by Kate Kessler
Killian glanced away. “Have you called her friends? K-Fed?”
“I did. None of them know anything.”
She snorted. “At least one of them is lying. They know something.”
Megan looked appalled at the idea. “You think they’d lie to me?”
“Like perfect little psychopaths if they thought they were helping Shannon, or just being assholes. When was the last time you saw her?”
Megan put a cup of coffee in front of her. “She hasn’t been home since Saturday.”
“That long?” Anger—and panic—flared in Killian’s gut. “Why the fuck didn’t you call me?”
“We had a fight about that boy. I thought she was teaching me a lesson. I waited for a bit to see if she’d call you, like she always does, but when I didn’t hear from you I began to worry. I called her—got her voice mail—and I called the cops.”
“You called the cops before me?” Unbelievable.
The coffeepot sloshed as Megan shoved it back into the machine. “That’s what normal people do, Killy. They call the police when their kid doesn’t come home.”
She was right, of course. Killian put her hurt aside—Shannon was what mattered. “Okay, I’ll go check out that place she was at last week. You got a to-go mug for this?” She held up her coffee.
Megan sighed. She looked exhausted—probably hadn’t slept since her fight with Shannon. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Mm.” She didn’t really expect to find Shannon there, but she couldn’t stand the look on her sister’s face any longer. If that’s what being a mother meant—that terror—then she was glad she’d decided long ago that motherhood wasn’t for her.
She drove to New Britain—she still had the address in her phone. The house was dark when she pulled up, but that didn’t stop her from looking around. An open window in the back was tempting, but getting picked up on a B&E wasn’t, so she compromised by just sticking her head in. There was no one there. Place was still a fucking disaster, though.
She texted Megan and got back in the car. She knew a few places Shannon hung out, so she drove around, but it was late, and a school night—they were all closed or deserted.
Killian stopped by an all-night gas station to fuel up. The smell of beer and sweat clinging to her shirt was becoming obnoxious. She pulled the backpack from the trunk and went inside to the bathroom. A quick whore’s bath with some baby wipes made her feel cleaner. She used hand sanitizer under her arms and changed her underwear, throwing the dirty ones in the trash. She’d pick up some new ones at Walmart later. She twisted her hair up into a messy bun on the back of her head and pulled on a clean, lightweight black sweater. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do until she got home and could take a shower. She stuffed her work shirt in the bag and walked out.
She paid for the gas, along with some jerky, licorice, gum, and soda, then made the drive back toward her sister’s. She didn’t go to Megan’s, though. In a few hours she’d be getting Willow ready for school, and she didn’t need to explain why Killian was there so early in the morning. Instead she drove to Shannon’s school and parked on a side street. She locked the doors, pulled out the book she was reading, and ate some of the jerky. Somewhere around five she drifted off and woke up just before seven.
The street was quiet with lots of trees and bushes—which was good, because she had to get out of the car and take a piss behind one of them. October was usually a nice month, but the mornings were getting cooler and she didn’t like sticking her bare arse out into it. She left the neighborhood before anyone could call the cops on her and pulled into the school parking lot, where she finished off the jerky and cola for breakfast. Then she chewed a couple of pieces of the gum while she waited. No one seemed to notice that she was just hanging out in her car.
While she waited, she used her phone to Google Dash again. She ought to call him. It was the right thing to do. Time to extend an olive branch. She’d never been very good at mending relationships. She tended to burn them like dried-up kindling and move on. But Dash…She missed Dash.
Eventually, kids began to arrive. She’d taken Shannon to school before, so she knew what time and where she liked to meet her friends. As soon as Killian spotted a couple of familiar faces, she got out of the car and walked toward the group. One of the guys noticed her first and said something. The rest of them turned to look at her as she approached. The fact that Shannon wasn’t with them made her chest tight.
