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A part of me hoped that if I went willingly with him, that maybe the police would eventually catch up to him, and he would finally pay for his crimes.
But sadly, I always knew it would come to this.
“Abi, call your dad, tell him to destroy everything he has on Phil. And Thomas,” I say, glaring at the van. I want Thomas to know I know he’s hiding.
“What? I don’t…why?” she questions, her eyes darting behind me, no doubt looking at Quinn for answers.
“Because it’s the only way for you to stay safe. Can your dad guarantee Quinn’s freedom if he does that?”
“But…” she refutes. Phil suddenly twists her arm behind her, threatening to snap it if she doesn’t obey.
“Ouch!” she cries but nods quickly, silently apologizing to me with her tears.
But I shake my head because no one is to blame but me.
“Mia, I never took you for a Good Samaritan. I mean, you were a drug dealer. You do remember that, right? I know you remember selling to whoring kids, accepting their dirty money with cum still on their chin.
“And I know you remember selling to Lacey,” he sneers, and I rub at my tattoo, remembering the memory all too well.
“I know what I did,” I counter with venom. “You’ll never let me forget it.”
Phil snickers, loving this back-and-forth banter.
“I’ll go with you,” I say, holding up my finger, “on one condition.”
Phil laughs, rubbing his jaw. “And what’s that?”
“You let everyone go, and you give me your word that no harm will ever come to them. Once this is done, you forget they exist. All of them,” I reiterate, as Cynthia is part of my bargaining.
Phil taps his chin, deep in thought. “And what if I agree to this little bargain and this little cherry pie’s daddy is still out for my blood?”
Swallowing down my terror, I reply, “If that happens, then I turn myself over and say I did it. I’ll confess to…Hank’s murder. I’ll confess to the drug dealing, to everything. I’ll take the fall for it all.”
I don’t hear or see Quinn, but I know he’s come to my rescue as Phil pulls a 9mm from the waistband of his pants and aims it at my temple.
“Take one more step, and she’s dead.” He presses the muzzle of the gun to my brow.
You’d think having a gun pressed to my temple would freak me out, but I’m so fucking tired, and if he blew my brains out right now, it would result in an endless slumber.
But I can’t rest until I’ve saved my family.
This won’t be over until I’m guaranteed their clemency.
“Quinn, it’s fine,” I say, extending my hand out behind me, asking him to retreat.
“Like hell it is!” he defies, and I know there’s no way he’ll back down without a fight.
However, he must submit because Phil lowers the gun, satisfied he no longer needs it for the time being.
“Do we have a deal?”
Phil taps his chin with the barrel of the 9mm, looking to be deep in thought. If he doesn’t say yes, then I don’t know what I’ll do. Because if he doesn’t say yes, then we all die.
“Well?”
“You’ve got my word,” he finally replies with a victorious sneer. “Welcome back.”
“NO!” Quinn roars, and I can hear his feet pounding on the gravel behind me as he desperately charges toward me.
