Page 75 of Possession

That’s it.

I’ll kill the man myself before this is all said and done.

“You’ll hear from me tomorrow,” I promise.

I don’t wait for him to express how much he looks forward to adding to his collection of dead cops. I hang up and put a hand to the wall to support my weight.

I need to get a fucking grip.

I knew it had happened in the past—that they killed cops. But I thought it was only as a defensive move. Who wants that kind of attention?

In my worst nightmares, I didn’t think it would be for some sick initiation.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. The real phone, my only connection to reality.

Before I dare look at it, I go straight to our connecting bedroom and bathroom. Landyn is with Rocco in the dining room studying biology. She told me the only reason she’s doing this is because she’s bored to tears, and if she can’t be with me, she might as well hang out with Rocco.

I lock the door—safe from surveillance cameras and my fake wife—pull out my cell, and sit on the closed toilet.

Carson – What the fuck. Is that what I think it was?

Me – Your guess is as good as mine, which is really fucking good, so I think yes. That’s exactly what it is.

Carson – Get the hell out of there and call me. We need to figure this out.

Me – I can’t. I have a meeting with New York, and Alamandos could find out if I miss it.

Me – They’re killing cops, Carson. Randomly putting a target on their back just for the pleasure of getting to work with the Marinos. You know what this means.

Carson – I know, man. I fucking know.

Carson – But I also need to know that you’re steady. I’ll pull you from this if I have to.

The thought of that happening before I finish makes me want to rip this fucking mansion down with my bare hands.

Me – You do that and you’ll have more problems than you know what to do with.

Carson – Then do what you need to do and finish this shit.

Me – You heard what he wants. As much as it turns my stomach, I need a fictional dead cop. How the hell you’re going to do that is beyond me.

Carson – I think I can make it happen. I’ve got a guy—Ozzy Graves. He dabbles in the dark web. This is sick as hell, but he should be able to come up with something. He can create bogus links, devise the lie from the ground up.

Me – I need it by tomorrow.

Carson – You act like I wasn’t there for the actual conversation and have a recording of it for memorabilia and federal warrants. I know what you need. Chill the fuck out so I don’t have to raid the place and personally drag you out of it. I don’t fuck around when it comes to my assets, Brax. Do not go cowboy on me.

Me – Like you weren’t playing in the wild, wild west when we met.

Carson – Right back atcha, my handsome friend. But I’ve gone to bat for you more times than I can count since this shit started. I’m kind of attached to you at this point. You’d better not get made on my watch. I need to call Tim and update him. He’ll kill me if anything happens to you.

Carson has gone to bat for me, probably more than I know.

But it’s my neck on the line.

Carson – A fucking initiation. You okay?

I drag a hand down my face and am about to answer that, no, I’m the farthest thing from okay right now, when I hear her.

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