The one she recognized as the girl who’d told K-Fed he was going to get his ass kicked looked frightened at the sight of her. She’d seen photos of her on Shannon’s page but couldn’t remember her name. Killian kept her attention focused on her. “Hi,” she said. “I’m looking for Shannon. Have you seen her?”
They all shook their heads, but the girl hesitated before shaking hers. “She’s not here yet.”
“She ain’t been around for a couple of days,” one of the boys said. “Thought she was sick or somethin’.”
Killian kept her gaze on the girl. “Where’s Madallya?” She was Shannon’s best friend.
The girl shrugged. “Dunno.”
“Neither of them were with you this weekend?”
The girl glanced at the boy who had spoken. “No,” the boy said. He was tall and thin with dark skin and curly hair. “Two of ’em said they had other plans, y’know?”
Slowly, Killian turned her gaze to him. “If you’re going to lie to me when you talk, do me a favor and keep your fucking mouth shut.”
He blinked. Then frowned. “You don’t have to be a bitch.”
“And you don’t have to be a liar, Zane.”
He paled a little. “You…You know my name?”
Her eyes narrowed. Seriously? “It’s on your sleeve, genius. Is she with K-Fe—Cody?”
Zane shrugged. “Who’s Cody?”
Killian took off her sunglasses and locked her gaze with his. “Kid, you and your white boy trying to be hood act are pissing me off.”
“Whatchoo gonna do about it?” he demanded, posturing.
The third girl grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Don’t be stupid. She went to jail for beating a guy to death.”
“Almost to death,” Killian corrected, doing a little posturing of her own. “Otherwise I’d still be in prison.”
Zane looked confused. He stared down at her like he didn’t believe it, but he wasn’t confident enough to press it.
“The last time we saw Shan or Mads was two nights ago,” the girl blurted. “At Cody’s.”
They made a collective groan of protest. The other girl hit her in the arm. “The fuck, Gee?”
Gina, that was her name. Shannon had tagged her in photos on Facebook. Gina scowled at her friend. “Shannon’s my friend. I ain’t lying anymore.” She looked at Killian. “We went to a party and Shannon hooked up with Cody. Then he gives her something and takes her into his room with a couple of his friends. After a while Madallya went in, too. I knocked when we were ready to leave, but they didn’t open the door.”
Killian’s stomach clenched. “So you left them there?”
Gina took a step back, but she nodded. “We thought Cody would take her home. It’s not the first time she stayed at his place, you know? No one’s seen either of them since.”
Killian slipped her sunglasses back on. “Where does he live?” When no one answered immediately, she added, “Don’t make me ask again.”
“Or what?” Zane challenged with a smirk.
She knew a lot of ways to hurt a person, but this little prick was just annoying. She pulled her middle finger back with her thumb and then flicked it hard against his Adam’s apple. “Ow!” he cried, stumbling backward. “The fuck?”
“Next time I use my foot,” she warned. “Now someone better give me Cody’s address before I decide to visit your parents and let them know what the fuck y’all have been up to.”
“He lives by the Vietnamese restaurant on Main Street,” Gina told her. “Apartment two.”<
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“Thanks.” Killian turned to leave, but reconsidered. “You’re some fucking lousy friends, you know that, right?”
At least Gina and the other girl had the grace to look guilty. Zane, though…he glared at her. God, she wanted to slap him. Just a little. Just enough. If they were in the yard she would have taken him down and taught him a lesson, but this wasn’t a prison yard, and she couldn’t beat up everyone who pissed her off.
She wanted to run to the car, but she made herself walk calmly. Jesus Christ. A guy takes a stoned girl into his room with his buddies and her friends just let it happen? Killian had hung out with some low people back in her teens, but no one who would have let something like that go down. Both Jason and Dash would have kicked the door in.
She took a deep, calming breath before turning the key. Shannon was a strong girl. As long as she was still alive, she could recover. Killian had to believe that. Shannon would survive this.
Cody might not be so lucky.
