I shrugged. “Yeah, maybe you should. Because that murder weapon you’re trying to make a deal with here …”
Myers narrowed his eyes at me.
“Well,” I continued, “you can’t make a deal with it.”
“And why the fuck not?” he yelled, stepping closer, the gun aimed straight at my chest.
“Because, Myers, you filthy piece of shit …”
Our eyes locked.
Time slowed.
The air felt heavy, pressing in from all sides.
“Because you don’t have it anymore.”
His head jerked. A twitch. Then his eyes shot to the kitchen drawer next to the filthy fridge.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Go check.”
I leaned forward in the chair as he rushed toward the kitchenette.
“You see, what Lucy didn’t tell you, because I asked her not to, is that I knew about this little hiding place of yours.”
He yanked open the drawer with one hand and started digging through it, tossing papers and junk onto the counter. An old battery fell to the floor. The gun stayed in his other hand, still pointing in my direction.
“Where the fuck is it!” he screamed, ripping through the drawer.
“Well … last night, when you left for the bar, I came here and took the knife.”
I pulled the spare gloves from my scrub pocket and slid them on. “God. I couldn’t believe how stupid you were when I found the murder weapon in akitchen drawer. Considering how important it is to you.”
Myers let out a raw scream, something between rage and panic, then spun around fast enough to knock over several beer cans on the counter.
“I’ll kill you!”
“Nah, you won’t,” I said. “You’re a head smaller than me. And when I came here last night, I also took the bullets out of your gun.”
His eyes snapped to the weapon in his hand. Then to me. Then back to the gun. His fingers flexed around the grip.
“I knew there were fucking bullets in it when I checked this morning!” he said.
“So, you were smart enough to check,” I countered.
“Fucking right, you asshole.” He moved toward me fast and shoved the gun straight at my chest. “And I put new ones in.”
The barrel hovered inches from me.
His hand shook. Not just his hand. His whole body trembled. If hehadreloaded the gun, he would kill me. No doubt.
But not before he had his only bargaining chip back.
“Where’s the fucking knife?” he screamed, spit flying from his mouth. The smell of foul breath filled my nose. My skin crawled, but I held his gaze.
This wasn’t a bluff anymore.
There wasn’t much time left.
