AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He hesitated, grimacing again. He didn’t want to look at it, didn’t want to see her face in its death rictus, but he couldn’t just shove it into the water as he’d done her torso and he wasn’t sure he had the stomach to fling it in like he had her limbs.
He reached into the bag and immediately yanked his arm out. Gross. So gross.
Stop being a pussy. Just do it.
He’d reached into the bag a second time when he heard a vehicle’s engine, roaring through the quiet air. Fucking hell. Shit, damn, fuck. Someone was coming. Someone would see.
Gripping the bag, he moved back toward his car. To where he’d left his gun.
He grabbed the gun, cursing when his gloved hands, now slippery with Ashley’s blood, slid uselessly over the gun’s slide. Heart beating way too fast, he ripped the surgical gloves from the leather gloves he wore. He threw the surgical gloves into the bag along with the rest of Ashley’s... remains.
Her head. Just say it.
Then he exhaled. It was Jackass’s Range Rover. But then he tensed again.
What the hell was Jackass doing here? And how did he know I was even here?
Lamont racked the gun, chambering the first bullet as Jackass slowed to a stop. The man should not be here. He couldn’t trust that this was anything good.
Grabbing the bag in one hand, he edged toward the water’s edge once again. If worse came to worst he’d fling the whole damn bag in.
“Mornin’, Monty,” Jackass called, getting out of the vehicle. “Whatcha doing?”
None of your fucking business.“Fishing,” he called back. “Why are you here?”
Leaving his engine running, Jackass sauntered closer, his eyes on the bag. Not on my hand. Which clutched the gun, ready to shoot if he needed to.
“What’s in the bag, Monty?” The question was asked smugly, like he already knew.
“Supplies. Bait. You know.”
“I think I do.” Jackass stopped a foot away. “She heard you talking, didn’t she?”
He blinked. “What?” How had he—
“You had to go and kill her, didn’t you?” Jackass continued, shaking his head. “Even after we talked about it. It wasn’t smart, Monty.” And suddenly, Jackass held a gun.
Pointed at me.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Ashley Resnick,” Jackass said calmly. “Drop the gun you’re holding behind your back and put your hands behind your head.”
Lamont took another step back. “How did you know?”
Because when he walked away from this, he’d need to know which leak to plug.
“I didn’t until now, not for sure. I heard a gasp, right there at the end of our conversation, so I followed you once you’d left your house. I was really hoping that you hadn’t killed her, but I figured you had. You’re becoming predictable, Monty. But you did stump me when you switched vehicles, I have to say. Wasn’t expecting that. But this was where we dumped she-who-shall-not-be-named. That this here”—he gestured to the bag—“was Ashley isn’t that big a leap. Neither was my guess that you’d bring her here. You’re nothing if not a creature of habit, Monty. So drop the gun.”
“How did you follow me?”
“Trackers on all of your vehicles. For years. I know everywhere you’ve been, old friend. And everything you’ve done. Shame you had to kill the girl. She was an animal in bed.”
“How—” His brain whirred as he processed this smug pronouncement. “You saw us?”
The man grinned. “In your very own home.”
“You saw the video Joelle took.”
Jackass laughed. “Who do you think installed the cameras? I did it as a favor to a good friend because she was so devastated that her husband had strayed.” His expression became grim. “You’ve become a liability, but killing your mistress again is crossing the line. You were useful to me for a time, but cleaning up your messes has become inconvenient for my career.” He gestured with the gun. “Drop your gun.”