Traffic was a bitch at that time of morning. It took her twice as long to get to Main Street as it ought to have, lurching foot by foot down busy streets, waiting for lights to change, cursing advance green lights when they turned yellow. At least she got lucky when she finally found the restaurant. It wasn’t yet open for the day, so Killian had little trouble getting a parking spot in front. She parked, switched off the engine, and leaned back against the seat.
How did she want this to play out? What was the plan? Shannon’s safety was worth a return trip to prison, but that wasn’t license to be reckless or stupid. It was, however, a good enough excuse to do whatever she needed to find the girl. She just couldn’t let her temper make her stupid.
She opened the glove box. The handgun she used to keep there was gone. Shit. Megan or Cam had probably put it away—or gotten rid of it, scared it might be linked to God knows what. It was okay. She didn’t need a 9mm to deal with Cody. Shooting was too quick for the little bastard. He deserved to suffer.
A normal person wouldn’t be this calm; she knew that. It was the kind of peace that came over her before a fight—blocking out everything but her own breath. When she was younger she used to worry maybe she was a sociopath or something, but then Dash told her sociopaths didn’t worry about it. She was just very comfortable with violence. Knowing she could defend herself or others filled her with an inner peace not many people understood.
Some things felt as natural as breathing. For Killian, violence was one of them. Christ, what did it say about her that for the first time since getting out she felt “normal”? This was familiar, this thirst for blood. Comfortable. Like putting on her favorite boots. It formed around her like a warm blanket and drew her in. If it weren’t for the fact that Shannon was at the center of the storm, she might even enjoy it.
After a few more seconds of thinking before acting, she got out of the car. Resisting the urge to get the tire iron out of the trunk, she stepped up onto the cracked sidewalk. There was the door to the restaurant and then one beside it that led up to the second and third floors. It was partially open, rendering the security buzzers useless. Killian gave it a shove and stepped inside. Somewhere above her head someone was watching TV—something with a laugh track. She kept close to the wall as she crept up the staircase. The place smelled of soup, grilled pork, and pot. The paint on the stairs was scuffed and peeling—dog-crap brown on top of puke beige. Something sticky grabbed at the soles of her boots. She did not want to know what it was.
Someone had carved a large, crude penis into the banister, complete with a huge set of hairy balls. The artwork really added to the ambience of the place—added up to one classy establishment. Unfortunately, Killian was way too familiar with such spots. She’d spent more time than she cared to admit in a lot of shit holes just like it before moving into Hotel State. The house her mother had with her stepfather was the nicest place in which she’d ever lived, followed by the next house with her aunt. After that, home was whatever place would have her. She’d slept on stained mattresses, showered in tubs gray with grime, wiped her ass with an old tennis sock…She wasn’t a snob, but this place was shitty, even by her lax standards.
Of course, she’d rather have an apartment there than return to prison.
Jason had been with her in many of those crappy squats. A couple of them they’d found together. Looking back it felt like they’d been playing house, but at the time she’d thought they were as good as married.
“I’m gonna buy you a house someday, babe,” he’d promised.
“With a backyard and a balcony?”
“You know it. And a lot of bedrooms for our kids.”
Whenever he brought up a family her joy always faded. “I don’t want to have kids.”
He kissed her forehead. “You’ll change your mind someday.”
But she never did, and that was good because they never got the house. They managed to have an apartment of their own for a few months, until Jason got sent up and she couldn’t afford the rent. She stayed with Dash for a couple of weeks, but then he got a girlfriend and she felt like a third wheel. Plenty of other people had offered to help her, but there were strings attached. Strings that probably would have landed her in juvy, and then jail, long before she’d actually ended up there. That was one of the drawbacks of having criminals for friends. Eventually, you drew the short straw.
Cody was headed in the same direction if someone—Killian, probably—didn’t kill him first. You didn’t run with Wex for free. He had a habit of making his guys prove their loyalty by doing the time for his own crimes. Eventually Cody’s number would be up. He wasn’t taking Shannon with him when he fell.
