Dalton shrugged, and in it, Chad saw his resignation. “It is what it is.”
Letting go of the boy, Chad’s gaze swung to the other guy, the one who’d been driving. Older, average height, and bald under his black baseball cap. A sleeve of tattoos covered his right arm, while an inked eagle wrapped its wings around his left forearm.
“You, I don’t know.”
“Nor do you need to,” the guy snorted. “Spread your legs. Slim says we have to frisk you.”
“Ah, come on, Jack. It’s Richardson. He’s harmless.”
The guy threw Dalton a lethal stare, and Chad spread his arms and legs out, mostly to avoid whatever argument might ensue.
Jack patted down his chest, thighs, and calves. He wasn’t even Chad’s height, but the way his shirt stretched across his chest implied the guy could do some damage if he wanted to.
“No wire. No weapons either,” he mumbled, stuffing his hands in each of Chad’s pockets.
Chad pushed him away. “Don’t get so friendly.”
“Just doing my job. Slim said no cell phones.”
Dalton ran a hand over his head. “Sorry, man. He’s all freaked out about Garcia going rogue, ya know. Especially with it being Lai—”
“Don’t say her name,” Chad shot back.
Dalton stepped back at the sheer violence in his tone. “Yeah, whatever.” The kid put more distance between them and hung his head a little. “I’m just saying, Slim’s on edge.”
The town had retaliated after Laila’s attack. They’d turned on Slim, closing doors that had once been open. His most loyal patrons now finding other sources to buy from. It was likely the only reason he’d offered Chad the deal. In his sick, twisted mind, he probably thought if he could secure Chad’s forgiveness, maybe others would follow.
Jack put out his palm. “Your phone.”
Still hot, Chad pulled out his phone and slammed it in Jack’s hand hard enough to hurt. “Feel better?” he asked, his voice a calm fury.
Jack tucked it in his pocket and jerked his head toward the car. “Get in.”
A bolt of trepidation passed through Chad. He’d been told the exchange would happen here.
Dalton must have noticed. He edged closer and whispered, “You sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure.” Chad took a hesitant step toward the vehicle, unsure what fate would bring once he entered it. But fear wasn’t an option, not when Slim could sense it like blood on raw flesh.
He pulled open the door and tucked himself into the back seat.
The others slammed themselves inside too, the car jolting into drive a few seconds later. Chad silently wrung his hands, while Jack pulled out his own phone.
“We’re good,” he said into it, then paused. “No. Nothing suspicious at all. There was a blue Chevy and an old Toyota in the parking lot, but they both looked abandoned.”
Chad pushed down a wave of nausea. Cooper couldn’t have followed him. He would have noticed. Just to be sure, he twisted around, searching behind him for any sign of headlights. Nothing. Just black stillness over the car’s trunk.
He turned back around and met Jack’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“You want to talk to him?” Another pause. “Okay.” Jack passed the phone back to Chad.
Forcing his fingers to still, Chad gripped the phone and put the receiver to his ear. “This is a hell of a welcome party,” he said as calmly as he could.
“Just a little test that you seemed to pass just fine.” Slim paused. “Sorry about Laila.”
Flashes of her injuries scoured his brain. The bruises on her cheek, her mangled wrist, the thirty staples required to close up her side. All Slim’s doing. Chad never knew he could feel so much hatred. “Are you?”
“Of course I am!” he yelled, for once not hiding behind his polite shell. “She’s practically Joe’s daughter and beloved in this town. You think I like being in this position? Garcia saw the unmarked car and freaked out. I told him to stand down, but he acted without my knowledge or my consent.”
Chad swallowed the bile in his throat. “If I didn’t believe that, you would already have a bullet in your back.”
“Be careful, Chad. I know you’re upset, but be careful.”
“This was your deal, Slim.” Chad pulsed with fury, his voice a shout into the phone. “So, you tell me, are we doing it or not?”
The pause was long enough that Chad could sense Slim’s irritation on the other line. That black-hearted arrogance that made him think he was beyond human. Invincible.
“Yeah, we’re doing it,” he finally said, and Chad felt his entire chest deflate.
