by JA Huss
This is where Veronica got shot. I look over to my right. That spot was where she fell. Where Ford tied off her arm and saved her life.
Did I shoot her?
I actually don’t know if it was me or…
My eyes wander until I find a dark stain in the middle of the garage.
Tony.
I walk over to the stain. There’s no cars in here, so I can only assume they never finished the construction. When I found this building the builder ran out of money and it was just sitting half empty. Looks like that hasn’t changed.
I kneel down next to the stain and call it like it is. The stain of my brother’s brains as his head splattered from the force and velocity of my bullet.
I look behind me and imagine Ashleigh and Kate. My perfect little niece. I never knew Ash. I could give a fuck about that girl. But she’s the mother of my niece and that means something. She’s family. And I don’t have much family.
I look back at what’s left of Tony’s mark in this world. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I swear to God, I’m sorry. I just need to make this end. And it’s not your fault you were crazy. It’s not my fault I’m crazy. They did this to us and if I let you take Kate, they’d do it to her too.”
I swallow hard and stand up, taking in a long breath of air.
“I’m gonna end it all, one way or another.”
I look up and wait. For some kind of signal. Or feeling of forgiveness. Or something.
But that’s Hollywood movie bullshit. I only deal in reality. And in reality, there’s no such thing as forgiveness. There’s no such thing as redemption. And there’s no such thing as justice.
There’s only revenge.
I nod at the stain and turn, going back the way I came. When I get to the gate, I open it instead of jumping over since I’m on the inside now. And then I walk back to the running truck where Sasha still sleeps with her face pressed up against the cool window.
I put the truck in gear and watch a few bikers go by in a roar of power a block down.
I look back at Sasha and consider Harrison’s offer. He’d never be able to control this kid. Because she’s not a kid, she’s a killer. But…
I look down the street, past the courthouse and let my eyes fall on the Catholic school across the street from the city buildings.
… but Ford lives here. Two miles away, across from a huge park. The park has a pool. And an ancient trolley that rides down the middle of his goddamned street. His life right now is something out of a postcard.
Sasha loves Ford. Ford would take her, I know he would.
I stop at the red light and just stare at the school, trying to picture Sasha happy and normal.
I want that for her, I do. But… I need her too much to let her go.
The next time I look up, the light is green so I make a left, back towards the freeway. Where I will take Sasha to the last place on earth she wants to be.
That’s right, James. You’re an asshole. You have a chance to give her a new family, but no. You deny her that opportunity so she can play her part in your sick plan that will never work.
But the funny thing is… Tet isn’t concerned with any of those messy feelings. And so I let James slip away as the road passes by. James zones out and Tet takes over.
After all, he’s the one who gets things done.
He’s the one who keeps us alive.
And right now, staying alive is the only thing that matters.
Until it’s time to kill.
Chapter Fifty-Nine - Sasha
When James gets out of the truck I watch him from the crack of my eyelids. I know where we’re at. Fort Collins. Ford worked here last year. His friends live here. If I got out of this truck right now and went back to that bike shop, I could find him.
But James…
I’m worried about him. I wait until he’s out of sight and then I follow him down to the garage. I peek through the door as he has some kind of internal struggle. I know what he did here. Nick told me.
He killed his brother.
And the first time I heard that I felt there was no way I could like James, let alone love him. But I was wrong.
When it looks like he’s finished I trot silently back up the stairs, run down the path, and put myself back to sleep inside the truck.
When James comes back and we get back on the road, I know what he’s thinking as we wait for the light. The light is green and he’s still sitting there trying to come to terms with what he needs to do and what he should do.
He should take me to Ford and drop me off.
And I’m gonna be honest, a part of me really wants that. A part of me thinks if anyone can fix me—change me back into a little girl—then it’s Ford.
But I heave a silent sigh of relief when he finally turns and takes us north, away from the town. And when we get to the freeway thirty minutes later and we’re still going north, I have to come to terms with where we’re actually going.
Cheyenne.
He’s taking me home—except it’s not my home anymore.
I have not been back to Cheyenne since last Christmas Eve when my father was killed. I ended up in the hospital and then my grandparents came and picked me up and took me back to their ranch in northern Wyoming.
Ford came to see me the next day on Christmas. He drove all the way from Denver, he said. Drove all night long. Almost eight hours.
And when he found me sitting in the bay window seat in my room, he sat down next to me and made his promise.
His hand is cold from driving in that piece-of-shit Bronco he showed up in. I pull away, but he squeezes—hard.
I look up into his soft brown eyes and shake my head, trying not to cry.
“Sasha,” he says. “I swear to God, they will not get away with this. We will make this right.”
“How?” I ask him, wiping my hand across my nose to stop the sniffling. “You don’t have any idea who we’re dealing with. You don’t know anything. You’re not even a hunter.”
“You’re right, I’m not. But I am a consultant. And my partner, Merc, he is a hunter. And he’s still alive. I talked to him.”
