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There’s only one thing I can think of, and that’s enlisting the help of an old friend.

So I immediately phone his number.

“Hello?”

“Chase, it’s Brandon. I need your help.”

“Buddy!” he says, a little too happy. “Thought I’d never hear from you again.”

“Stop bullshitting me. We met weeks ago.”

“Oh, right,” he says, laughing. “I forgot. It feels like ages ago.”

He’s only saying that because he wants to go on a killing spree again, but I’m not interested right now.

“I’m not calling because of a hit.”

“No?” He sounds surprised. “What do you need my help for then?”

“I had a girl,” I say, “but she escaped.”

He snorts. “Brandon … really?”

“I know, don’t say it.” I sigh. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“But you told me the same thing.”

I know what I told him. That he shouldn’t be so focused on a single girl … a girl he caught like she was some goddamn prize he won. A girl he kept as a prisoner.

God, I’m turning into such a hypocrite.

I rub my face, and say, “Just help a bro out.”

“You’re asking the wrong person, Brandon,” he says. “You know what I did.”

“That’s exactly why I’m asking,” I say. “Listen. You and I go way back. I know how good you are at tracking people down.”

“Me? I thought that was your forte.”

“No, I find the targets. You track them down, remember?” I hiss. “The point is … she’s my target.”

“And you want me to find her?” he asks. “Some random girl I’ve never met and don’t know?”

“She’s not some random girl,” I snap. “She’s—”

“Special. I get it,” he interjects.

No, he doesn’t. But there’s no point in explaining because I’d have to tell him the entire history of my life, which I’m a hundred percent sure he’s not interested in. Nor am I in telling it.

“Okay, where are you?” he asks.

I look around a bit. “Nevada desert, probably.”

“Probably?” he asks.

“I don’t exactly have a map in my pocket, now do I?”

“How the fuck did you get there? And why?” he asks, laughing. “What the fuck, Brandon?”

“A car, how else? Look, it doesn’t matter. The point is, I’m trying to find this girl who escaped me.”

“How? On foot? Or did she take the car?” he asks. “Because that complicates things.”

“No, I had the keys in my pocket, thankfully.”

“So on foot then. She couldn’t have gotten far.”

“I know, but I have no fucking clue which way she went. The place is huge, bro. Huge.”

“Yeah, it’s a fucking desert, Brandon.”

“No shit,” I reply a little louder. He’s getting on my nerves right now.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Use your magic fucking computer thing to track her down.”

“Did she have a tracking device on her?”

“Not that I know of,” I say, staring at the remnants of what used to be a fire. All that’s left now are twigs turned to charcoal and blackened soil. A bit like my soul when I found out she was gone.

“Well, then I can’t help you,” he says.

“Oh, c’mon!” I yell as if it’ll cross the distance or some shit.

“I’m not a fucking magician, Brandon. You know that,” he says. “Shouldn’t have let her run if you wanted to keep her that badly.”

“Dude, you don’t know her. She’s an expert at escaping.”

He chuckles. “Sounds like you got yourself into a fine mess.”

“That I’m trying to get out of, yeah,” I respond.

“By calling me? As much as I’d like to, because you’ve done so much for me in the past, I can’t help you, Brandon.”

I sigh out loud, running my fingers through my hair. “Fuck …”

“You’re a good tracker. Can’t you like … find her on your own?” he asks.

“How?” I ask, frowning. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know. You’re a Native, right? You have skills.”

“Skills? Really, dude?”

“They listen to shit, don’t they?”

“You’d better not be suggesting I put my face in the dirt and my ears against rocks. I swear to God, Chase.”

“What? I don’t know what it is that you do that makes you so good at your shit, sorry,” he says. “The point is … you gotta figure this one out by yourself. I’m sorry.”

I close my eyes and sigh again, then put the phone away.

Fuck, why is he so useless when it matters the most?

I always help him out, but when it comes to helping me out, he flakes out. Typical.

Dude’s only approachable when it comes to killing people, but when I need him for important stuff, it’s futile to even ask him. Especially since that girl came into his life, he’s just been so absent. Like he cares more about her than he wants to be my friend.

I grunt and bang my head against the car door. Not that I’m not in the same situation.

Of course not. I’d never fucking admit a girl takes up so much of my mind that I can’t fucking breathe when she isn’t in my hands where she belongs. No fucking way.

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