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Jace had been on edge since Corey had tricked him into admitting that Rick had lied about where the order to steal the prosecutor’s kid had come from. Corey had been too nice. Too gentle. Too patient. Too lenient, only asking Jace to drive him rather than backhanding him.
Something’s wrong. Corey could have driven himself. No reason to drag me along.
Something was going to happen, and Jace didn’t think he was going to like it when it did. But he stayed quiet because, although he might be stupid, he wasn’t a fool.
Jace followed Corey’s directions into a nice neighborhood with tree-lined streets and well-kept lawns. People jogged or walked on the sidewalks. A few waved as they drove by.
It was nice. Just like it had been living with Aaron and Dianne before Liam got sick.
“Here,” Corey snapped. “Stop here.”
Jace obeyed, daring to glance in his brother’s direction. “Why are we here?”
“We’re making a delivery.” He shoved a ski mask into Jace’s hand, then yanked one over his own head. “Put this on, since you and Rick are so keen on them. Meet me at the back.”
Bile rose in Jace’s throat as he pulled the mask over his head. Not again. Please. He met Corey behind the minivan as Corey opened the hatch, revealing a lumpy, rolled-up quilt.
Jace swallowed. Feet stuck out the end of the quilt. Shoeless feet.
He recognized those feet. Rick. It was Rick in that rolled-up quilt.
But how? Who put him there? When did they put him there? And why?
“Get it out,” Corey demanded. “Fireman’s carry, just like you did yesterday.”
Jace stood, frozen. “But—”
Corey shot him an icy glare. “I said, get it out. Now.”
It. Not him. It. Jace shuddered. “Is he alive?”
Corey gave him a look that chilled him to the bone. “Get it out of the van now.”
“But—”
Corey grabbed his collar and jerked him so hard that he stumbled. “You lied to me. Your punishment is to get it out of the van and put it on the prosecutor’s front lawn. Do it now.”
We’re turning Rick in? That couldn’t be true. Corey wouldn’t...
But he would. He was.
Tears stung Jace’s eyes. “I c-c-can’t.”
“You c-c-can,” Corey mocked. “And you will unless you want me to leave you here with him. The cops’ll be happy to get their hands on you. You can be with Aaron again. In prison.” He unzipped his jacket halfway, showing the gun in his shoulder holster. “Or I can put a bullet in your head right here and now. Your call.”
Jace stared at the gun, frozen. Rick said he’d kill us. Rick had been right.
Corey sneered. “What? You don’t think I’ll do it?”
No, Jace knew that he would. He hauled the rolled-up quilt over his shoulder. If he thought about it as a quilt and not as his brother... That was the only way he’d be able to do it.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out, hoping Rick could hear him. “I’m so sorry.”
Please still be alive. Corey couldn’t have killed his own brother. Yeah. He could.
“Hurry up,” Corey hissed, getting back into the van. “We don’t have all night.”
Jace took a few steps toward Cardozo’s front yard but stumbled again. Hefting the quilt higher on his shoulder, he pushed forward. Just a few more steps.
