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I want to take her out of here. Rage is getting high in my belly, and I feel a red mist creeping around the edges my vision. More than anything, I'd like to kick Owen's teeth in. I can't believe he would allow things to happen this way.
“Get your sweet little ass on stage, sweet cheeks,” Dustin says, bending over at the waist and talking to Angel like she's four or something.
She looks up at me, so trusting, so fearful. Her hair falls around her cheeks in soft waves, lit blue by the light over her head. I hold my breath and nod to her.
With my permission, she takes a few steps forward, obviously wobbly on her feet now. On her white boots. She mounts the stage and stands in the middle, shading her eyes with one hand, blinking and teary-eyed from all the smoke in the room.
“Goddamn, Dustin,” Artie drawls, grinning wide enough to show he's only got teeth on one side. “You did good, goddamn.”
“I swear I didn't know this was going to happen,” Owen tells me, shifting to face me and pressing his shoulder against mine. “I never would've done this if I'd known. This isn’t right, Silas. It's just not right.”
“You're fucking right it isn’t,” I growl back. “What the fuck are we supposed to do now, Owen? What did you get us into?”
“Turn around, honey!” some fat guy with his shirt pulled halfway up his belly hollers at her. He strokes himself, edging his pudgy fingertips down toward the crotch of his light blue stretch pants.
“You think this is all right? Did you think any of this would make sense? Any of this would be worth her life? Seriously, Owen, I'm asking you. Is there any amount of money that would make this all right?”
Owen scrubs his hand across his face, gnawing the inside of his cheek fretfully. “Fuck, Silas, what are we going to do? This is out of control. It was gonna be a discreet transaction, he told me.”
“Does this look in any way discreet to you?” I snarl, jerking my chin toward the scrawny old geezer yelling out dollar amounts. “It’s indecent!”
“Nine thousand, two hundred!” Artie yells out. “And turn around, girly! We want to see your ass!”
“I get her ass too, right, Dustin?” The fat guy yells out. “I get the whole thing?”
“You buy it, you get to break it!” Dustin yells back, slapping his thigh like he’s said the funniest thing in the world.
“No,” Owen growls. “No, Silas. This is not all right.”
“That's what I thought,” I tell him. “I'm putting a stop to this.”
“Yeah,” he nods curtly.
I start to lead off, then double back so he understands.
“When we get out of here, Owen, don't follow us. You got that? You lead them off, take them wherever. The compound is yours. Papers are in the office somewhere. I don't give a shit. Don't follow us.”
His mouth opens as he meets my eyes. I can feel his shock, his unsaid objections. He wants to refuse, but he got us into this.
“Yeah,” he finally growls back, setting his lips in a grim line. He knows what I'm saying.
I catch Angel’s eye so she knows I'm coming. So she knows it'll be all right. Somehow she always seems to know what I'm thinking, and I know she understands it now.
With three steps to the left, I grab Dustin by the shoulder. He flinches toward me by surprise.
“Oh! Oh, fuck you, no!” he hollers.
Lifting my right heel, I bring it down hard on the outside of his knee. He goes down like a stack of canned goods, curling into a ball on the floor and yelling just like he did the last time.
The old guys jump out of their chairs, shouting and confused. I stride to the middle of the stage and grab Angel, throwing her over one shoulder. As I come back down the middle, I grab the Colt and the cash and stuff them both in my trousers.
Everybody's too surprised to do much of anything. For a bunch of hillbilly hard asses, they sure do know how to back up when a pissed-off holy man comes through the middle of their filthy hellhole of a bar.
Owen’s already got his bike running. He drops the helmet onto Angel's head and picks her up, puts her behind me. For a moment he hesitates like he wants to say something, but then he walks away.
We roar out of the parking lot, gravel spraying up behind us as Owen idles there, waiting for anybody who might want to give chase, making sure they don't catch us first.
Her arms are tight around my middle, and I feel her shaking against my back, sobbing probably, but safe.
