Dark Game (Merikh Book 1) (12 page)

“What the hell are you talking about?” Galahad said. “We’re not gangsters. We’re not the bad guys.”

“She deserves it if she’s spying on us,” the woman said. “We’ve got a right to protect ourselves.”

“You two are insane,” Galahad replied. “I don’t know what’s going on, but the meth has made you lose your minds.”

“We have to protect our investment,” the woman said.

Galahad was done with the conversation. “Get out. I need to speak to our friend.”

“Bitch doesn’t need speaking to,” the man said. “Bitch needs a beating.”

“Leave, now.”

There was a pause and I imagined what was happening on the other side of the table. They were seething, angry, and ready to disobey him, but either Galahad’s charisma or a long time of following his orders was keeping them in check. The silence stretched for a few seconds longer before I heard the sound of two people turning and stomping back up the stairs.

“It’s time to wake up,” Galahad said. There was the sound of light slaps.

I moved out of cover, sneaking up behind the leader of Littleton. Galahad was bent over, his hands cupping Mouse’s face. I barely had to try.

I grabbed the man’s open shirt and yanked him backward, tripping him up and following him to the ground to cover his mouth.

“Surprise,” I said, holding my blade up for Galahad to see. “Keep quiet and you get to live. Understand?”

He nodded, his eyes wide, sweat breaking out on his forehead. I stepped away smoothly, keeping the knife ready.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Mouse said. I turned to her, momentarily forgetting my prisoner. “Do I strike you as a damsel in distress?”

“Right now, yes, actually.”

“I had a plan.”

“You have a bleeding head wound.”

“And a plan.”

Galahad interrupted, coughing softly to get our attention. “Excuse me, but who the hell are you people?”

“You’ll want to be quiet for a second,” Mouse said before continuing with me. “I was ready to go before you came crashing in here.” She squirmed against the tape for a moment and I moved to cut it for her. The look she gave me froze me in place, giving her time to complete what she’d evidently been planning all along. The sound of the tape tearing came a moment before she stood and showed me her own knife.

“That doesn’t mean it would have worked without me,” I said. I felt a little hurt for some reason, as though her being capable of taking care of herself was somehow an insult to me. Sometimes I’m an idiot.

“I’ve been doing this—”

“Longer than I’ve been alive, yes, I know.”

“I really need to know what your plans are,” Galahad said quickly, fitting himself into the gaps of our conversation. “Not to rush you or anything, but my people will be back here soon.” He stepped back when our eyes fixed on him. “They’ve become a little uncontrollable lately. That’s all.”

“He’s being really helpful,” Mouse said. “I almost feel bad about what I was going to do to him.”

“Was going to?” he said. He had his hands raised in front of him and he let them drop a little in relief. “Past tense?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said. “Where’s Trevor Foster?”

“Dude walked away. I don’t think he liked what we were saying.”

“Foster was here?” Mouse said. “What did he want?”

Galahad answered before I could. “He wanted to warn us. Said the cops were gunning for us and we should be careful. That’s all.”

Someone ran overhead, dislodging dust from the beams in the roof of the cellar. A flurry of activity followed with more people running back and forth. A door slammed and someone shouted. Before we could react the door at the top of the stairs flew open and a large man in army fatigues and sporting a crew cut burst through.

“What the hell?” he said, only pausing for a moment before charging the rest of the way down the stairs.

I took up a stance and tried to judge his weight and velocity, how much maneuverability he’d have when he hit the ground. He looked in control but I reached out and grabbed him as his foot left the bottom step, twisted around and pulled, guiding him to the floor face first. He hit with a wet slap and lay still.

“Shit,” Galahad said, over and over. “Shit, shit, shit, man.”

“The window?” Mouse said. Her eyes lingered on the guy on the floor a little longer than I would have liked.

“Let’s,” I said, pushing her toward it. I turned to Galahad, who was looking a little sick. “I trust you’ll stay here until we’re gone?” He nodded, and he was scared enough that I believed him. “Don’t try anything.”

“Not my style,” he mumbled. He backed away until he stopped against a chair and couldn’t retreat any further.

“Cops,” a man yelled from the door above us. I turned to look and the man paused at the top of the stairs, staring at me like I was an alien come to kidnap him.

Mouse was through the window and I didn’t have time to deal with another witness. I joined her, pulling myself through and on to the damp and trampled weeds.

“The sheriff is here?” she said. From the side of the house we couldn’t see anyone but the flashing lights from their cars lit up the trees overhead.

“This night keeps getting better and better.” I gestured to the back of the house and the route I’d taken to get there. I knew the way and there was less chance of getting turned around in Littleton.

Three people were running from the house as we crossed the back yard. They jumped when they saw us but kept running. They were no threat. I realized the music was gone when the sound of someone demolishing the front door reached us in the newly still evening.

We made it around the side of the house and stopped before crossing to the relative safety of the trees. A handful of men and women in county sheriff uniforms stood in a half circle before the front door, their guns drawn and ready. None of them were looking our way and I decided to risk it.

We dashed, crossing the brightly lit section and stopping at the base of the tree.

