Page 18 of Wicked Ends
He’d swayed, and Cole had marched over and grabbed the end of his rifle.
“That’s enough,” he’d said through gritted teeth. “You’re too wasted to take the shot. I won’t let you.”
Frank hadn’t liked that one bit. “Oh, won’t you? You think you’re tough shit now that you’re bigger than me? Being bad is about more than feet and inches, boy.”
Frank had pressed the rifle into Cole’s chest.
“If you’re so worried about it, you do it.”
“No way,” my brother had said immediately.
Relief hit me. Cole wouldn’t let this happen. He wouldn’t.
“You do it, or I do it. It’s a game, Cole, and Marcus wants to play. For once, he actually wants to play something interesting and fun. He’s being useful. Don’t ruin it for him.”
“No one is taking that shot.”
Frank had looked over at me and jerked his head toward Cole. “Tell your brother you want to play. Go on.”
Nerves had hit me in the gut. I was already terrified standing there, but now, some insidious need to please Frank had welled up inside me. I couldn’t be the one to back down. I couldn’t be the party pooper. Maybe if I did a good job, my father would finally love me.
God, I was weak, and Frank knew it.
“It’s okay,” I’d told Cole. “I trust you.”
Cole had glared at me with a hint of disgust. “I’m not doing it, Marcus.”
“Then I’ll do it,” Frank had said and jerked the gun back from Cole.
“No, I want Cole to do it,” I’d called out, terrified that my father might get the gun again.
I’d wet my lips and stared my brother in the eye.
“I trust you,” I’d murmured.
Cole had looked like he was being torn in half. And I supposed he was. But he’d picked up the rifle and steadied himself. Then he’d raised it toward me. He’d seemed to don a mantle then, a heavy weight settling across his features.
The pressure and responsibility of keeping me safe had been on his shoulders from that moment on. I owed my brother an unpayable debt, and I could never forget it.
Arianna
A knockat the door woke me instead of my phone alarm.
I stumbled out of bed and wrenched open the door in a daze. Earl stood there.
“I’m sorry for waking you. I know you were starting work today, and being that it’s eight-thirty, I thought?—”
“It’s eight-thirty?!” Panic flooded me.
“Sure is.”
“My alarm didn’t go off! I’m late!” I stared at Earl, frozen with fear for a second.
“Well, best get a move on, I reckon,” Earl said. “You can make it if you hustle.”
His words broke through the paralysis gluing me to the floor, and I snapped into action. After the fastest shower known to man, I threw on the outfit I’d left over my chair the night before, shoving my feet into shoes, and grabbed my purse, throwing things into it like a woman possessed. Approximately four minutes later, I was in the car and heading to campus. I’dalready figured out the route over the weekend, and now, I went as fast as I dared.
I parked near the staff entrance to the music school. I had my notes for this class. The topics I was teaching that day were as familiar to me as my own name. Well, my real one anyway. Music had always been my passion, though I hadn’t always expected to teach it. Once, I’d dreamed of playing in front of full auditoriums.
