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ChapterOne
Four days after the hit on Mickey Winterstone:
“Did you all have to be here in person for this?” Speed asked testily. He wanted to cross his arms over his chest and glare at Lavender but Speed’s left arm was in a sling. And he was in his robe and propped up by pillows so he’d look even more ridiculous “Why couldn’t you have listened from across the street?”
“Some things are better experienced face-to-face, are they not?” Lavender said. He smiled smugly at Speed as he reclined in the armchair by the window. Hawk was hovering because he was monitoring Speed’s recovery and Lane often stopped by with food or to give Blake a hand with the backyard. Wilder even made sense because he was helping them with the garden. Blake was in the kitchen getting a head start on lunch so Speed didn’t mind the rest of them slouching against walls and watching him but he didn’t want Lavender in the room while he “faced” Francis for the first time.
“Denver’s listening in from his cabin,” Speed pointed out. There was a soft laugh from the speakers.
“Much easier to make a getaway if you aren’t recovering from a gunshot wound but we’ll be there next weekend if you’re missing me,” he replied.
“Like a hole in the—” Speed started but Lavender cleared his throat loudly.
“Get on with it, Speed.”
“Fine,” Speed grumbled, then pointed at Lavender. “Turn around. I can’t do this with your stuck-up face staring at me.” There was a hard eye roll from Lavender but he stood and angled the chair so he was facing the French doors and turned away from Speed. He held up a hand, seeking Speed’s approval. “Much better,” Speed declared with a nod. He picked up the phone he used for Francis’s calls and messages and Speed’s pulse became a heavy thud in his ears.
He’d wished for some way to seal up his entire past and level or raze it so he could leave it all behind. He wanted to believe that it was all over and had gone off without a hitch and that he didn’t need to check in or look back. It would have been perfect if he could have destroyed the phone and walked away but he knew that time was still rushing forward on the other end of that line. And a bill was due to be paid. Speed knew the bullet he took wasn’t going to be enough to settle the entire debt and he was about to find out how much he owed Francis.
“Here we go,” he whispered as he swiped and found the only number on the call log. He tapped it, sending the call and holding his breath so he’d sound distressed when Francis answered. The phone barely rang; Francis picked up as soon as the number touched his screen.
“Hello?” Francis demanded.
“It’s me,” Speed said and there was a natural catch in his voice.
“Jesus! Where the fuck are you? Do you have any idea—?” He broke down and it was just the second time in Speed’s life that he’d ever heard Francis cry. It was the first time Speed had felt pain since he’d been shot and it was almost as bad.
“I’m so sorry, Francis.” Speed wasso damn sorryfor what he’d done to Francis. He’d never put the relief he felt after Mickey was gone into words but it killed Speed, knowing how devastated Francis was.
“I know,” Francis said, once he’d pulled himself together. “I tried to get to you as soon as I could but you weren’t at any of the hospitals.”
“I didn’t give them a name and I got out of there as soon as I could. I didn’t know who it was and I was scared they might have been after me. I still don’t know if it was me or Mickey they were after.”
“I heard them. They were after Mickey.”
“You heard them?” Speed asked loudly but he was smiling as he glanced at Wilder.
“Yeah. They grabbed me at the door and they threw me in a UPS van. I heard a call come in and someone said that Mickey was heading out onto the terrace and the guy in the uniform said to go ahead and take him out there. The other guy laughed and said it would be easier.”
“Did you get a fucking look at them?” Speed demanded and held his breath.
“I didn’t see the second guy until we got into the truck. He was wearing a mask and he was a fucking giant. The guy in the UPS uniform was big too and he had a bum knee but I didn’t get a look at his face. He had his cap pulled low and he kept his head down like he was in a hurry. He had a ponytail but I don’t know if that was a wig or real.”
“Fuck!” Speed spat but he was delighted. Wilder and Denver had played their parts perfectly and fed Francis just enough to round out the performance.
“You ok, though? You laying low someplace safe?” Francis asked.
“Yeah. I’m safe. I got to a motel until I could arrange for a flight out of Florida. I’m safe and I’m on good drugs so I barely feel it unless I try to move,” Speed joked, even though his shoulder did hurt like hell if he didn’t take it slowly. There was a long pause before Francis sighed.
“You know what I don’t get, Speed?”
“What’s that?” Speed asked, somber as well.
“Why didn’t they touch me? There are times when I wish I had told you to get the door so I could have been out there with Mickey. I wish it had been me and I wish they would have blown my head off too.” Francis was crying hard again, cutting Speed deeper in the only place he still hurt.
“I don’t know but I’m glad they didn’t. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you too.” He wondered if it would have been more humane and if he’d feel less guilt if Francis wasn’t suffering.
“I’d rather be dead than see Mickey like that and hear you screaming the way you were. That was the worst moment of my life and I wish they would have just killed me,” Francis insisted.