“Good.” Unable to keep his emotions restrained any longer, Chad shoved the phone back to Jack.
A crisp pop echoed through the car, and Dalton reached back with an ice-cold aluminum can. “One for the road. I figured you might need it.”
“Thanks.” Chad took the beer in his right hand and stared at the foam bubbling from the opening.
Jack slammed on his breaks and jerked the car to the right, cursing as Chad slid across the back seat and slammed into the door, the beer spilling over his fingers and onto the carpeted floorboard.
“Sorry. I can’t see crap on these back roads.”
Chad shook his hand, flinging droplets in all directions. “Then turn on your brights. I don’t plan on dying before Garcia does.”
The man eyed him through the mirror, and Chad lifted his can in a toast.
Vengeance was only a few miles away.
CHAPTER 43
Chad’s back straightened when Jack pulled off the road onto a tire-worn path behind the lake. The city owned this stretch of two hundred acres, and it basically sat untouched, except during the fall when hunters descended.
The small sedan bucked up and down over the rivets worn by rain and wind, skidding once, until the tires caught and surged them forward. Chad gripped his still-full can of beer, wishing his stomach would stop churning. It wasn’t just the anticipation causing it, but also the foul smell of cheap alcohol that had permeated the car.
He scanned the woods through the darkened windows. Nothing for miles. No lights except the faint glow of the half moon. Chad slid his hand into his pocket, gripped the key fob he’d been so graciously allowed to keep, and hoped when all the dust settled, he was still left standing.
“We’re here,” Jack said, shoving the car into park.
“Good, ’cause I’m ready to hurl.” Dalton practically fell out of the car and braced his knees. The kid had always had a weak stomach, and he’d drained at least two cans during the ten-minute drive.
Easing the door open, he took his time exiting the car, giving both Jack and Dalton a head start. Chad casually followed, allowing the liquid to subtly pour a trail out behind him as he walked.
Jack and Dalton continued to move at a quicker pace, not because they seemed nervous, just eager to have their part finished. He could tell they felt sheltered, protected. Chad scanned the trees again, and a shiver ran down his spine. If Slim wanted to, he could hide all their bodies out here, and no one would find them for years.
The trees gave way to a clearing where two more vehicles were parked: Slim’s Jag with its trunk open, and a large pickup with two portable lights casting a circular glow.
He spotted Slim immediately, sitting on the edge of the Jag’s hood, his arms crossed, talking to Bruno, the same guy who had originally contacted Chad about making a deal.
The aluminum crackled in his fist, and he forced his hand to relax.
Slim stood when Jack and Dalton approached, watching him lag behind.
Chad slowed, lifting his empty can to his mouth for a brief second before lowering it. “Where is he?”
“I’ll tell you once the deal is done and I have my money.” Slim stepped forward, and Chad had to fight every molecule inside him not to strike hard and fast and without mercy. Instead, he took his fury out on the can, smashing it in his fist before chucking it as far as he could.
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“Why the secrecy, Slim? I thought we were family? Brothers?” He pounded his chest. “You said I was one of your own. And now you’re protecting him?” Accusation rolled through his tone, heavy enough that even the guys around them tensed.
Slim eased back, his jaw twitching as if he were forcing his teeth to unclench. “I really hope you didn’t come here planning to do something stupid.”
Chad saw a glint of metal in Slim’s jeans, his hand easing toward the pistol, ready to defend if needed. “I’m unarmed, Slim. I just want my day of reckoning.”
Slim’s hand relaxed, and he crossed his arms again, the snake tattoo bouncing as if deliberating on what to do next. He gestured his chin toward his Jag. “Well, come on, then.”
Chad held his breath. This was it.
A tree branch snapped, and in a fraction of a second, all three men—Slim, Jack, and Bruno—had 9mms pointed at Chad’s head. Dalton stood like a deer at the end of a barrel, his eyes wide with fear.
Heart pounding, Chad raised his hands. “Whatever you think this is, I had nothing to do with it.” It wasn’t supposed to go down this way. They were supposed to wait until the drugs exchanged hands.
“Don’t shoot!”
Those two words sent Chad’s world into slow motion.
Cooper.
