Page 159 of Strays
“What’s in Bushkill?” I ask.
“A house. She’s waiting there for her buyer. That’s it. Please.”
I feel the tremor under my ribs and my throat vibrating with a growl, the same low sound coming from Jay and Shane.
I can’t kill him.
I can’t kill him.
I can’t kill the man who sold my mate.
His breathing is shallow from the pain. His hand already looks like a balloon, swollen and red.
“When?” Jay snarls at him.
“Tonight. Anytime now.”
Jay hisses through his teeth.
We look at each other. We can’t go after her now; it’d be useless. She won’t be there by the time we reach Pennsylvania.
Jay looks at us and gives a tense nod, letting us know that he’s got a plan. Shane and I nod back; whatever it is, we trust him.
“This is what you’re going to do,” Jay says, the rage in his voice barely contained. “You’re going to call them. No code. No signal. Tell them the deal’soff, that you’ve got a new buyer. An old, good friend of yours, someone who wants her bad enough to pay double. But she needs to be brought here to him now.”
Aranya’s eyes go even wider. “They won’t believe me,” he says, shaking his head over and over.
“Well,” I say quietly, “you’d better take a deep breath and make it convincing. She’s your life insurance now. If she’s not here in two hours, you’re dead. And I promise you it won’t be fast or clean.”
He swallows. “There’s a phone in the lower drawer,” he says.
Jay grabs it and flips it open. It’s a basic burner.
“The number,” he says.
Jay dials as Aranya dictates it, then puts it on speaker. The classical music still drifts in the background, but I leave it. Maybe they know Aranya listens to this shit. Let it sound normal.
The line clicks. Once. Twice. Then connects.
A man answers, his voice low, tired and distracted. “Talk.”
Aranya speaks, eyes still wide, locked on Jay. His voice is a little shaken, but subtly. “Change of plan. I got a new offer for the nyra. Twice the price.”
Silence.
Then: “Who?”
Jay’s finger hovers near the mute button, just in case, but Aranya seems more composed now.
“An old friend,” he says. “But he wants to see her before closing the deal. He’s coming to my office.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“You sure?” the man asks, voice louder now. “Gussy must be arriving at the house to collect her. You sure you want to blow a deal with him?”
My hand tightens on the back of the chair.
Aranya’s jaw twitches. “I’ll deal with Gussy. I’ll find him another nyra,” he says. “This buyer’s a good friend, and willing to pay the right price.”
