Page 29 of Degradation
‘Wouldn’t be the first time,’ I shrug. ‘Better safe than sorry.’
‘How much more do you have on your debt?’
I slip on some sneakers. ‘A few grand.’
‘Still?’
I let out a low, mirthless laugh. ‘My pop is a little like yours, I guess. Doesn’t do shit in half-measures. Guess that’s why he’s doing life.’
‘If I could help?—’
I put up a hand to stop my friend’s well-meaning words. ‘I know you’d do something if you could, but I’d rather just work off the money owed and be done with it. It’s not your problem, bro.’
Shade nods, resigned, and I turn to go.
‘Blake.’
I swing back and incline my head at him.
‘I’m sorry. About before.’
‘We’re cool,’ I say, glancing at Daisy. ‘I know you care about her, but you’re not the only one who does, Shade. Remember that.’
‘I know,’ he murmurs.
‘Tell her I had to... Just tell her I’ll be back later, okay?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And ask Mav to pick her up a burger from that spot near Richmond proper. She hasn’t eaten anything all day.’
‘Never thought I’d see you like this,’ Shade chuckles.
‘Giving a shit about Daisy?’
‘Giving a shit about any girl.’
I regard the small figure in the black robe who’s still sleeping in my bed. ‘Never met one who I thought was worth it before.’
I leave the house quickly, going to the parking lot and hot wiring one of the older models in the lot. I grew up jacking cars to go joyriding, so this is child’s play. I leave Richmond U and drive thirty minutes to a bar just off the interstate in the next town over. I back into a space, so I can leave in a hurry if I need to and grab a few things out of my bag. A ski mask goes over my face and Eric Blake is no more.
I walk around the building slowly, but I already know the cameras are just for show. None of them are connected. I was here a few months back to give them their first warning. Sliding on some brass knuckles, I stretch a little as I make my way across the yard, getting ready for the inevitable.
At the back of the bar, I go in through an unlocked door. I can hear low music and some chatter at the end of the narrow corridor. I touch my gun in the pocket of my black jacket as I tap out a quick text with my other hand, just to make double sure it’s there if I need it.
Here.
Past a dingy kitchen and a bathroom that stinks of more than just shit, my neck prickles, but I keep going. I get to the bar. Three dirty-looking rednecks sit at a table playing cards in the dim light emitted by a couple of neon signs. There are a few handguns on the table across the room and some shotguns by the window. I roll my eyes. Who do they think is coming for them, a whole militia?
No, assholes, it’s just me today, but you’re gonna wish it wasn’t.
Smiling to myself, I lean against the wall to wait for them to learn I’m here from the boss, since not one of the jackasses has noticed me yet.
I hear a beep and the scraggly one with the longest beard picks up what looks to me like a burner phone. He frowns as he reads the message, and I get ready for my big reveal. But ten seconds later and he’s still reading it.
Jesus fucking Christ.
One of the others finally looks up.
