Page 54 of Existential
“And what?” she yells in return. “Got shot to hell, as well?”
“Maybe this isn’t the time to discuss this,” Dog interjects, placing a hand to my chest.
His calming action makes me realize I’ve now got Mel crowded against the wall, threatening, overbearing. Everything I’m not with my sisters … sister.
“I’m sorry.” I force myself to turn away before I blindly do something I regret. “How did you find me?”
Three weeks I’ve been on the run, paying for everything in cash, keeping my phone off unless I need it, and never staying anywhere more than two nights until now. Fuck, I can’t even remember how long I’ve been here.
“What day is it?” I ask before they get a chance to answer my first question.
“Thursday,” Dog says.
I drop to the side of the bed, eyes closed, forefinger and thumb pressed to my forehead. “What day did that tanker roll over on the I-70?” Seeing the news story play on the tiny TV in the upper corner of the liquor store is the last thing I remember.
“Monday.”
I’ve lost three and a half days. No wonder they caught up to me. But, if they’re here … Jessup can’t be too far behind. Fuck. Fucking fuck.
I shoot off the bed, taking both of them by surprise. Mel clutches the bag of rubbish tighter to her chest, assuming I’m going for the drugs. Dog reaches behind to grip his piece. I lift my hands to placate both of them.
“We gotta get the hell out of here.” I search frantically for my clothes. Splitting a scene isn’t all that nondescript in just your boxer briefs.
“We’ve got time,” Dog says. “It’s”—he checks his watch—“a bit after four. We’ll hang around until it’s dark and head off then.”
“Nope.” I hop on the spot, tugging my jeans on. “Gotta go before then. If you’re here, then that asshole’s probably already got eyes on the place.”
“What asshole?” Mel tosses the contents of an overflowing ashtray in the bag.
“Damn it.” I hadn’t told anyone about Jessup. “I’ve got some explainin’ to do, but first we need to—” I spin and lunge for the trashcan as round two makes its exit.
“Fuck man,” Dog complains with his forearm to his nose. “I hope you ain’t gonna do this the whole way home. I’m not stoppin’ if you are.”
“Thanks,” I sass from my position on the floor, a wave of cramp washing through the marrow of my bones.
“Any time.”
Mel ties off the bag that’s bulging to capacity, and sets it down by the door. I eyeball it; sure I can spot the crack inside if I look long enough. Fuck, that was a hard score. It seems such a waste …
“Donovan Jessup,” she says quietly as she takes a seat in the armchair beside me. “That’s what you’re goin’ to explain, right?”
What the hell? “How do you know his name?”
“Idiot stalked the clubhouse couple of weeks after you split. Crackers returned the favor and put eyes on him.”
I snort a laugh, stretching my legs out with my back against the side of the bed. “Sounds like him.”
“They noticed he was cycling through your usual haunts. So they put two and two together and dragged him in.”
The smile fades from my face. “What did Jessup say?”
“That he’d been blackmailing you, but you refused to fess up what he wanted, and as a consequence he got dragged over the coals by his bosses.” She smirks. “From what I hear, he was pretty damn pissed at you, big brother.”
I bet.If only I could have been there to see the look on the bastard’s face. “What did the guys say to that?”
“Crackers wants to know why you never brought it to them, as does Murphy. And Digits …” She glances over at Dog.
“What?”