Naya’s dark eyes widened. “You mean you robbed people?”
Angus had known she’d be shocked, but the expression on her face still made him chuckle. “Told you I wasn’t always a nice guy. We didn’t hurt nobody, though. I promise.”
“Okay,” she said, but she sounded uncertain.
“We just did it for the cash, is all,” he said as he remembered driving down the highway.
His hands had tightened on the steering wheel as he glanced toward Axl, who was sitting in the passenger seat of the stolen Nissan Armada, flipping through the bills in his hand. His lips were pursed in concentration, and his dark, gray eyes focused on his task as he’d counted. The expression made the one-inch scar on his chin pucker slightly, and heat had simmered through Angus’s veins the way it had every time he looked at it.
The scar was a result of their mother’s fury, although Angus had no idea what she’d been pissed about—probably a whole lot of nothing—because he hadn’t been there when it happened. He’d been living with Brandy at the time, had only moved out a week or so before the incident. Axl had been around ten years old, and even though Angus hated the thought of leaving him to their mother’s devices, he’d convinced himself he’d stuck around long enough. Things with Brandy had been going well, and she’d been begging him to move in for weeks. Finally, he’d relented.
Only a week later, their bitch of a mother had gotten piss drunk and tossed an ashtray at Axl. The thing must have been cracked already, because even though it was thick, it had broken on impact, leaving a huge gash in his brother’s chin that had bled everywhere. The blood, of course, had infuriated their mother even more, forcing Axl to run from the trailer so she didn’t beat the shit out of him. He’d shown up at Brandy and Angus’s place less than an hour later, covered in blood. Not just his chin, but his neck and chest, his shirt soaked in red. The sight had made Angus feel like he’d been hit by a truck. He’d never forgotten that feeling, and he’d never forgiven himself for letting that happen, either.
Angus wrung the steering wheel like he was imagining it was their bitch of a mother’s neck and he was strangling her. Sometimes, he wished she’d survived the beating her boyfriend gave her and died in the fire instead. Nice and slow. She hadn’t, though, and she’d been long dead when the fire swept through the trailer. Still, Angus took comfort in the knowledge that if hell did exist, their mother was surely burning in it right now.
“We ain’t gonna make it on this.” Axl had shaken his head and shifted so he could shove the wad of cash in his pocket. “It ain’t enough.”
“We’ll figure somethin’ out.” Angus had to work to make his voice sound normal because he was still seething at the memory of what their mother had done. “Don’t you worry. Ain’t I always taken care of you?”
The words were automatic, but on the heels of the memory, they almost made Angus cringe. No, he hadn’t always taken care of Axl. Despite his best intentions. The scar on his brother’s chin was proof of that.
Axl had blown out a long breath and shoved his hand through his dirty blond hair. “Yeah. I know. I just don’t like the idea of bein’ stuck someplace with all this shit goin’ on. What if somebody realizes our papers ain’t real? What if we get sick?”
Angus swore and shook his head, his irritation at their mother giving way only to be replaced by annoyance at his brother. It had been Angus’s idea to get forged papers, and Axl hadn’t stopped worrying about it since they picked them up. Now that they were hours from home, Angus could tell his brother was even more anxious than before. It was dumb as shit as far as Angus was concerned. The people working the roadblocks weren’t going to look too closely because they didn’t really care who was coming or going as long as they stayed healthy, and Angus had no intention of getting anywhere near anyone who was sick.
“We ain’t gonna get sick,” he’d snapped. “Now, shut up ’bout that damn virus already. It’s all anybody’s talked about lately, and it’s annoyin’ as hell.”
He unwrapped his hand from the steering wheel so he could grab the can of dip sitting in the center console, frowning at how light it was. He’d known he was low before leaving Tennessee, but stopping for it hadn’t been a priority. They were driving a stolen car, after all, using gas they’d siphoned from other vehicles, and all he’d been able to think about was getting as many miles between himself and home before anyone got wise to what they’d done. Now he felt like kicking himself.
