Page 36 of Along for the Ride

Karson puts his hand to his chin. “It’s kind of like how your wife liked how I fucked her too.”

Gentry punches the gun butt into the side of Karson’s head. In the same motion, he pulls Karson’s knife from his belt and holds it to Karson’s throat. “I should have let them kill you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Karson laughs and leans into the blade until a slender trickle of blood slithers down his neck.

Gentry shakes his head and lowers the knife. “Fix this,” he snarls, throwing the phone into Karson’s lap. “You fucked it up, so you can fix it. Tell him it’s done.”

“He’ll find out it’s not and then we’ll all be in a load of shit.”

“If anyone tries to kill her, they’ll have to go through me. That includes you.”

Something swells in my chest as he chooses me over his piece of shit brother. The choice can’t be that difficult, though. I’d choose syphilis over Karson.

“You really think you can handle George? Not just him, but his men too?” Karson sits up taller. “You’ve always been the level-headed one between the two of us, always the responsible, cautious killer, so why the fuck are you throwing it all out the window for her?”

I don’t know if I’m ready to hear the answer.

* * *

Gentry

My eyes hyper-focuson the heartbeat pounding a steady rhythm in the artery in his neck. It would be so easy to end him. I just need to send the blade across that jumpy bit of skin, and then life would be better. He betrayed me, yet again, and I shouldn’t even be surprised by it anymore. It’s so fucking normal for him.

He’s not wrong, though, which infuriates me. I’ve always been the responsible one. Even when we were younger, I made sure we picked targets that wouldn’t draw too much attention. I made sure not a bit of evidence was left at the scenes. Leana is making me throw away the saying I coined when we were kids.No one’s Kursed but us.Bringing a third person into a business like this triples our risk of getting caught. That’s just basic mathematics.

But I want the risk.

She ismyresponsibility. She’smine.

And now she’s marked for death. Officially. Fucking Karson.

I get out of the SUV and get into the back seat with her. Her big eyes look up at me, and I try my damndest to keep a brave face. Karson twists in his seat and stares, and I can almost hear him wishing for a bowl of popcorn.

“Easiest way would be asphyxiation, but if you can’t bear to drain the breath from her body, try her blood.” He tosses me his knife, and I catch it.

She shakes her head, scooting backward until her spine connects with the door. I don’t want to do this, but I don’t see another option. If George gets his hands on her, he’ll torture her, then he’ll kill me when I try to stop him. I can offer her a swift death.

I grab her ankles and rip her toward me so I can lean over her. She’s crying, hands pushing at me as I flip open the blade and push it against her throat.

“Why’d you let us in the car?” I ask. It’s the same pleading tone I used when I asked her why she got out of the car at the last hit.

“Gentry, don’t,” she pleads.

“Don’t,” I snarl. “Don’t try to plead with me because you think I have a heart.” Despite my words, her voice has reached the bit of beating tissue in my chest. If I don’t hurry and silence her, I won’t have the willpower to finish the job.

With the blade against her throat, I lose sight of myself.

Some people lose themselves inside a mental labyrinth when they need to escape a situation that is too painful to experience, but that’s not what I do. I follow a red mist of rage into the depths, going until I find myself hovering over a scene that feeds my inner demons. I watch the murder unfold in front of my mind’s eye like a movie, committing it to memory so I can replay it as many times as I want. The playback moves past the boring parts and slows to a near standstill when it gets good. Like the moment their last breath arcs from their lips.

This is what I can offer Leana—a place where she can live in my mind forever.

“Please, sir,” she whispers as the pressure on her neck increases. The moment she says that, the cold killer thaws.

I can’t do it.

I sit up on my knees and toss the knife to Karson. “Tell them it’s done and make it believable,” I say, pointing at the phone. He better, because that cold killer will happily come for him instead.

“You want me to call George and lie?” Karson says. “That’s a death sentence.”

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