Page 71 of Along for the Ride

“Are we going to the hospital for your gunshot wound?” Leana asks.

So naïve.

“We don’t go to hospitals,” Gentry says with a laugh. “We’ll take care of it. It’s through and through, anyway.” He winces as he rubs his finger through the coagulated blood surrounding the hole.

Gentry and I have always dealt with the injuries that come from taking someone’s life. Or in this case, battling with the people trying to keep us from saving one. There’s nothing you can’t learn on the internet.

We start toward the SUV, and the dog remains at Gentry’s side, keeping pace with him.

I stop walking. “We cannot keep the murder mutt,” I say to Gentry. Judging by the softness in his eyes, that’s exactly what he’s considering.

Leana stops and turns to face me. “Why not? Look at all the dried blood in his fur. He’s one of us.”

“Absolutely not!” I say. “We’ve already taken in a stray thief. We don’t need to add another complication to our lives.”

Leana takes up a defiant stance, crossing her arms over her chest. “Aren’t we done with the murder spree? Your boss is dead, so it’s not as if another job is about to roll in.”

I match her stance and throw in a smirk for good measure. “No, we still have one more job, and the payout is too good to pass up.”

Gentry doesn’t hear either of us. He’s already continued toward the SUV...with the fucking dog.

I jog to catch up with him. “Hey, didn’t you hear me? We aren’t taking this dog.”

He stops and faces me, and the fucking canine does the same. It’s starting to creep me out. “George may be dead, and we may be working on our last lucrative hit, but I’m still the boss ofmybusiness, Karson. Don’t forget that.”

With a sigh, I give up. If he wants to keep the dog, that’s on him. He can work out the logistics.

When we reach the SUV, I climb into the driver’s seat. Gentry is happy to let me drive, and the thief and the furry baggage climb into the back seat. We can’t go to a hotel like this, so I search the phone for a campground and head that way. After a twenty-mile journey on some back roads, we drive into the park as if we belong there and park at an empty site.

“Put this on the dash,” Leana says as she hands a crinkled pass to me. Smart. It’s the pass from the last campground, and if no one looks at the date, it appears official enough. As long as no one else comes for this site.

A few leftover logs of wood from our last camping trip sit in the back of the SUV. I grab them and toss them into the fire pit. I draw a cigarette out of my pack and light it, then I scrounge up some kindling and ignite the wood. It finally catches and I pocket the lighter. Smoke gathers and orange flames singe the logs. Gentry steps closer and strips off his shirt, exposing the gunshot. A trickle of blood rushes from the wound any time he moves. We’ll need to take care of that.

I pull my knife from its sheath and hold the blade over the fire. The metal shifts from a cold gray to a slight glow, and I pull it away before it gets too hot.

“What are you doing?” Leana asks as she eyes the fire, eyes wide.

“Cauterizing,” Gentry says, pulling her into him with his good arm.

“But—”

“Just be with me,” he says.

“This is going to hurt,” I tell Gentry with a smirk.

“Yeah, I know, and you’re going to love it,” he snaps as he pulls her closer. Instead of biting down on something, he’s bracing against the one thing that brings him comfort. The dog comes over and flops down at Gentry’s feet with a yawn. It’s like a fucked-up Norman Rockwell painting.

I grab Gentry’s shoulder and pull him forward as I push the blade flat against his skin. The flesh sizzles, and he bites his lip to keep from screaming out. He’s so stoic when he feels pain. I swear he does it just to ruin my fun.

With a slow inhale, I revel in the scent of burning flesh the way someone might breathe a little deeper when they walk by a bakery. Delicious. “Now the back.” I dip the blade into the fire once more.

Sweat gathers on Gentry’s forehead, and the thief looks fucking queasy, which I’m enjoying. I put the blade to the exit wound, and it smokes and sizzles just like the front. His back curves, but he does little else to indicate how the pain rakes his spine.

“You guys are so fucked,” Leana says through a gag as the smell reaches her.

“Yep,” Gentry and I say in unison.

The bleeding stopped, Gentry assesses the wound care and nods. “I’m going to shower,” he says, looking over at the building across the road. He drops his gaze to Leana. “You look like you could use one, too.”

---