When Angus popped the lid off the can, he hadn’t been the least bit surprised to find it empty, but he still swore and tossed it to the floor at his brother’s feet. “Gotta stop.”
Axl frowned like he wasn’t thrilled by the idea, but as usual, said nothing.
Not bothering to put his turn signal on, Angus had pulled into the right lane, cutting a red sportscar off in the process and earning a few honks. The car behind them swerved into the lane Angus had just vacated and sped up, slowing when the two vehicles were side by side. The driver honked again and flipped them the bird. Angus had returned the gesture, barely glancing the guy’s way.
“Fucker,” he’d muttered under his breath.
The St. Louis Arch loomed in the distance, standing out even amidst the skyscrapers crowding the city. Angus had never seen it before, had only left Tennessee a couple times before now, but he barely looked at it. Unless it had tits or alcohol or nicotine, he didn’t give a shit, and architecture was pretty much at the bottom of a long list of things that meant nothing to him. He didn’t care how the buildings had gotten there or who’d made them, not before and especially not now. All he cared about was getting himself and his brother to safety before all hell broke loose.
Angus had slowed when he pulled off the highway, but barely paused at the stop sign before turning right. They’d left Tennessee in the middle of the night, and it was just past dawn, and the streets were still pretty empty. The gas station parking lot, too, was deserted when he pulled to a stop beside a pump and put the SUV in park. For a moment, Angus even thought the place might be closed, but then he caught sight of someone moving around in the building. One person. Alone.
He’d scanned the area again, looking back toward the street then over the parking lot, but the place was deserted. Not a single car or person in sight. It had given him an idea.
“Should get gas, too,” Angus told Axl as he’d turned the car off, leaving the keys in the ignition for a faster getaway. “You do that while I go inside.”
His brother, as usual, had obeyed without so much as batting his eye.
Angus stayed where he was while Axl climbed out, waiting until he was alone to reach under the driver’s seat. His skin brushed the cold steel of the gun, and he wrapped his fingers around it. He was looking around when he pulled it out, making sure Axl wasn’t paying attention before tucking the gun in the waistband of his pants. His brother might have been okay stealing his asshole boss’s truck and siphoning some gas, but Angus wasn’t a fool. Axl wouldn’t be on board with holding up a store.
Angus climbed from the truck, being sure to pull his shirt over the gun as he did, but Axl had been busy pumping the gas and hadn’t even glanced his way.
Good, Angus thought.
He’d looked around as he headed for the store, not because he was nervous about what he planned to do, but because he wanted to make sure he was prepared. Wanted to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Even something as small as a bum sleeping at the side of the building could mess things up, and Angus wanted to be certain he was ready for anything. Still, though, the area was clear and quiet. Perfect.
Not wanting to look suspicious, he didn’t pause when he reached the front door. He’d pulled it open, and a bell rang, and the woman behind the counter looked up as Angus stepped inside. He kept his expression neutral when their eyes met, giving a slight nod even as he sized her up. She was young—late twenties—and white. She wasn’t what he would have called fat, but she’d poured her body into clothes that were at least a size too s
mall, and the jeans hugged her like a second skin while the shirt stretched over the roll of fat at her midsection, which the too small pants emphasized. She had hair that was too red to be real, and eye makeup that was too dark and thick, and it was smeared under both eyes. She wasn’t unattractive, though, and had Angus been at a bar rather than a gas station, he probably would have even tried to pick her up despite the fact that she was at least ten years younger than he was.
Looking away, he walked to the back of the store as if going to get a drink, his gaze focused on the mirror mounted on the wall so he could see what the woman was doing. She’d gone back to flipping through a magazine—something that was full of juicy celebrity gossip, no doubt—and wasn’t watching him. Good.