I won’t stand by and watch you self-destruct, he had promised. And Cooper kept his promises, even the ones that would get them both killed.
He emerged from the branches, arms up, his eyes fixed on the gun now pointed at his chest. “I’m just here to take Chad home before he does something he’ll regret.”
“Risky move. You know I don’t like loose ends.” Slim’s finger pressed in on the trigger. He moved the gun between Chad and Cooper as if deciding which was the bigger threat.
“Coop, go home. This doesn’t concern you.” His own safety he could risk, but not Cooper’s. Not the man who’d stood by him. Who treated him like a brother. Who now stood ready to take a bullet for him.
“The deal’s off.” Slim backed away, his gun a shield in front of him. “Bruno, Jack, shut it down!”
But before anyone could move, a black metal cylinder rolled into the circle, bouncing over the tufts of grass, and then halted.
A huge bomb-like blast rocked Chad backward, a flash of light and smoke clouding his vision, then another, and he felt the sting of shrapnel pound against his flesh. Two gunshots fired, one after the other, barely perceivable through the continued assault around them. Chad slammed to the ground so hard the air was knocked from his lungs, his head spun, and through the chaos, he’d lost sight of Cooper. Calling his name, Chad crawled, clawing the ground in search of his friend.
Feet pounded the grass, shouts echoed commands to seize and get down on the ground. Knowing the commands weren’t for him, he stumbled to his feet, barely taking two steps before another gun fired. Chad dropped again. This time, he didn’t fall on the ground, but on a still body, one too large to be anyone’s but his roommate’s.
Chad blinked, his vision still impaired from the blast of light. But even in the haze, his heart knew those big, lifeless hands could only belong to his friend.
“No,” he whispered, but blood was already soaking Cooper’s sleeve and rolling down to his elbow. “No . . .” His whole life, Chad had been told he was unworthy, worthless, a mistake. And yet Laila, Katie, and now Cooper had sacrificed themselves just to love him. Just to see him stay clean.
Chad dropped his head to his friend’s chest, gripping the man’s shirt in anguish. He still wasn’t used to praying, but all he could think in that moment was that he hadn’t told Cooper what he’d learned. He hadn’t shown him the freedom he’d found.
Tears spilled down his cheeks. Please, Lord, not yet.
Why did Cooper follow him? Why did he have to be so stubborn and loyal?
“Get off me. You weigh more than a pregnant elephant.”
The voice spilled through him, converting his desperation into shocked laughter. He was alive. Chad palmed Cooper’s cheeks, kissed his friend’s forehead, and continued to laugh hysterically.
“Have you lost your damn mind?” Cooper shoved him hard before frantically wiping his forehead. Then he locked up in visible agony, gripping his right shoulder.
Chad lunged to help him.
“Kiss me again and I’ll deck you,” Cooper threatened, rolling to his knees.
The air around them had stilled. No more blasts or gunfire. Even the smoke had cleared. He stood, his body shaking from the flood of emotions and adrenaline. It took several seconds before he could process the scene in front of him.
SWAT teams swarmed in all directions, shouting commands and securing the narcotics. Through his hazing vision, Chad could see Agent Edwards, the lead on their sting operation, talking to one of his men. A joint venture, an agreement forged in the aftermath of tragedy, and a risk he’d had to take in order to protect his family and his future.
Slim lay face down in the grass next to his men, their hands cuffed behind their backs, while at least seven cops pulled bags of cocaine, marijuana, and meth from Slim’s vehicles.
He never saw it coming. Never even considered that a spineless alcoholic could outsmart him. Chad had once told Laila that a man with nothing to lose was the most dangerous person on earth. He was wrong. A man with everything to lose was a far greater enemy.
Agent Edwards tipped his head and smiled. He whispered something to the guy on his left and strolled over. “Nice acting job, Chad. I thought we were done when they sent the car for you.”
Chad pulled his keys from his pocket and detached the fob they’d given him. A drone. A silent, tracking twelve-inch drone had saved his life. “I guess it’s good we had a back-up plan. Although, I don’t recall it including flash grenades.”
“He pulled a gun. We had to react.”
