Better Off Dead : A Lucy Hart, Deathdealer Novel (Book One)
Page 15
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Things ran smoothly. No more than ten minutes after Shirley left her off at the bus terminal, Lucy boarded the bus to San Bernardino. It wasn’t crowded, so she had an hour to sit and think, without anyone trying to strike up a conversation with her.
Every so many miles there would be a sign, counting down the miles to journey’s end. At first those miles were trudging down far too slow. It made Lucy feel more and more impatient. But by the time the signs started ticking down from fifty, Lucy started getting nervous. Butterflies from hell fluttered in her stomach, and her mouth felt as dry as the bottom of Death Valley.
But why am I getting nervous? she thought, chewing absently on one of her ragged nails. I can do this. That sleaze bag is toast. After I’m done with him...
But as each mile marker declared San Bernardino closer and closer, her nervous stomach, and her fidgeting hands got worse and worse.
Get a grip! Lucy pinned her shaking hands under her arms. This is nothing. I can do this... I’m going to do this...
It’s illegal, the mean little voice whispered.
So? Lucy shot back. So is what he’s been up to. Otherwise I wouldn’t be going to blackmail him with it.
Yeah, but... Lucy held her breath, waiting for the mean little voice to finish. What if he decides to pay you off with a bullet in the brain?
Lucy’s entire body turned cold, every molecule in her stiffening.
A bullet in the brain...
She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. Sure, he’s a crooked lawyer, probably deals with thugs and hoods and... and gangsters? Lucy gulped at the thought of any of those kinds of people. But murder? He’s a lawyer, not a hit-man.
Lucy finally relaxed enough to shift in her seat and crack her aching neck. Her arm and head were starting to hurt again too.
He’s like Daddy. Lucy scrunched her eyes closed at how wrong those words felt rolling around in her brain. He’s just a cheap, tacky version of... of him. Yeah, sure. He’s immoral and should be in jail with Daddy, but that doesn’t mean he’d...
“Kill me...” Even as she said it, she couldn’t dispel the uneasiness, the uncertainty. Sure Daddy cheated the IRS, and probably his clients. And he more than likely really did deal in slave labor. Lucy still couldn’t wrap her heart and mind around the fact that her father had sold PEOPLE. But Daddy couldn’t have... he just couldn’t kill someone. So crooked Frank Luvici wouldn’t either.
Of course he wouldn’t, princess.
Lucy was getting pretty sick of that mean little voice.