Page 186 of Five Mountain Daddies

“Because what happened to Atticus is going to happen toyou.”

I step closer, gun held straight and steady at his skull. “What happened tohim?”

He laughs. “I’d rather take a bullet than fucking tell you,pig.”

Anger rages through me. “We used to befriends.”

He sneers at me. “Friends? I was just some fucking nerd youpitied.”

“No,” I saysoftly.

“The Niners are the only people that ever cared aboutme.”

I stare at him, completely horrified. He looks like a monster, a shadow of the guy I used to know. I grip the gun and for a second, I picture what it would be like to kill him. Part of me wants to do it. This bastard is destroying this city, along with his gang friends, but it’s more than that. For me, it’s fuckingpersonal.

I really did think we were friends. I trusted him, wanted to see him again, and he wanted to murder me. All for this fucking gang. I grip the gun, handshaking.

He grins at me, eyes wide. “Do it, Reap,” he says. “I wouldn’t havehesitated.”

I relax my grip and shake my head. I pull my phone out of my pants and quickly pull a number up. I keep my eyes on Reggie as the phonerings.

“Hey, Wyatt,” Mitchsays.

“Do you rememberReggie?”

“Shit, yeah, I do,” Mitch answers quickly. “Listen, Wyatt, he’s not the same guy you knew back in highschool—“

“I have him here at gunpoint,” I say. “He tried to killme.”

Mitch is silent for a second. “Where areyou?”

I explain the best I can. “You’ll see mycar.”

“I think I know the spot. You hang tight. We’ll be theresoon.”

“Got it.” I hang up and Reggie startslaughing.

“Who the fuck was that?” he asksme.

“That was the end for you,” I say to him softly. “I really did think we werefriends.”

His laugh cracks through the air, sending chills down myspine.

21

Cora

My mom doesn’t look at me when she opens a second bottle of wine. I don’t say anything, but the room’s tenseanyway.

Some old Western movie is on TV. Mom sits on the bed, propped up with pillows, drinking. I lean back in my chair by the table, stretching mylegs.

“This shouldn’t last much longer,” I say, breaking the silence. I’ve been here for maybe ten minutes and we’ve barely beentalking.

“Yeah, I know,” she says, not looking atme.

“Mom, comeon.”

“What?” She drinks her wine. “I can’t have a drink to loosenup?”

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