Killian reached the top of the stairs. Apartment two was at the end of the dark corridor. There didn’t seem to be a light overhead, and the tiny window was so dirty it didn’t let in much light.
She knocked. Inside, above the sound of the television, she heard someone cough and the scrape of chair against linoleum, followed by the shuffle and clomp of untied hightops. She cracked her neck to ease the tension. Popped her knuckles.
The door opened, revealing the same scrawny-ass half-wit who had mouthed off to her on Thursday. He had cultivated just enough stubble above his upper lip to look like even more of a fucking douche.
“Heeeey,” he drawled, staring at her chest with glazed, heavy-lidded eyes. “What can I do for you, sweetmeat?”
Killian arched a brow. Sweetmeat? She hadn’t heard that in a while. “You don’t know me, do you, Cody?”
He leaned against the doorframe and gave her a lazy once-over. “Pretty sure I’d remember an ass as fine as yours.”
Jesus, the kid thought he was a player. Killian smiled as she snapped her fingers in front of his face. “What about my face?”
He looked up. The door swung at her fast, but she already had her boot over the threshold and her shoulder braced for impact. She shoved forward, knocking Cody into the apartment. Once inside, she kicked the door shut and moved toward him.
Cody’s hands shot out. His bloodshot eyes were wide now, the skin underneath bruised-looking against the pallor of his face. He wasn’t quite the arrogant douche she remembered. “Jesus fuck! Woman, what’s your problem?”
“Where’s Shannon?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
She didn’t have time for this shit. “Look, asshole. I’ve already done time for trying to kill a guy. You really want to take your chances lying to me?”
Cody’s gaze shifted to her left. Out of the corner of her eye, Killian caught movement. She didn’t think—she just reacted. She lunged forward and shoved her left hand into the slots of the toaster on the filthy counter. She yanked it free of the wall and swung with all her strength, catching the second guy on the side of the head. Twice. He crashed to the dirty linoleum with a groan, dropping the hammer he’d meant to use against her.
“Asshole,” she snarled, giving him a sharp kick to the kidneys before kicking the hammer out of his reach. He cu
rled into himself, his baggy jeans slung so low the waist was almost tucked behind his knees. He wore Superman boxers.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpered.
“Sure you are.” Sorry she got him first. Out of the corner of her eye she spied Cody inching toward the hammer. Killian threw the toaster at him. It bounced off the back of his skull with a twang and a clatter before crashing to the floor, its scratched chrome surface splattered with blood. Not bad for a girl who wasn’t even left-handed.
Not-Cody lay slumped against the cabinets, a trickle of crimson running from his hairline down his temple and cheek. Real Cody pushed himself to his hands and knees on the floor that might have been white and blue at one time, but was now gray and more gray.
“Fuck, woman! You crazy!”
The wires inside the toaster had bitten into her middle finger hard enough to draw blood, and it stung like hell. Killian glared at him before snatching the hammer off the floor. “Where’s Shannon?”
“I told you I don’t know.” He struggled to his feet. “I ain’t seen her since Saturday.”
“Lie to me again and I’m going to shove this hammer up your ass,” she promised. “Claw end first.”
He touched his fingers to the back of his head and hissed in pain. He wiped the blood on his shirt. “Go fuck yourself, bitch.”
That was more the Cody she knew. “I’ve already been more than patient with you, asshole.”
Suddenly there was a knife in his hand. A switchblade. Where the fuck had that come from? His sock? How humiliating was it to have this dick get the drop on her? Very.
“Your mommy let you play with that?” she asked. Killian wasn’t stupid. Knives were dangerous, but she was pretty sure no one had ever taught Cody the right way to use one. People thought all you needed was a sharp blade or strong arms and you were good to go. They had no idea that there was technique to it.
Blood trickled down his neck. Sweat beaded on his upper lip, and his eyes were wide and crazy. “I’m going to slice you from your mouth to your pussy so you’re nothing more than one big, gaping cunt.”