I clench my fists together so hard my fingernails dig into my skin. “He should be dead!” I scream that last part. “He should be dead, not my dad!”
There’s a few moments of silence and I figure he’s on the defensive now. He’s not sure what to do with me. I count on that when I’m dealing with men. A small girl has very little power in a big man’s world. But I do what I can by keeping them off guard.
I look up at him expecting sympathy, but I get a sneer instead.
“Don’t play me, kid. I’m not in the fucking mood. I drove eight goddamned hours to be here and give you this.” He holds opens his fist to reveal a flash drive.
Yesterday Ford came into my dad’s gun shop at the antique mall with his friend Merc. And while Merc was buying guns, Ford bought some Christmas presents for his mom and friend.
The flash drive was my present to him.
Sorta.
The present was my last-ditch attempt to get rid of the flash drive before someone came looking for it.
I stifle a cry as I realize I might be the reason my father is dead right now. I reach for it but Ford closes his fist again and pulls away. “Not so fast.”
I stare at him.
“What is this?”
I blink my eyes innocently.
“On first glance, it’s a drive with photos on it. Of a girl and her father and all their crazy times together. But that’s not what it is, is it?”
I say nothing.
“If people are looking for this, you better fucking say so. You understand? Because people are dead, Sasha.”
“I know,” I cry. “I know. But I swear I didn’t know this would happen.”
“So what’s on here?” he asks.
“I don’t know. But I’m afraid to keep it now. Yesterday morning I saw two guys who I know are supposed to be dead. They were standing outside the ant
ique mall, smoking cigarettes. I knew… I just knew they were there looking for that drive. And I got scared and put it in with your gift-wrapped knife to get it away.”
“How the fuck did you know I wouldn’t hand it over to someone who shouldn’t have it?”
“I just knew.” I look up at Ford and silently plead with him to help me. “I just knew, Ford. You’re the only good person I’ve met in a very long time. And now my dad is gone and I have no one.”
He looks at my open door, then gets up and checks the hallway for my grandpa. My grandma can’t climb stairs and my grandpa isn’t much better. So they don’t come up here much. But Ford closes the bedroom door just the same and walks back over to me, not taking a seat this time. “Sasha, I’m taking this with me and I’m giving it to Merc. He works for these people. And something is very wrong here. But I’m not the right guy to help you, OK? I’m not the right guy.”
I realize I’ve been holding my breath.
“Merc is the one you need. So you’re gonna stay up here in the middle of who-gives-a-fuckville and keep your head down and your eyes open. If you see anyone, Sasha—and I do mean anyone—you use this phone.”
He hands it over. It’s one of those cheap ones you can buy at Wal-Mart that all the hunters have to keep in touch without the Company knowing.
“There’s only one number on there. You call Merc if you see anything and he’ll tell you what to do. When I leave here I’ll stop off at his place and we’ll have a chat. Then he’ll get in touch with you. But no matter what happens, Sasha”—Ford pauses to make sure I’m listening—“no matter what happens, you do not tell anyone about this drive and you do not tell anyone about me coming here today. Do you understand?”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
And like it or not. Ford was right. He’s the wrong guy to handle this.
But so is Merc.
Because James… James is the only guy who can handle this.
Chapter Sixty - James
“Quit that. You’re driving me nuts.”
“What?” I ask as I chew on my thumbnail, wishing I could have a smoke. I ran out forty miles ago and there were no stops on the highway. And now that we’re in Cheyenne, I’m nervous as all hell.
“Just stop for cigarettes, for Pete’s sake. I’m the one who should be nervous. This is my home, not yours.”
I look at her as we stop at the red light. “Why would you be nervous?”
“Well.” She looks out the window. “We’re going to the Roundhouse, right?”
That’s the name of the antique mall her dad sold Company guns out of. “Yeah. You expecting something important to be there, Smurf?”
Because I am. And that’s what’s got me nervous.
“Not exactly.”
I don’t know what that means, but a horn honks behind me and I look up to find the light has turned green. I ease forward and then take the first right past the railroad tracks. The old-timey train station is on the right side of this road and on the left are historical warehouse buildings that have been re-purposed into antique stores.
The Roundhouse is massive and it’s on a corner one street up.
Sasha lets out a deep breath.
Fuck. I hope to hell this is not a mistake. I pull the truck around the back of the building and park next to a giant green dumpster and cut the engine.
“Well,” I say as we sit in silence for a moment. “Ready to go inside?”
I turn my head to look at her and she’s got wide eyes. “Do I need to be ready for something?”
“You tell me.”
“Have you been in here before?”
I shake my head at her. “Never. Never been to this town before, I told you that.”
“I wasn’t sure if that was true or not. It’s seems unlikely that you never stopped by here for something.”
“This depot isn’t that old, Sasha. The gunrunner for the western guys used to be in Arizona.”
“Oh.” She nods and takes a deep breath. “That makes sense, I guess. We used to live out of the RV and just sell at gun shows.”
We open our doors at the same time and get out of the truck. I point to the back door and we head that direction. When we get there I hurry a little to open it for her and she scoots inside without another word.