When he’d reached the refrigerators, he opened one and grabbed something at random, barely paying attention to what he’d picked up, even slightly shocked when he looked down and realize it was one of those cold sugary coffee drinks from Starbucks. The thought of drinking it made his upper lip curl in disgust, but since he had no plan to do that, he rearranged his expression and headed back toward the front of the store.
On instinct, he grabbed a bag of pork rinds when he passed them, and the plastic crinkled, sounding loud in the silence. The girl didn’t bother looking up, though, and even when he put the drink and snack on the counter in front of her, she didn’t glance his way.
“Gimme three cans of Skoal,” Angus had said, pointing to the display at her back, “the one with the green label.”
She sighed and shut her magazine, and a picture of Hadley Lucas came into view. She’d been all done up, her strawberry blonde hair perfect and her makeup flawless, and dressed in a red evening gown that emphasized her bony frame. Her hand was on Brad Pitt’s arm, and she was staring up at him, smiling. The headline read, Exposed! Hadley and Brad hit the town behind Angelina’s back!
Angus looked away from the picture. He didn’t have any more use for celebrity gossip than he did for religion.
The woman’s back was to him when he took a quick look around. Axl had finished pumping the gas, but he was nowhere in sight—he’d probably climbed back into the Nissan—and the parking lot was still empty. The road, too.
Now was his chance.
Angus pulled his gun and aimed it at the back of woman’s head, saying nothing, shocked by how steady his hand was. She took longer than necessary to get the dip, and she didn’t have a clue a gun was pointed at her until she’d turned to face him.
Her eyes went wide, and the cans of Skoal fell from her hand, clattering to the floor.
“Pick ’em up,” he said.
The woman knelt, retrieved the cans, and put them on the counter. Her hands were trembling, her bottom lip, too, and her eyes brimmed with tears. She blinked several times, and a drop fell from her right eye, running through her heavy makeup and leaving a dark trail on her cheek.
“Now, listen here and listen good,” Angus said. “I ain’t gonna hurt you. I never killed nobody, and to be honest, I doubt I got the stomach for it. But I need whatever money you got, and I know you ain’t gonna just hand it over, so this is what I gotta do. Understand?”
She’d nodded.
“Good.” Angus waved the gun toward the register. “Open it on up and give it all to me. Now.”
Her hands were raised slightly, but not all the way. It was as if she thought she should put them up but wasn’t sure since he hadn’t told her to. In truth, Angus knew she wasn’t going to try anything. Knew she wouldn’t risk her life for this shit job, especially with everything else going on in the world.
Her hands trembled harder when she reached for the register, and she paused to clench them into fists.
“Just take a deep breath,” Angus had told her, softening his tone. He was an ass, he couldn’t deny that, but this woman hadn’t done anything wrong, and he wanted to reassure her. “It’s all gonna be over real fast.”
Her head bobbed again, and she uncurled her fingers. They were still trembling when she pressed a button, and the drawer popped open with a ding.
“Grab a bag,” Angus said. “Put it all in there.”
She glanced his way for a second before complying, swiping up a white plastic bag with the words Thank You printed on it several times in red. It crinkled, and she swallowed like the sound terrified her, then she started grabbing the cash out of the drawer and shoving it in.
“Put the dip in there, too,” Angus told her.
He’d been in more trouble than he could remember in his life, but it was the first time he’d ever held anyone up at gunpoint, and it shocked him how calm he sounded. Like he’d done this a million times before. Like the thought of scaring the poor woman behind the counter didn’t bother him in the least—which wasn’t true. This woman was like him. Struggling to make ends meet, just wanting to live her life without having to worry, and a part of him hated himself for doing this. Not enough to make him stop, but enough that he wanted to reassure her.
The cashier did as she was told, shoving the Skoal in with the money, then tying the bag shut when Angus ordered her to. She was just about to hand it over when the bell chimed. She froze, her hand extended and the bag swaying in the air between them, and her gaze moved to the door.
