiled sheets, damn near touching the puddle of gasoline.
My heart rate kicks up even though I know he won’t go those last few inches, won’t rob me of my time with my girl. Ryan’s pulse, though, must be damn near vibrating.
