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I can’t even count on his sniper skills.
There’s no more safety net.
I have to fucking act.
“You blowhards mind putting your guns down for a second? Christ. You’re not careful, you’ll put somebody’s eye out. And we have a party to get to, so hurry up,” I say, throwing the subject off Nelson.
For a second, Grendal looks at me, his head cocked and his nose wrinkled.
“You’ve either got balls of steel or you’re mentally deficient,” he says with a bitter chuckle. “I should’ve known you were missing a few marbles with the stuff you ordered. It’s true what they say—a man’s got a better chance at spotting a unicorn than one of your kind sober. You’re fucked up right now, aren’t you?”
He thinks I’m on drugs.
I flash him an empty smile, raising my hands, giving them a nervous shake.
“I don’t know what your deal is, bro…I just want to party. You’re holding up a sick bash. Or did you come to drop off the goods? Is that what this is about, you worried I won’t make good on the money? Shit, I’ve got it in the barn. Let me just head over and grab it so we can—”
Everybody’s guns pivot toward me, thankfully off Grace.
She’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
Inwardly, I smile.
If it looks real to her, then these boys are almost where I want them.
“Not so fast,” Grendal mutters, his salt-and-pepper hair catching the sun, lighting him up like an evil shadow in broad daylight. “We have more important matters to discuss than money.”
“What? Ohhh. Oh, hell.” I whack my hands against my thighs loudly. “I get it. You’re pissed because you didn’t get an invite?”
“What?” he clips off, a disgusted look on his face. “That’s not even remotely true, you idiot fuck of a—”
“Talk to my manager,” I say, giving him the idiot he wants. “Actually, don’t. Tell you what, if you make good on the candy, if it’s truly as mind-blowing as they say…you guys can join in. I know keeping a low profile is probably your jam—I’m not in your business—but if you don’t mind doing lines off the tits of the most expensive stripper in the country, we can—”
Clay doesn’t answer, not with words.
He raises his gun in the air and fires several times, thoroughly done with my shit.
I hold my breath, waiting for total chaos.
By some miracle, Grady holds his fire, probably begging me to give him the signal.
Not yet.
Because I just saw several men dressed in black tactical gear creeping around the storage shed, and Faulk himself dropping down behind their vehicles. He’s probably planting trackers in case they make a run for it.
“Enough of this fucking nonsense!” Grendal barks, hot fury smoldering in his eyes.
He whips his attention back to Grace, but before he can say anything, I walk toward her, careful to keep a healthy distance while their guns follow me.
“Baby, you know these guys? I thought…you told me that ugly weasel-rat from the bar was a fluke. Some idiot who wanted in your pants and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
A knowing glimmer lights up her eyes.
She’s still confused, sure, but she remembers what I told her, what I asked her to do, back in the house.
Pretend for me one more time.
“Grace?” Grendal eyes her up and down. “Is that true? You didn’t tell this jackass about us?”
She makes a soft, choked sound.
“There was nothing much to tell,” she says, stepping closer. “I’m done with what happened back home, Clay. Just give him what he ordered and let it go…he’s paying you a fortune.”
For a second, I can see the maniac torn.
Unsure whether to forfeit the biggest payment of his life for his trash drugs, all for this angel who still has him climbing the walls in his own fucked up head.
He’ll never have her.
But I need a damn diversion. Some way to get them in the barn so I can deliver the kill shot.
“You’re not cute, girl,” he growls. “Did you tell him about your other boyfriends? The one in high school who took you to your senior prom? The one whose mother made him break up with you after she found a dead rat stuffed in her mailbox with a Post-It wrapped around its tail? Or the one in college who suddenly decided he needed to go to a new school in another state? I told that twit I’d feed him his own balls.”
Shit, she’s turning pale.
I only see red.
This bastard has been warping every part of her life, even new ones she never knew about.
“That’s right. All me. Do you have any—any damn clue—just how long I’ve waited for this?” He turns back to me, hot death in his gaze. “If there’s any reason left in your drug-addled brain, you’ll listen, Hollywood, and listen good.”
I stare him down, relieved that I can finally let the hatred boiling me alive pour out.
