Things We Never Got Over

by Lucy Score

  Mr. and Mrs. Loy were standing in the pasture surveying the damage. Mrs. Loy was huddled up in an oversize flannel jacket and smoking a small cigar. Mr. Loy came right at us.

  “Can you believe this? Some son of a bitch smashed through the fence and then drove back out again!”

  “Grab the flashlight in the glove box,” I told Lou.

  “Naomi!” I called the second my feet hit the ground. The frosty grass crunched under my boots.

  There was no answer.

  Lou flashed the light into the pasture, and we followed the tracks. “Looks like they stopped here before driving back out,” he said.

  “Must have been one drunk idiot,”

  Something caught my eye in the grass, and I bent to pick it up. It was a cellphone with sparkly daisies on the case.

  A chill stopped my heart and had me fighting for breath.

  “Is that hers?” Lou asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Goddammit.”

  “What’s that? Is that evidence?” Mr. Loy demanded.

  I drove back to Honky Tonk in a fog. Lou was talking, but I wasn’t listening. I was too busy replaying my last conversation with Naomi. I hadn’t wanted to lose her, so I’d pushed her away and lost her anyway.

  She was right. This was worse. So much fucking worse.

  Someone had coordinated this. Someone had conspired to take them both away from me. And I was going to make them fucking pay.

  I pulled up to the front door of the bar, and half the damn town poured out.

  “Where is she?”

  “You find her?”

  “Does he look like he found her, Elmer, you idiot?”

  “He looks pretty pissed off.”

  Ignoring the crowd and the questions, I pushed inside and found half the Knockemout PD surrounded by the other half of town. The specials board had been erased replaced with a hand-drawn map of Knockemout cut into quadrants.

  Fi, Max, and Silver charged me, and Nash looked up.

  “You didn’t find them,” Fi said.

  I shook my head.

  A shrill whistle cut through the noise, and everyone shut up.

  “Thanks, Luce,” Nash said to Lucian, who immediately returned to whatever phone call he was making. “As I was saying, we’ve got an APB out on Naomi Witt, Waylay Witt, a gray sedan, and a black, newer model Chevy Tahoe. We’re starting the search in town and expanding outward.”

  Amanda, dragging Liza J with her, hurried over to Lou, who pulled her into his side. “We’ll find ’em,” he promised. Then he wrapped his free arm around my grandmother.

  I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swallow. Couldn’t move from the spot. I thought I’d been afraid before. Afraid of turning into my father. Of crumbling after a loss. But this fear was worse. I hadn’t told her I fucking loved her. I hadn’t told either one of them. And someone had taken them from me. I hadn’t crumbled. It was worse. I hadn’t had the goddamn guts to love someone enough to crumble.

  I shoved my hands through my hair and kept them there as the reality of what I’d walked away from set in.

  I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder. “Keep it together,” Lucian said. “We’ll find them.”

  “How? How the fuck will we find them? We know jack shit.”

  “We’ve got a plate number on a 2002 gray Ford Taurus that was reported stolen from Lawlerville an hour ago,” Lucian said.

  “We don’t have plate numbers yet,” Nash said, pausing to glance down at his phone. “Scratch that. 2002 gray Ford Taurus with a primer gray trunk lid.” He read off a license plate number.

  “Lawlerville is half an hour from here,” I said, running the calculations in my head. It was the edge of a suburb of D.C.

  “You’d have to be pretty stupid to steal a car and then drive it back to the scene of the crime,” Lucian pointed out.

  “If Tina is involved with this, stupid is a factor.”

  The front door opened, and Sloane and Lina rushed in. Sloane looked breathless and scared. Lina looked scary.

  “What can I do?” Sloane asked.

  “Whose ass do you want me to kick?” Lina demanded.

  I needed to move. I needed to get out of here and find my girls, rip apart every single person who played a role in taking them, and then spend the rest of my life begging for Naomi’s forgiveness.

  “Give us a moment, ladies,” Lucian said and steered me back outside. “There’s more.”

