Page 28 of Of Sinners & Salvation
“You and me too, buddy,” Heath says.
“What now?” Walker asks, his tone bitter. “You going to murder me and dump my body in the ocean?”
“We can’t kill you yet,” Angel says. “We still need information. Then we can kill you.”
“No one’s killing him,” I say sharply, scowling at Angel. I think he’ll argue, but he only turns his face away.
“Why would I help when I have no guarantee you’ll let me go after I do?” Walker asks as I shift to continue through the light when it turns green. “I went along, trusting you because y’all had a priest with you, and despite all the rumors and evidence against priests, I figured hey, they can’t all be bad. Nothing bad ever happened to me or my brother, and I was going to seminary school and I have no interest in any shady shit, so maybe there are good ones too. I was going to be one of those. But you’re not, are you, Father?”
I flinch, but I don’t answer. I’ve never been a good one. Not because I have any interest in children, but because I can’t even follow the Ten Commandments.
Thou shalt not kill.
“I didn’t know I was an actual hostage,” Walker goes on. “You led me to believe I was along to help you out, a little reluctantly at first, but as a kind of penance for the side of my family that’s into… The unsavory element, shall we say? Not as your fucking scapegoat.”
“You sure got a lot to say for a guy with two busted lips,” Angel says.
“Consider them my last words, in case your trigger-happy bird brain snaps for absolutely no reason and kills me this time,” Walker says. “And by the way, you owe me a fucking tea.”
“Your family is Disciples. Mine is Crossbones. That’s all the reason I need.”
“Iam not a Disciple,” Walker says, then directs his attention back to me when I’ve parked the van in one of the few empty spaces in front of the seafood place. “Hate to say it, but I expected better, Dante. If I’d known you were going to throw meto gang members, I wouldn’t have been so agreeable. But hey, that’s not your fault, is it? You probably didn’t know. I’m sure you didn’t sit in your church van and watch him bash my face in. You’re a good guy, after all. The kind who lets a stray wander into his house and crash on his couch with no ulterior motives.”
“If you’re suggesting I had this planned ahead of time when you asked to stay with me, I assure you, I didn’t,” I counter, turning to look at him over my shoulder. I have to fight not to show anything each time my gaze lands on his misshapen face. Angel really did beat him badly.
“Guess I’ll have to take your word on that,” Walker says. “Just like I have to take it that you’ll let me go. Too late now. That’s on my dumb ass for trusting someone outside my circle. Guess I can’t even trust family anymore. If that little shit Nate hadn’t thrown in a good word, I wouldn’t have done that. That fucking traitor. I get out of this alive, he’s paying for it.”
“We’re not going to kill you,” I assure him. “We need your help. If you can do that, we’ll let you go with no strings attached. You have my word.”
“Wait a minute,” Angel says. “What’s to keep that asshole from going to the cops? He’s got money, not to mention all the lawyers in his family. We kidnapped him and kicked his ass. You think he’s going to just forgive us out of the goodness of his heart?”
Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who have sinned against us.
“I think he’s wise enough to know discretion will be expected,” I say. “Aren’t you?”
“Sure,” Walker says. “You let me go without another scratch on me, I’ll help you find your lost lamb. But then you owe me.”
“We don’t owe you shit,” Saint growls, sliding open the door and climbing out.
“Yeah,” Heath says. “You’re not exactly in a position to bargain.”
“Neither are you,” Walker says. “I have to trust a bunch of guys who’d rather see me dead. That’s a big risk to take. I was going to work with you all civil-like, the way Nate does, but you went and fucked that up.”
“What do you want?” I ask, getting to the point.
“I’m a reasonable guy,” he says. “I won’t ask for too much. I’m also a very rich man, so don’t insult me by offering me money.”
“So we owe you favors,” Saint says, glowering. “You’re just like Nate.”
“And to think, I would have done it for free,” Walker says, climbing from the van to join the others. “Too bad you couldn’t keep your feral hyena under control.”
“You’re really pushing it,” Angel growls, taking a menacing step toward Walker.
My chest is gripped with that sickening burst of anticipation and dread that rises each time the threat of violence is near. I’ve spent years keeping it in check, but it never goes away. It was pounded into my body one blow at a time as I was formed from clay, etched into my skin with chisel and whip. Now it’s part of my very being, no matter how hard I hold onto control, how fervently I pray it away.
Walker is right. I am not good. I did watch Angel crack a bottle over his head, throw him to the ground. I can tell myself it all happened so quickly, I couldn’t have intervened.
But if I could have… Would I?
