Page 248 of Things We Hide from the Light
“I love you too. Now get the hell out of here so I can go be a hero.”
“I’m moving here,” Lina told Knox as they ducked down.
“Great. What happened to your arm?” Knox asked.
“The guy you hit in the face with the shovel shot me.”
“You fuckin’ kidding me?” I heard my brother snarl.
I waited until Lina had uncovered the Porsche and Knox loaded a white-faced Nolan into the passenger seat.
My brother threw me a salute then turned and ran low toward the barn door at the end of the arena.
Nolan flashed me a weak middle finger as Lina slid behind the wheel of the Porsche. I returned it grimly. “See you after,” she mouthed.
I blew her a kiss then took aim as the Porsche’s engine roared to life.
Dilton popped up from behind his cover aiming in Lina’s direction. I fired a split second before he pulled the trigger. He disappeared back behind the totes, clutching his arm.
He was a decent shot. But I was better and I knew his weakness.
“Nikos? Where the fuck are you?” Dilton bellowed as Lina hit the accelerator and the Porsche leapt forward. My girl’s triumphant “woohoo” carried to me on a cloud of dust left in the car’s wake. I grinned and used it as cover.
Staying low, I left the safety of the tractor and moved toward Dilton’s location. I needed to get eyes on him.
I ducked behind a smaller tractor with a post hole digger and peered under its belly.
Dilton was sweating and chewing his gum like his jaw was a piston. He was on his knees bellied up against a short stack of hay bales. His arms—one bleeding—were stretched out on top of the hay. In his hands, he clutched his prized Smith & Wesson six-shooter.
I fucking had him.
I took aim and fired, sending up a puff of rotting hay inches from him.
He fired an answering shot in the direction of the tractor.
“Dilton.”
He scrambled around on his knees in the sawdust as I stood up.
I stared into the eyes of the man who’d tried once to take my life, and looking into them, I knew he wouldn’t get a second chance.
“You know I gotta kill you now,” he said, gnawing nervously on his gum.
“I know you tried once.”
“Guess you really did get your memory back, didn’t you?” he said, gaining his feet.
“What I don’t get is why.”
“Why?” he scoffed. “You stole that job from a real man and pussified the entire fuckin’ department. I shoulda been chief. I did more for this goddamn town than you ever did.”
“Then why wait all these years before taking your shot?” I took another step closer.
He was sweating like my great-aunt Marleen at a Fourth of July cookout.
“I don’t fuckin’ know. Stay the hell where you are,” he said, holding his gun with both hands. The long, shiny barrel revealed the tremor in his grip.
“Maybe you didn’t think about doing anything until Duncan Hugo came along and put a bug in your ear.”
