Page 74 of Hitch
“I’ll take care of this,”Todd says.
But I can’t stop staring at Reggie. The way she looks at me like I’m going to kill her. How Ishouldkill her, but nothing in my mind will let me. It’s the most frustrating situation I’ve ever encountered.
“I’lltake care of her,” I say in a low voice.
Todd mumbles something, probably about taking care of Braden’s body, but all I care about is Reggie. I pull her into my arms, and she wiggles, trying to get out of my grip, but I tighten my grasp, and eventually, she stills like a baby deer. I carefully take her out of the basement, back to the living room. I set her down on the couch, making sure she’s balanced, then I take my knife and cut off the duct tape.
Once her hands are free, she rips off the rest of the silver adhesive, her teeth clenched together. Anger blooms in her eyes, her hatred aimed at me.
Rage boils in my chest too. After everything she’s seen, after everything she’s done, after she knows that I’m saving her—that I’m letting her go—she has the nerve to be mad at me?
“You’re a killer,” she hisses. “You’re danger in the flesh. You’re nothing but a—”
“You say that like you’re innocent,” I say gruffly. “But you’re not. You break the rules. Different ones than I do, but still, Reggie, you ain’t a saint. You break rules too. Braden was right, wasn’t he?”
“What the fuck do you mean?”
“You’re just a whore looking for a quick buck, using the blackmail to get one over on us.”
I don’t mean it, but I know I need to convince myself of its truth. Her fist whacks into me, swinging my cheek to the side. The sting radiates on my skin, and I don’t know who was more disrespectful: me, or her.
I rub my jaw, then slowly turn back to her. The words still burn in my chest, and I know I shouldn’t have said them. I shouldn’t have killed Braden for trying to protect our livelihoods. I shouldn’t have done a lot of things.
I should have never picked up Reggie on the side of the road,but I did.And I can’t take that back now.
Reggie’s jawline strains. “You know what? Ishould’veblackmailed you.” She pulls out her phone, flipping through the screens until she finds a gallery of video files. I see the thumbnails—the outside of the labs, the mushrooms. All of it. “I took these with that camera on my purse because it made me feel safe. Like insurance, you asshole.” Her voice strains, and my throat tightens in response. There’s so much pain in her tone, that it defeats me. “But you know what, Duane? I didn’t do anything. And Ishouldhave. I should have emailed all of this to the cops.”
“I’m sure you would’ve turned in that digital camera in a day or two,” I scoff. “Don’t act like you’re on my side.”
She glares at me, crossing her arms. “What digital camera?”
My muscles pool with tension. “You know what I’m talking about,” I growl.
“No, I don’t. I don’t know about any blackmailer, and I don’t know about any camera,” she shouts. “And you know what? No one had to die for this. No one had to die for your drugs. For your stupid business. For your—”
“I killed them foryou,” I howl. She falls still, and I grit my teeth, forcing the words out: “If I didn’t kill them, then I would’ve had to kill you, and no matter what I do, I just can’t kill you.”
I stand up, and she flinches back. Her fear pounds into me like a knife.
I want her to respect me. To fear me. To know that I have control over her.
But not like this.
“You knew I was a killer from the first night we met,” I say in a low voice. “So why did you agree to all of this?”
Silence fills the space between us, and I can’t take it anymore. I pull out my knife and throw it at her feet. Then I remove my gun from the holster and set it on the couch beside her. I check my pockets, making sure all of my weapons are gone. I show her my empty palms.
She picks up the gun and aims it at my forehead. I drop to my knees and gaze up at the barrel. We both know who wins this time. I won’t even pretend to fight it.
“Money,” she whispers, a tear running down her cheek.
My throat aches. Money. Money means business. Money means power. And a woman like Reggie is desperate for more of it. No wonder she’d be desperate enough to mess with my head.
I reach for my pocket, and she pulls back the hammer. I open my wallet and throw all the bills on the floor. They scatter like dried leaves in the autumn sunlight.
“There’s your money,” I say. “Now go.”
Her fingers twitch as she eyes me. Anger clinches my throat.
