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He sucks in a couple deep breaths. “Jason and Molly.”
“Fuck.” I stand up and start pacing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Who are you? Does this have to do with you not beating me too bad earlier?”
“Smart little shit,” I mutter and stare at the other two. Shane’s starting to wake, but Ronan’s still out.
I don’t have any options. This is beyond fucked up already. I walk over to the first Irish kid and press my gun to his head. He’s only partially conscious, but fear registers in his eyes a second before I pull the trigger.
His brains splatter back against the wall. Carlo’s cleaning crew will deal with it.
“Oh, fuck,” Barry moans. “Please, man, don’t. What the fuck are you doing?”
I walk to Ronan. He’s very awake now. His eyes are pleading with me, but he knows. The little bastard knows. I press the gun to his head and make it quick. I can give him that mercy at least.
“Oh my god.” Barry’s sobbing. “What the fuck? Why did you ask about my cousins? What the fuck are you doing?”
I walk to Barry. Blood-covered tears stream down his wrecked face. He’s pathetic and I’m making an enormous mistake, but hell, I don’t have a choice.
“Please,” he says. “Don’t kill me.”
“I’m not.” I shove my gun into my waistband. “God, you’re a lucky motherfucker.” I kneel down and start to untie him.
“What?” His crying slows as he starts to comprehend what’s happening. “You’re not killing me?”
“No. You’re escaping.”
“I’m what?”
“Escaping. Jesus, I really hope you’re not actually this fucking stupid.” Once he’s free, I yank him up to his feet. “Listen to me. The other two had to die. I couldn’t risk them knowing I let you go. If you get caught, your story is simple. The knots were bad and you wriggled free. You escaped in the middle of the night. You left your friends behind because you’re a pathetic coward. Understand?”
“Yeah. I get it. I understand.”
“Follow me. Walk fast.”
I lead him upstairs, thinking about Molly the whole time. I never promised I’d watch over her shithead cousin, but here I am, putting myself in deep shit to do it anyway. I’m not even sure she likes him.
We don’t run into anybody on the way to the Lexus. Once he’s in the passenger seat, I keep the gun in my lap and start driving. Barry says nothing, only stares out the window, probably thinking about how goddamn lucky he is right now. If anyone else in the Rossi Famiglia had caught him, he’d be dead. Instead, it was Carlo. Lucky motherfucker.
I drive until sunrise. We get a few hours away. I stop at a bus station in some small rural Pennsylvania town and give him the emergency cash I keep hidden in my trunk.
“Five grand,” I say, closing his hands around the envelope. “Head into a bathroom and clean the blood off you the best you can. Get a ticket and head west. Don’t call anyone you used to know. Don’t look back. If you do, someone will catch you. If I hear you’re back in town, I’ll kill you myself. Do you understand?”
“You’re Molly’s husband,” he says, sounding dull. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
I grunt. Maybe he’s not so stupid. “California. Don’t fucking stop until you see water.”
He nods and turns away. He gets two steps, but steps and turns around. “You’re looking for Finnian, right?”
“Yeah, we are.”
“He stays at this Best Western out near Landsdale twice a month to see his girlfriend. It’s the same place every time.”
I don’t move. My hands feel numb. My lips twitch. “How do you know?”
“I bring them drugs. Coke, sometimes meth. Depends what they’re into. They wanted a whole ton of E one time.”
“If you’re lying to me?—”
