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Timmy said, “I’ll slice off her tit, then stab her in the heart. It’ll burst like a balloon.”
Rye said, “You wouldn’t live to brag about it.”
“Let’s try it and see.”
Brynn’s breath gusted out. “I’m all right, Rye.”
“So far,” Timmy said. “But she won’t be if you don’t back off.”
“Your face looks like hell, Timmy,” Rye said. “What color are your balls this morning?”
“I owe you for that.”
“I agree. You want to use your knife, come after me. Let Brynn go.”
Brynn could see herself and Timmy reflected in the lenses of Rye’s sunglasses. She reasoned he was wearing them so Timmy couldn’t tell exactly where he was looking. Brynn intervened. “There’s no need for another fight.”
“Why’s he holding a knife on you?”
“He’s got the drug, and wants to make sure that it gets to the senator.”
“That’s right,” Nate said, his self-importance reasserting itself. “As was the original plan. This nonsense was totally unnecessary, Brynn. None of this would have happened if you had left well enough alone.” To Timmy, he said, “Let’s go. It’s a long drive back.”
Calmly, Rye said, “Why don’t you all fly back with me?”
“I don’t think so, ace,” Timmy said. “I already saw you crash.”
Brynn’s knees had gone weak with relief at his suggestion. Ignoring Timmy’s remark, she said, “That’s a wonderful idea. Don’t you think so, Nate?”
His gaze ricocheted among them, landing on Timmy. “It is a good idea. It would save hours. But we don’t need him to fly us. The Hu
nts’ jet is available.”
“But not the pilots,” Brynn said.
“What?” Nate asked.
“Abby, at the outpatient hotel? She told Rye and me last night that they were off duty until they fly Violet back on Tuesday.”
Rye said, “That’s right. She did.”
“Then I guess it’s you, or a four-hour drive,” Nate said.
Timmy still looked reluctant and distrustful. “You got a plane big enough?”
Rye made a show of sizing him up and finding him lacking. “Big enough for you.”
Nate pressed his argument. “Time-wise, it would give me a wide comfort zone I wouldn’t have if we drive back. After all this, you don’t want to disappoint the Hunts by being late.”
Timmy capitulated, but said to Rye, “No funny stuff, or your girlfriend dies.”
11:22 a.m.
The pilot whose car Rye had asked to borrow had repeated his words back to him: “Fuck off.”
Rye had to call for a car. It had arrived in under four minutes, which had seemed like hours. The drive to the address Brynn had given him earlier had also seemed unending, and then, when he arrived, he wondered just where the hell the police were. He’d expected the area around the Griffins’ house to look like an armed camp with Timmy in custody for kidnaping Lambert.
But apparently Wilson and Rawlins had dropped the ball. They hadn’t notified their local cohorts.
