Page 85 of With A Little Luck
I believe her name is Sutton, but I barely spared her a glance. She came over to ask if I had any information on Quincy.
I lied through my teeth, assuring her that as far as I knew, Quincy was at home resting. After all, she looked rundown the last time I saw her in the restaurant.
Although, I should probably encourage Quincy to check her phone when I make it back to Ridge’s. Otherwise, thehelpfulfriend might get concerned and pop by Quincy’s empty house, which would only open another can of worms.
“The jewelry store closes in twenty-five minutes,” I growl, taking off down the alley. I could have used the front sidewalks, but my phone assured me this route would shave off two minutes. It’s already getting dark, despite it not even being five p.m. Winter in Vermont is ridiculous. “I’ve spent all day following Easton’s orders. If he doesn’t like it, he can fire me.”
I haven’t been paid, making that threat rather innocuous.
“I’ll let you pass on that message,” Knox says, again picking up his pace to try to keep up with me. “You’re not, like, planning to buy Quincy a ring or anything? Right? A necklace would?—”
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and something niggles at my senses. It’s a half-second choice to act,and I spin, shoving Knox to the wall with one hand slammed into his sternum.
He lets out a ridiculousoomph, but I’m already reaching for my Glock with my dominant hand.
I always use a holster capable of accommodating a suppressor, which is convenient, considering we’re on the edge of town. There’s no need to draw extra attention to ourselves.
The gun isn’t technically illegal, but the silencer is another story.
Movement from behind the dumpster that Knox and I just walked past catches my eye, and I pivot, lining up to take my shot.
Jesus.
I didn’t even sense him.
That sets a bad precedent.
His eyes go wide as he spots me, and he gets his shit together, aiming at me faster than I would like. The lowwhooshof his silenced shot being fired pushes me to act. His bullet flies past my head, only missing my ear by a few inches. It was too close for comfort, that’s for damn sure.
My bullet lands in his chest, and his body jolts. That wasn’t where I was aiming, and I frown, lining up for a follow-up shot, but one of Easton’s snipersfinallydoes their job. The side of his head explodes against the brick wall of the alleyway.
Another assailant pops up, keeping low as he attempts to flee. I course correct from my last shot, focusing on his skull, but his neck snaps to the side, the shot clearly taken by one of the snipers. The bullet entered mid-cranium and exited through his jaw, by the looks of it. Although, they are ten to fifteen feet away, so it’s difficult to be sure.
Either way, it’s going to be an ugly sight. Here’s hoping Knox has a stronger stomach than he’s led me to believe.
This is a fucking nightmare.
My internal clock says I have less than twenty minutes left to make it to the jewelry store and pick out a ring for Quincy.
“Goddammit,” I growl, jogging forward while scanning for additional adversaries. If two decided to show themselves, there could be more just waiting to pop up to ruin my proposal plans.
Coming around the edge of the dumpster, I keep my finger on the trigger, just in case there is a third who was too frightened to act.
There’s not.
The first body lies slumped against the dumpster with vacant eyes and a half-open mouth. Blood pools beneath him, soaking into the concrete.
“Fuck,” Knox says, reaching my side. “How do we cover this up?”
Sighing, I holster my weapon and reach for my wallet. “We need at least three or four two liters of Coke and a few quarts of motor oil.” I shove a hundred at him and put my wallet away. “But first, I need your help getting these bodies into the dumpster.”
Pulling out my phone, I text Easton.
Hopefully you have a contact with a garbage truck capable of handling a dumpster. You’d better get your guys down here to keep an eye on it until it can be removed.I check the time, and my teeth grind together.I have eighteen minutes to purchase a ring.
By the way, I hate this job.
There.
