Page 82 of Jonny’s Redemption

Adrenaline surged through Jonny; murderous intent followed until his entire body was engulfed with it. Without thought, he turned and ran. His brain still hadn’t come back on station when he slid behind the wheel of his truck and turned over the ignition.

“Move over,” Jameson demanded. “Now, Jonny, climb over, I’m driving.”

Jonny didn’t move over, he put his truck in drive. Jameson being the smart man he was gave up the ghost of Jonny listening to reason and opened the rear passenger door behind Jonny. He jumped in as Jonny’s foot found the accelerator and the truck lurched forward. He could hear Jameson on the phone, something about getting Holden and Weston back to Kent County. The two of them were working on other jobs. Holden was in Delaware thirty minutes away and Weston was even farther in Baltimore.

Dillinger was at the farm.

Fuck.

Bobby was there alone, unprotected. Chasin and Evie were at a prenatal appointment.

Jonny fucked up. He thought she’d be safe. No one in their right mind would try to harm her while she was at work. It was known far and wide that the farm had cameras everywhere and the moment a car turned down the private lane, an alert was sent to Gemini Group.

The problem was, Dick Dillinger was not in his right mind. He was a stupid motherfucker and Jonny was ten minutes out.

So much could happen in ten minutes.

Anything could happen in ten minutes.

Fuck.

“Turn left,” Jameson directed.

“Faster to go straight.”

“Turn left.”

At the last minute, Jonny took the turn at a high rate of speed and Jameson exploded in a torrent of expletives that Jonny ignored.

“If you kill me, my wife is gonna have your ass, Jonny. Slow the fuck down.”

Jonny ignored that, too.

“Why’d I turn?”

“It fucks me, for a variety of reasons. One being you should not be driving.”

“Why the fuck did I turn?”

There had to be a reason Jameson had demanded Jonny turn off the main highway. There were multiple ways to get to the farm: one way would’ve taken them down a road with a fifty-five mile an hour speed limit that Jonny could’ve easily blown. The way that Jameson had directed Jonny to take was thirty-five and took them through a small village. Houses lined the streets, a church, a park.

“Cameras show Dillinger turned this way when he left the farm.”

“Bobby?”

“He has her.”

Fuck.

Jonny pressed the pedal down and fear slithered down his spine.

The last time a Dillinger took a woman, he almost killed her. And the almost wasn’t due to Dillinger having a change of heart—Sheriff Dillinger would’ve succeeded if Nixon hadn’t found McKenna and killed the sheriff.

Like father, like son.

And Jonny meant that every way he could mean it. Today Dick Dillinger would meet his end, in the same manner in which his father did. Only it would be Jonny who beat the life out of the son.

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