“Those things hurt like hell,” he said, rubbing a palm over his sore chest.
“That was the stinger grenade. It’s supposed to debilitate the suspect.”
“It works,” Chad deadpanned. His eyes fixed on the terrified face of young Dalton. “So, what happens now?”
“We let the law do what it does best.”
“Dalton’s just a kid. He didn’t even have a weapon.”
“Don’t worry. Slim is our target, and I imagine with the plea bargains we’ll offer these other guys, Slim is going to be locked away for a long, long time.”
“What about Garcia?”
“My guys picked him up an hour ago. Idiot used his credit card.”
Relief pulsed through every vein. “So you definitely got what you needed?”
“And then some,” Edwards said, smiling. “Thank you.”
“Thank my wife. I did it for her.”
Cooper moaned from the ground, still clutching his arm. “What do you mean, your wife?” His arm was a sickening red, blood still streaming from the bullet wound in his shoulder.
Eyeing him with concern, Edwards pulled a radio from his belt. “We need an ambulance. Gunshot wound. White male, two hundred pounds.”
Cooper attempted to stand and almost toppled over.
Chad immediately reached for him. “Whoa. Just sit, okay? You’re hurt.” He couldn’t hide the rumble in his voice, the buried temper. “And you’re lucky you are, ’cause if not, I’d hit you myself for being so stupid!” Emotion choked him when he looked at his friend. Dark smudges lay under Cooper’s eyes and coated his jaw. Utter exhaustion lined every inch of his body.
Barely conscious, yet still attempting to get to his feet, Cooper clasped Chad with his good arm. “I just took a bullet for you. A little gratitude would be nice,” he grumbled, but his voice sounded weak and was beginning to slow. “Or at least the truth. Since you’re not on the ground in handcuffs, I assume you were a part of this masquerade.”
Resigned that Cooper would do more damage if he fought to keep him seated, Chad helped him to his feet. “Laila came up with the plan herself. The separation, the drinkin
g, the drugs. We had to make Slim believe I could be bought again.”
More strangled curses came, mostly Cooper’s fury at Chad for keeping secrets and letting him worry for two weeks.
Chad stifled another round of laughter. It wasn’t funny, but seeing his friend turn back into his cantankerous, bull-headed self brought a wave of relief. “Sorry. I didn’t exactly anticipate you stalking me like a jealous ex-girlfriend.”
Despite Cooper’s protest, Chad wrapped an arm around his waist, steadying him. His face had gone pale, and Chad could feel him swaying.
“By the way, you owe me a Dr Pepper,” Cooper said right before he collapsed.
EPILOGUE
Laila stared at the shimmering water, the wind off the ocean barely moving her sprayed hair. She wore it down, like Chad had insisted, the weight heavy across her bare shoulders. The ivory dress clung to her hips, light and airy as the wind around her. She traced a finger along its beading, watching it sparkle in the afternoon light.
“It’s show time,” Katie said, her own dress spilling out behind her, ice blue and empire cut to match Laila’s. She handed her a bouquet of wildflowers—bright, cheerful, and so unassuming it made Laila smile.
She gripped the stems with her good hand, the other still trapped in the cast she had to wear for a few more weeks. Katie had wrapped it with lace, a sad attempt to make it work with her wedding dress.
Laila stepped off the wooden bridge, her eyes fixed on the small white arch Chad stood under. His white linen shirt blew around him, his tan legs exposed beyond the hem of his khaki shorts. His feet were bare, like hers.
A true beach wedding, the one she’d always wanted.
Katie took her place in front, and Laila watched as she walked slowly down the makeshift aisle they’d created with folding chairs.
She followed when Katie passed the first row, and soon their forty guests rose to their feet, each smiling at her, some with teary eyes that matched her own. She turned, and just a few feet ahead stood her future. Dark hair, bright-green eyes, and a sheen of tears.
Cooper looked almost as choked up as her husband-to-be, his arm still in a sling. White, to match his shirt. Laila had thought he and Katie would kill each other when she asked them to help plan the event. But after multiple passive-aggressive comments and averted glares, they’d found a way to call a truce, working together to give Laila and Chad the wedding they never had the first time.
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