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That’s what I had always done. What I had to do to survive all those years in an abusive marriage. What I had to do now, with the good and the bad things that occupied my mind. I couldn’t function and hold it all inside me. It had to be locked away and hidden, at least for a little while.
So that’s just what I did.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Vincent
“Is everything set?” I asked the man uncomfortably hunched over in the seat beside me. He looked like a contortionist in the circus. He looked like a reluctant Houdini, chaining himself inside a locked safe before being plunged into a tank of water.
He looked like Cameron Frye, hiding in the backseat of the corvette in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this,” Michael grumbled.
“It was your idea,” I pointed out with a wry smile. Not that he could see my face all that clearly from where he was curled up in the bucket seat of my McLaren.
“Why did you have to bring this car?”
“Because it’s the only one in town. People know it is my preferred vehicle. If I took the SUV, it would be harder to get his attention.”
“Damn you,” he muttered, glaring at me. “I’m going to have a stiff neck.”
“I’ll pay for a massage.”
“Hell yes, you will,” he answered, looking slightly brighter at the thought of having some lovely lady put her hands all over him.
“Do you have the blood?”
“Yes. But I can’t believe you are going to destroy this fine automobile with blood.”
“She’s worth it. And it won’t destroy it. I can have it cleaned.”
“Leather and blood do not mix.”
“I can replace leather. I can’t replace her.”
“You have an answer for everything.”
“No, Michael. You are the one with an answer for everything.”
“That’s true,” he said smugly. “I do have an answer for everything.”
“Do you have the gun?”
“Of course.”
“And the blanks?”
“Yes. You know you are going to get fucked up by this, right? There is no way to do this in close range without risking your life.”
“It’s worth the risk.”
“You mean she is.”
“Yes, Michael. That is what I mean,” I said placidly. Michael wasn’t much of a romantic. He was too logical. Hell, I hadn’t been much of a romantic, either. Not until Francesca burst back into my life.
Now it was moonlight and roses, all day, every day.
“Tell me when we get to the intersection.” He sighed, clearly not approving. Not that I gave a shit about his approval. I had to get 'Cesca her daughter back. I had to get her out from under Philip’s thumb. Once her daughter was safe, I would handle that rat snake myself.
One on one.
Only a weak bastard would prey on women and children. I planned to tell him that, too. Right before I put a bullet between his eyes.
“Almost there,” I said as I came to the pre-selected intersection and put the safety brake on to slow my forward momentum. I didn’t hesitate before giving the order. I knew full well that getting shot with a blank at close range was going to hurt like hell. I didn’t give a damn. “Now, Michael.”
BAM
Holy fuck. The pain was so intense I didn’t truly feel it at first. It was like a wave of disassociation washing over me. My body was far away. The car was far away. My cousin was far away. I felt something warm and hot wash out of my mouth as Michael hissed my name.
Blood. I was spitting out blood.
I was hurt. Badly. But I couldn’t give up the game. Not now.
At least Michael wouldn’t have to use the fake blood he’d brought, I thought distantly as the pain took over. I wanted to scream. But I couldn’t. The whole point was to play dead.
So I slumped over the steering wheel and did my best not to move as the worst pain of my life swept through me. I hadn’t even known it was possible to stay conscious through something like this. I conjured up a vision of Francesca and immediately calmed. I was doing this for her.
Even if I died, it would be worth it. Her hands were clean of my blood. She would be safe. And if her ex refused to give back her child anyway, Michael and Tony would step in and help her for me.
I heard sirens in the distance. That was good. The paramedics we had paid off would be dealing with a lot more than they had anticipated.
I sat there, barely breathing as a cop leaned over and whispered to me that he had things under control. I had friends in the department. They had known the plan in advance. But the look on the paramedics’ face was alarmed.
“No rush with a corpse,” the cop joked.
I heard a voice say something that gave me hope that the pain might end somewhat soon.
