Page 67 of Gifts

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” I warn. “Who else do you work for besides Dooley who’d be fucking around out in the country? There was a shooting in the neighborhood where we met. I want to know who did it and I want to know who you were making a delivery for that day.”

He says nothing but his eyes flare.

I give him more of my weight and can’t help my hand from cinching around his neck. “Was it you?”

His head shakes. “No. No fucking way.”

“You know about it, though?”

He keeps shaking his head. “No.”

“I’ve got surveillance video, Ray,” I add. “It was a dark blue Chrysler. Late model 300. Who do you know who drives a ride like that?”

He stays silent, but we both jerk when we hear a gunshot. It’s close and came from the direction where Jarvis broke off from me.

Fuck.

Losing my temper once and for all after the longest and most intense couple weeks of my life, I get in his face and yell, “Tell me what you know or I’ll put a fucking bullet through your head without a second thought.”

I hear sirens and whip my head around when I hear someone coming.

Jarvis appears from around the corner of the dilapidated building like he’s out on a stroll for a fucking ice cream cone. “That was annoying and the cops are on their way. He tell you anything worthwhile yet?”

I look back down at Raymond. “I’ve got your parole officer on speed dial and the cops are looming. Talk.”

His breath becomes shallow and I loosen my hold on his throat. When the sirens get louder, he finally sputters, “I heard it was supposed to be a warning—just a warning. They didn’t even know why they were doing it. It was a paid job.”

A warning?

The sirens are getting louder and I don’t feel like dealing with the cops. We’ll be here all night. “Warning for who?”

“I don’t know, okay?” He cranes his neck around to look down the street. He wants to avoid the cops more than anyone. “Some chick, I think.”

I freeze right before my hand constricts around his neck again. “What chick? Fucking answer me!”

“If we don’t get outta here, we’ll be here all night,” Jarvis echoes my thoughts.

Raymond wheezes. “Some girl, but I don’t know why. It’s just what I heard. Like I said, it was a paid job.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if you kill him now, he’ll never be able to tell you who did it.” Jarvis is standing over us and, for the first time since I met him, is acting as the voice of reason.

I loosen my hold. “Who did it, dammit? Last chance.”

Lights from police cruisers peek around the corner.

“You’re in violation of your parole, Ray. Your choice,” I remind him.

He shakes his head and his jaw tenses before he gives. “Arsen and Jules, okay? But you can’t say it was me who gave ‘em up.”

I put all my weight on him before pushing off to stand and slip his gun into the back of my waistband.

“You gonna give me my gun back?” he asks.

“It’s a violation of your parole to have a weapon. I’d disappear if I were you, and the next time you see us, you’d better not fucking run,” Jarvis says.

Raymond shakes his head, but doesn’t waste any time. He disappears down a dark alley.

Jarvis and I make our way down the street at a normal pace.

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