Chapters (95)
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- Eighty-Four
- Eighty-Five
- Eighty-Six
- Eighty-Seven
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by David Swinson
- Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.
Older looks direct at me like he knows what’s coming. “They even watchin’ other police officers, one who lives up the street a bit. Eyes on fucking everybody,” he says like he’s pleading. “Even this cute little lawyer. No one be safe with them.”
The fuck? Leslie?
That more than throws me. My stomach aches, and I want to heave. I want to question him about that but can’t give it up that I care. That’d be giving them too much knowledge. They may look stupid, but they’re not, especially Older. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
A deep breath, then I stand up. Spin a little. Regain myself, set the bottle down on the coffee table, pull off the latex gloves, and stuff them into a side pouch of my pack. I replace them with my leather tactical gloves, down some more vodka, then just drop the bottle to the floor. The thud echoes through the room.
I walk over to them, hovering over Younger.
“C’mon, now,” he begs. “You got what you came for.”
“I realized there was more. And you said, ‘Do what you gotta do,’ right?”
I clock Younger on the same side of the face as before, but with more force. Yeah, hard as shit. I hear something crack, and I know it isn’t my knuckles. He goes out. Like nothin’. Split his cheek open. Blood oozes from between the folds of skin and down, dripping off his chin and onto the side of his neck.
I drag the huffing and puffing Older by the neck of his T-shirt toward the center of the living room, away from his little brother. I kick him hard in the gut. Snot shoots out his nostrils. More of Grandma’s shit spills off his lap. I don’t want any of that on me, so I’m careful.
I kick him again, and again, then one more time, even harder. No other position he can put himself in ’cause of how he’s zip-tied together. He has to take it like I give it. I start to punch him in the face. I don’t know how many times. He’s bleeding through his nose. After one more punch my head’s spinning. He’s out, but I kick him again. I straighten myself up and feel the house tip. My damn heart’s trying to beat its way through my chest. I was somewhere else for a minute.
The room steadies. I look at the both of them, walk over to Younger, and decide to kick him in the gut, too, but only twice. Still hard. I have to sit in the wooden chair to catch my breath. I notice the bottle of vodka that I dropped. At least one more swig left that didn’t spill out of the bottle. I pick it up and take it, set the bottle on the coffee table.