Please, I pray, don’t let this be a mistake.
We enter into a back room and I have no idea where I’m going. Merc just said to park in back and go through the door.
I don’t need to worry. The Smurf leads the way. There’s aisle after aisle of tall industrial-sized shelving like you see in a big box store, but Sasha goes up two aisles, walks down one until we get to an intersection, and then makes a left. At the end of this aisle is another door. “Where we going?” I ask her as she heads for the door.
“My dad’s booth,” she says, cool as they come.
Of course. Whenever I come to the Roundhouse to meet mercenaries, I always hit the dead father’s booth first.
The door has a lock with one of those silver punch pads above the knob. Sasha punches in a code and sure enough, it opens.
I follow her through and we are in another storeroom. Only this one is filled with weapons.
I hear the tell-tale cock of a shotgun and I’ve got my Five-SeveN out and pointing at Merc’s face before he can laugh.
“You dumbfuck.” He puts his hands up and starts waving the gun around like an idiot. “Don’t shoot me, bro! Don’t shoot me, bro!”
I walk over and grab the gun from his hands. “It’s don’t taze me, you idiot. Not shoot me.”
“Whatever,” he says, taking out a smoke and handing me one. “Same shit.” He pulls out a light and offers it to me. I suck on the cancer stick and let the nic run through my veins. Jesus. Never has a cigarette felt so good.
Merc lights his up too and then takes his own drag of relief. “So, what the fuck?” He’s laughing and puffing at the same time. “You still have this runt with you? Jesus. You have more patience than me.”
Sasha kicks him in the shin. “Asshole.”
Merc bends over and rubs his leg like it hurts and then grabs Sasha by the waist, hoists her over his head, and he’s about to body-slam her on a stack of boxes when I start to freak out.
“Dude!” I yell. “Do not fuck with my Smurf.”
He flips her over, ignoring her screams, and then plops her down on the ground feet first.
“I’m kidding, you assholes. Jesus Christ. Lighten up. I’m the only one with a sense of humor here.”
“OK, what’s the plan?” I’m ready to get this show on the road.
“We’re still waiting. Shouldn’t be too long though.”
“Then what?”
“Then”—he shrugs—“we play it by ear, I guess.”
“Do you have the file or what?” Sasha barks from a safe distance.
“What file?” I ask, looking at her, then back to Merc. They stare each other down. “What. Fucking. File?”
Merc points his cigarette at Sasha. “I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut about that file.”
“I have,” she sneers back. “But I’m with him now,” she says, pointing to me. “And I want him to know about it. So my silence is over.” She pauses for a beat. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Damn. Assassin Smurf is back. I love Assassin Smurf. “What fucking file?” I ask again while Merc decides if he has a problem with that. Because of course, even if he did, it’s too late now. Sasha has let me in.
Finally. After carting her midget ass all over the Wild West, I’m in.
Merc lets out a long breath and then does the little this-is-only-between-you-and-me gesture with his pointer finger. “We got the fucking file.”
“Have had it the whole time, actually.”
I look over at Sasha. “You had the file?”
She smiles. “No. I gave it to Ford and he gave it to Merc.”
I look at Merc. “You had the fucking file? And you let me chase after Harper trying to ge
t it? Does Nick know this shit?”
“Is he here?” Sasha asks.
I look over at Sasha again. I’m getting a bad feeling now.
“This is not the file you’re looking for,” Merc says, waving his hand like he’s Obi-Wan Kenobi. But then his laugh stops and his smile fades. “This is something else. Something…” He looks over at Sasha. “Bigger. It’s much bigger. There’s two files, James. Ford and I got it open after Sasha gave it to him last year. And it’s all money, brother. Accounts, man. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of secret money accounts.”
“Company money?”
Merc takes a long drag on his smoke and then blows out rings. “Yeah. Your precious Company has holdings everywhere, man.”
“Where the hell did it come from?”
He looks at Sasha and I turn my head as well. She’s got a grin on her face. But it’s not one of satisfaction or amusement. It’s nerves. “Spill, Smurf.”
“My dad was drunk the night before that Christmas Eve job. I knew he had something important. He said he was going to California for a day the week before. He left me at home. Alone. He never does that. He takes me to my grandparents when he has out-of-town business. So I knew something was wrong that day. And when he came back, he had a flash drive.”
“He didn’t go to California,” Merc says, interrupting the story. “Ford and I tracked him. He went to the Caymans and visited every bank in Georgetown.”
“He was late,” Sasha says sadly. “He didn’t get back until the next day. I stayed home and worried the whole time.”
“He set it up to steal all their money.”
I laugh. “Define all.”
“All. Except private funds, which I’m sure, from the lifestyle Nick describes, are still considerable.”
“Fucking Nick. I’ll kill that asshole for sending Harper away with the wrong file.”
“I’m not sure Nick knows, James.”
“So what’s on that file? The file he gave Harper. I assumed it was just names and shit.”