  “What more?”

  “I have a name.”

  I grabbed him by the lapels of his wool coat. “Give me the name,” I growled.

  Lucian’s hands closed over mine. “It’s not going to help like you think it will.”

  “Start talking before I start punching.”

  “Duncan Hugo.”

  I released him. “Hugo as in the Hugo crime family?”

  Anthony Hugo was a crime lord who operated out of both D.C. and Baltimore. Drugs. Prostitution. Weapons. Enforcement. Political blackmail. You name it, it had his filthy fingerprints on it.

  “Duncan is the son. And a bit of a fuck-up. It was his chop shop where the car used in Nash’s shooting was found. I didn’t think it was a coincidence, but I wanted more information to corroborate before I brought it to you and Nash.”

  “How long have you known?” I demanded, my hands balling into fists.

  “Not long enough for you to waste time and energy on me tonight.”

  “Goddammit, Luce.”

  “Rumor has it he had a nasty and recent split from his father. Seems Duncan wants to strike out on his own. Rumors also mention a woman he’s been working with as well as fucking for the past few months.”

  It clicked into place as neatly as the last piece of a puzzle. Tina Fucking Witt.

  “Where is he?”

  Lucian tucked his hands into his pockets, his expression giving nothing away. “That’s the problem. Since he had his falling out with his father, no one seems to know his whereabouts.”

  “Or they’re not telling you.”

  “Sooner or later, everyone tells me everything,” he said.

  I didn’t have time to worry about how dark that sounded. “You tell Nash any of this?” I asked, digging my keys out of my pocket.

  “Just the plate number. Could be a coincidence.”

  “It’s not.”

  The door opened behind me, and Sloane stepped out.

  “Are you going to look for them?” she asked.

  I nodded then turned to Lucian. “I’ll start in Lawlersville and work my way toward D.C.”

  “Hold on,” he said.

  “I’m coming with you,” Sloane announced.

  Lucian stepped in front of her. “You’re staying here.”

  “She’s my friend, and Waylay is practically a second niece.”

  “You’re staying here.”

  I didn’t have time to listen to Lucian use his scary ass intimidation voice.

  “I think you’re making the incredibly ignorant assumption that you have any say over what I do or don’t do.”

  “If I find out you leave town limits tonight, I will see that your beloved library never gets another dime of funding. Then I’ll buy every piece of land around your house and build apartment complexes so tall you never see the sun again.”

  “You rich son of a…”

  I left them to it. I opened the door to my truck and climbed behind the wheel. A second later, the passenger door opened, and Lucian got in. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m starting at the top. I’m going to beat the hell out of Anthony Hugo until he tells us where his asshole son is. Then I’m going to find him and beat the hell out of him until I break every bone in his face. Then I’m going to marry Naomi Witt.”

  “This should be fun,” my best friend said, pulling out his phone.

  “You can give Nash a heads-up on the way and then tap that creepy source network of yours to find me Anthony Hugo.”

  We were ten minutes out of town with two credib
le locations for the biggest crime lord in Washington D.C. One of the sources even coughed up the gate code for the property. Lucian Rollins was a scary motherfucker.

  His phone rang again.

  “This is Lucian.” He listened for a few seconds then handed me the phone. “For you.”

  It was probably my brother bitching me out for taking the law into my own hands. “What?” I said.

  “Knox. Grim here.”

  Grim was the high-stakes poker-playing, mostly almost-legal motorcycle club president.

  “This is not a good time to plan another poker game, man.”

  “Not poker-related. Club business. Got some info I thought you might be interested in.”

  “Unless it’s the whereabouts of Anthony or Duncan Hugo, I’m not interested.”

  “Then you’re about to be real interested. That pretty little waitress of yours just marched her fine ass right on into Duncan Hugo’s new chop shop.”

  My heart was hammering away against my rib cage. “What did you just say?”

  “My guys have been sitting on the building for reasons.”

  “I’m not the cops,” I reminded him.

  “Let’s just say some local businesses aren’t real happy about the competition.”

