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“I should have taken care of you years ago.” He dug the pistol harder. “Drive, Emory.”
“Where am I going?”
My hands shook as I tried to put the keys in the ignition. Finally, on the third attempt, I got them in and started the car.
“Your apartment will do nicely for what I have in mind.”
I was in big trouble. My only hope was the cameras Luc had installed. If he got the notification on his phone like he did before, then maybe I had a chance in hell of surviving whatever Joel had planned. If not, well, then I had no idea what I was going to do, but there was one thing for certain. I’d put up one hell of a fight.
The ride was mostly silent, except for the sound of my labored breathing. Joel had, thankfully, removed the gun from my head but kept it aimed in my direction from behind the seat. When we got to my apartment, he had me pull around the side of the building and park next to the steps. It wasn’t technically allowed, so for once, I prayed someone would call the police to report me.
He kept the weapon hidden from view until my apartment door slammed shut. Hoping to stall him a bit, I walked to the couch and sat down.
“Why are you doing this, Joel? I came to the rally, just like you and my father wanted.”
“This isn’t about the senator.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s about a pair of shoes, Emory.”
Okay, this guy was whacked. I had no idea what he was referring to, but I figured the more I kept him talking, the less he was shooting. He stepped in front of me and any other thoughts I had blanked out. The gun hung loosely at his side, however there was no guarantee I’d be able to knock it from his grip before he could fire off a round.
“Shoes?”
His eyes flared just before he raised his arm and slapped me across the face. My head jerked to the side as white-hot agony ripped through my cheek.
“Think hard before you open your mouth again,” he snapped.
“Joel, I have no––”
I didn’t even finish my sentence before he hit me again, this time I was certain he’d broken skin.
“Your shoes were at the bottom of the steps at your parents’ home, Emory.” Suddenly the gun was between my eyes. “Who did you tell?”
Fuck!
My shoes. The ones I hadn’t even wanted to wear. The same ones I kicked off when I went looking for Luc. Those godforsaken shoes were going to get me killed. For what? Money?
“Your boyfriend, maybe? We could wait for him to show up. Two birds, one stone as the saying goes.”
“I didn’t say a word to anyone. I promise.”
“Liar,” he yelled and I flinched. “You told someone, otherwise why would the federal government be looking for your brother, huh?”
He began to pace in front of me, looking more and more unhinged as time went on. I was out of time. Looking around my apartment, I searched for anything I could use as a weapon. The police had taken the bat as evidence so I was limited to a few lamps and I was too far away from the kitchen to get a knife.
“Everything I’ve done for the past twenty odd years has been for Senator Daubson’s well-being,” Joel muttered. “The pay was shit though, so when your brother approached me with an opportunity to make a small fortune, I figured what the hell. I’d seen the writing on the wall and knew my time as the chief of staff was coming to a close.”
He spun around with a syringe in his hand. “Then you had to go and fuck everything up. Well, you and your idiot brother. But I already took care of him so that leaves you.”
“What the hell?”
“Did you know your mother is petrified to fly?”
“What does that have to do with what’s in there?” I pointed.
“The senator enlisted the help of a physician years ago to help with our little problem.” He twirled the needle between his fingers. “This is midazolam, otherwise known as Versed. Hospitals use it as a sedative before surgery. We just used it to knock your mother out.”