Angus kept the gun aimed at her when he glanced over his shoulder where he found Axl standing just inside the door with his mouth hanging open. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Shit.” Angus leaned across the counter and snatched the bag out of the woman’s hand, not looking back at his brother. “What the fuck does it look like?” He kept the gun aimed at the woman as he headed for the door, walking backward. His focus was on the cashier and not his brother when he said, “Get to the car. Get it started. Now!”
Behind him, Axl swore, but a second later the bell chimed again, telling Angus he’d obeyed.
Angus kept backing up, his gun still aimed at the woman, and when he finally reached the door, he grinned. He still had the gun up when he said, “Pleasure doin’ business with you.”
Then he shoved the gun in his waistband and pushed the door open.
The chime bid him farewell as he dashed out of the store and jogged toward the Nissan.
Axl was behind the wheel, the engine already running, when Angus ripped the passenger door open. He’d jumped in, pulling it shut behind him, and called out, “Drive!”
Axl did as he was told, slamming his foot on the gas, and the tires had squealed against the pavement as they peeled out of the parking lot. The street was just as deserted when they sped down it, and the on ramp was only thirty feet away. Not that Angus noticed. He’d been too busy ripping into the bag.
A can of Skoal fell to the floor when he pulled the cash out, but he ignored it and started counting, grinning as he did. “Over five hundred.”
“Fuck, Angus!” Axl yelled, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. “What the hell was you thinkin’?”
Angus had snorted in response. “Relax. Nobody was ’round, and they ain’t gonna bother lookin’ for us. Why would they? The world’s goin’ to shit. The police got better things to do than chase after us when we didn’t even hurt nobody.”
Axl had glared at him as he switched lanes, hitting the gas until the speedometer touched eighty. “You’re dumb as shit, you know that?”
“Just wait.” Angus shoved the cash in the glovebox. “You’re gonna be kissin’ my ass here soon.”
Axl grumbled something under his breath that Angus couldn’t hear, but he ignored his brother, too busy pulling the two cans of Skoal from the bag. Once he had, he shoved them in the glovebox with the money, then tossed the torn plastic bag over his shoulder.
“Thanks to me—” Angus slammed the glovebox closed then bent down so he could scoop up the can of dip that had fallen on the floor. When he was back up, he said, “We got money to buy any supplies we might need. Should find us a campin’ store. Stock up on survival gear.”
All his brother could do was shake his head, but A
ngus didn’t care, and he wasn’t done either.
He broke the label on the dip and popped the lid, scooping a generous portion out. He’d get more at their next stop.
Once the tobacco was securely in place, he’d waved to the road in front of them and said, “Pull over in a couple exits. I wanna hit ’nother place while it’s still early and folks ain’t out yet.”
Axl shot him an incredulous look. “You gotta be shittin’ me.”
“I ain’t, and you better do it,” Angus growled as he tossed the can of dip into the center console.
Axl ground his teeth, but back then he’d done whatever his brother told him to, and he’d obediently hit his turn signal and slowed, preparing to pull into the right lane so he could get off the interstate.
Angus smiled at the memory, not because he was proud of what he’d done, though. No, he hadn’t hurt that first girl or anyone at the three other stores they’d held up—Axl had helped him with the others even though he’d protested—but Angus had still scared the shit out of those people, and for that, he was sorry. He was smiling because he remembered something he hadn’t thought about in a long time.
They’d picked Vivian up on Route 66 the following day, and it hadn’t taken her long to get suspicious. Their gear was too fancy—they’d stopped at a camping store just before leaving Missouri—and the car too nice, and she’d started asking questions. She wasn’t dumb, and eventually she’d figured out that they were the ones who’d held up the stores. Axl could have thrown his brother under the bus, especially since he’d had the hots for Vivian and was wanting to get on her good side, but he’d acted like he’d been just as complicit in the decision to rob the stores as Angus had. Axl had been loyal like that. Always.
Naya stared up at him as they walked, shock brimming in them. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Angus chuckled. “Told you I was an asshole back then.”
Broken World | Novel | Angus Page 37