  Translation: Grim’s club was planning to hit the chop shop.

  “Been keeping tabs on all the comings and goings. Just got photo confirmation. She’s a twin, right?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I remember her talking about her twin sister at the last game. Looks like she wasn’t bullshitting about the twin. Bitch had Naomi handcuffed to the dashboard.”

  I dropped my foot on the accelerator. “Address,” I demanded.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  THE OL’ SWITCHEROO

  Naomi

  “Five…four…three…two…”

  “Wait! What makes you think Waylay knows where whatever the hell you’re looking for is?” I asked, desperate to keep Duncan distracted from his deadly countdown. “She’s just a child.”

  “Mmmph mmm,” Waylay grumbled, clearly offended.

  Tina didn’t say anything. Her eyes were glued to Duncan, and I was surprised he hadn’t caught fire from the flames shooting out of them. The man had no idea the fuse he’d just lit. I only hoped my sister’s impending explosion wouldn’t get us all killed.

  “Simple addition. Tina took the flash drive, and it disappeared. Only one other person in that house. The little brat who likes technology and stealin’ stuff.”

  “Tina told you it disappeared?”

  “No, Santy Claus did,” Duncan said, rolling his eyes.

  “Did it ever occur to you that Tina is hiding the flash drive? Maybe she took it to cut you out of the deal.”

  Both Tina and Duncan were now looking at me. I didn’t know if I’d made things better or worse, but at least the gun was pointing at the floor. I dropped to my knees and attacked the knot on Waylay’s wrist.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Tina said seeming to come back to life. “She’s just doing what she used to do with our parents. Trying to manipulate you.”

  “I hate that shit,” he said, raising the gun once again. “Now where was I? Five?”

  “Nine?” I suggested weakly.

  “You have to go to the bathroom,” Tina announced to me.

  “What?”

  She gave me a hard look. “You have to go to the bathroom,” she said again before turning back to Duncan. “She got her period. You don’t want to shoot her and get period all over the place, do you, Dunc?”

  “Gross. Don’t tell me that woman shit,” he complained, looking like he was about to vomit.

  “I’ll take her to the bathroom, and we’ll get the kid to talk about where she stashed the drive,” she said with a pointed look in Waylay’s direction. “Then I’ll run out and get you some of that fried chicken that you like.”

  Tina was definitely up to something. She had that crafty look on her face. And I definitely hadn’t gotten my period. The Honky Tonk Code Red was two weeks out.

  “That’s more like it,” Duncan said, satisfied that his woman was back in line. “Wasn’t really gonna shoot you, T.”

  “I know you’re under a lot of stress, baby,” Tina said as she dragged me across the room toward a door marked RES OOM. “Take a break. Drink a beer. We’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder.

  She shoved me through the door into a bathroom that needed to be hosed down with a truckload of bleach.

  “Take your clothes off,” she said when the door swung shut.

  “What? Tina, we can’t leave Waylay alone with him. He’s insane.”

  “I’m gettin’ that. Now take off your goddamn clothes,” she said, dropping her pants.

  “You’ve lost your mind. This isn’t just another bad decision with horrible consequences. You’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you?”

  “For fuck’s sake. I’m not trying to have incestual relations with you. This ain’t a porno. We’re trading places. He’s not gonna let you walk out of here and get help. But he’ll let me leave.” She stripped her shirt off over her head and threw it in my direction. It hit me in the face.

  “Then leave and call the police,” I hissed.

  “I’m not leavin’ Way with that stupid motherfucker.”

  “You already abandoned her once!”

  “I left her with you, smarty-pants. Knew you’d take care of her until I got my score.”

  I knew I shouldn’t really take that as a compliment, but it was about as close as Tina got to giving them.

  “He’s fondling that Beretta like it’s his dick and he’s got a loaded PPK under the pizza box,” she continued. “You know how to work one? Are you willing to shoot a man in the fucking balls and risk prison?”

  “No and yes. If it gets Waylay out of here alive.”

  “Well, I’m yes and yes. Pretty damn good shot too. So gimmie your damn skirt. And you go call the cops.”

  “Can’t you just send Knox or Nash a text and tell them where we are?”

  “Phone’s in the car,” she said, dragging my skirt up her hips. “Dunc’s paranoid about being tracked by the government. Won’t let a cell phone near him here.”

  I pulled her shirt over my head. “Fine. Okay. So what’s the plan then?”

  “We go out there. I’m you but I give Waylay the code.”

  “What’s the code?”

  “I say ‘I read this article on the devastation of the rainforest,’ and she knows it’s code for get ready to run.”

  I supposed it was Tina’s version of having a family fire drill. “Okay. Then what?”

  “She’ll make up the location of wherever she hid the thing. Dunc’ll send his guys to get it. You’ll leave to get celebratory chicken, but really you’ll go down to the car and call 911.”

  This didn’t sound like a great plan. And I trusted my sister about as far as I could spit, which was not far at all. But I didn’t have any other options. “What will you do?” I stalled. “Even if you get past Duncan, there are men with guns outside.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to get Waylay out of here.”

  I zipped her jeans and then stepped into her boots.

  We looked at each other.

  “Your boobs are exploding out of my shirt,” I observed.

  She reached for the roll of toilet paper. “Stuff.”

  “Seriously?” I squeaked.

  “As long as you and me have big tits, he won’t notice the difference. He’s seven beers into his night.”

  “You have got to get better taste in men,” I complained as I shoved wads of toilet paper into my bra.

  She shrugged. “He’s not so bad when he’s not drunk.”

  “Yo! Ladies! Get your asses out here. I’m ready to shoot someone.”

  “He sounds like a dreamboat,” I grumbled.

  “Try not to walk like you got a stick up your ass,” Tina hissed, shoving me toward the door.

  “Try
to talk like you didn’t have to cheat your way through the eighth grade.”

  We returned to Bachelor Central, and I was relieved to see that Waylay was still alive and looking mutinous. Waylon was sitting next to her chair like a guard. His tail thumped when he saw me, and I worried that Duncan would notice.

  Fortunately, he was too engrossed in a video game that apparently involved shooting scantily dressed women.

  “Ha! Suck my barrel, bitch!”

  Tina cleared her throat and looked at Waylay. “I read this article on the devastation of the rainforest.”

  Waylay’s eyes widened above the duct tape. I nodded at her, and then at her mother. She blinked twice. Tina elbowed me.

  “Ouch. I mean, quit blabbering about reading shit and go sit down over there… by my kid,” I said, tossing my hair over my shoulder and gesturing in Waylay’s direction.

  “Waylay, honey sweetie pie, are you okay? I’m so sorry this is all happening. It’s all my fault probably because I’m so snobby and act like I’m better than everyone,” Tina said, flopping down on the torn ottoman next to her daughter. Her knees spread wide, and I could see straight up my—er, her—skirt.

  Waylay rolled her eyes.

  Behind me, I heard Duncan get to his feet. I was startled by a stinging slap on my butt. “That ass is lookin’ mighty fine in those jeans tonight, Teen,” he said before shotgunning the rest of his beer. He threw the can over his shoulder and belched.

  “I have the best taste in men,” I said, glaring at Tina.

  “Heh. Your sister has the same thong as you,” Duncan said, pointing at Tina’s exposed crotch. “You guys really are twins.”

  The man was an idiot. Unfortunately, he was an idiot with a gun. And I had no better options than Tina’s plan.

  “Ti—I mean, Naomi and I were talking,” I began.

  “She didn’t get period all over the place in there, did she?”

  I gritted my teeth. “No. It’s just the usual bodily fluids all over the floor and walls.”

  Tina cleared her throat pointedly. Poor Waylon was looking back and forth between her and me like he was trying to puzzle out what was going on.

  “Anyway, your aunt who loves you very much and I talked, Waylay. We agreed that it’s safe for you to tell Duncan where you hid the flash drive,” I said.