“This is why I don’t go into the field,” Mouse said. She was breathing heavy and clung to the tree for support. Her eyes focused everywhere and nowhere, the start of panic.

“Don’t move,” someone yelled from the house. I grabbed Mouse and pulled her behind the tree as they fired. The bullet went wide but I could feel Mouse giving up. She slumped, her face resting on the rough bark, her muscles beginning to relax.

“Not now.” I tried it soft at first, hoping she’d hear me despite what was going on in her head. When that didn’t work: “Angelica, get your ass up. Now.”

She looked at me like I’d threatened to hit her, in that she was about to kill me. If there’s one thing that’s predictable about Mouse it’s that she doesn’t take shit from anyone. Normally.

“I’m good,” she said, but I was barely listening. The music was gone and I could hear the deputies approaching.

I’m a killer, and I’m good at it, but these guys were just doing their job. I’d defend us if I had to, but I had no interest in hurting them if it wasn’t necessary.

I pushed her toward the darkness of the woods and stepped out from behind the tree with my hands up. Three deputies were coming. They stopped in their tracks and trained their weapons on me. I could hear Mouse escaping behind me.

“Get down,” a female deputy said, gesturing with her gun. More had arrived at the house and were barreling inside. I had a moment before this got unwieldy. I dropped to my knees and held my hands out at my sides.

“Cuff him,” one of the remaining men said. They were flustered, excited and scared and forgetting their training. Their eyes were as wild as Mouse’s and they kept checking each other and the shadows for danger when I was right in front of them.

The woman reached for my left hand, her entire focus on making contact with me. The one giving the orders looked back at the house and the third, positioned between the two, looked down at his gun.

I took the woman’s hand and twisted her between me and the others. As they realized what was happening I already had her gun out of her hand and was throwing it at the guy in the middle. I missed my target – his gun hand – but I hit him in the chest and he stepped back. He was no longer aiming at me, leaving only the guy in the back.

I pushed the woman forward and ducked behind the tree, then ran for the woods. Nobody fired after me and I was halfway to the road before I heard anyone moving through the brush.

I hit the road and stopped dead with another gun trained on me. Three heavies in normal clothes were grinning at us, pistols at the ready. They didn’t look like police so I figured they must be Littleton enforcers.

Mouse had her hands up and a determined look on her face. I kept my distance and raised my own hands so they could see I wasn’t a threat.

“There’s a bunch of deputies coming up behind me, boys,” I said. “They’re chasing me but they’ll take you if you’re here.”

“Shut up,” one of them said, his grin never leaving his face. “We brought her in once and we can do it again. Pig.”

“Not a cop,” Mouse said.

“Sure,” another replied. I could hear the approach behind me, a lot of people trampling half the woods to get me. Things were about to explode with bullets and I had no interest in being there when it happened.

I moved slowly toward Mouse, crab walking so they could always see my hands. Their guns followed me but nobody did anything about it. Shooting someone is harder than they make it look in the movies. If I didn’t give them a reason, I was hoping they’d let us walk.

“We need to leave,” I said. “All of us. Can’t you hear that?” I pointed to the trees and the noise they could surely hear by now. “I don’t want to get shot and I doubt you want to, either. Just run and we can all get out of here in one piece.”

I reached her and took her hand before walking backwards in the direction I thought the van was. Their aim never left us but they didn’t shoot either, so we were doing alright. Then a gun fired from the woods and a bullet tore through Mouse.

They must have seen us before they spotted the other guys. After what I’d done to them, and with what was going on tonight, they’d shot without thinking.

Mouse spun away from me, keeping on her feet but crying out. Her hands slapped over her side and applied pressure like it was something she did all the time. I grabbed her and dragged her down the road as answering gunfire erupted from our former captors.

With a more pressing threat in their sights, nobody followed us. I didn’t let us stop until we reached the van. It still stood with the door open. I pushed Mouse inside and slammed it shut before dashing around to the driver side and starting it up.

“I think this is bad,” she said as I put my foot down and the van lurched forward.

“You’ll be fine. We’ll get you some help.”

“No, I meant you driving.” She laughed and it turned into a cough, then a moan. When she could speak again, she went on. “I don’t think we’ll make it.”

“Suck it up, buttercup. I’m new at this, sure, but I’m good at everything.”

Blood spilled around her fingers.

“And so modest.”

“Keep your hands on the wound. We’ll be there soon.”

In that moment I had no idea where
there
was going to be, but I floored it, anyway.

Chapter 10

Where was I going? I couldn’t take her to the hospital; they report gunshot wounds. I can do triage in a pinch but I wasn’t up to the kind of attention she’d need. Breaking into a doctor’s office and doing impromptu surgery is the kind of thing people do in movies, but in reality it’s a great way to get people killed.

My mind turned to the only real option: ambrosia. If I could get her a bottle of that, she’d be fine. She’d be better than fine; she’d be bouncing off the walls with fresh energy.

The dirt track finally ended at a proper road, and I turned onto it with no real idea where we were. I headed in the direction of the town and hoped for some signs. At least we weren’t bouncing around anymore.

Mouse was pale and groaning, twisting in her seat as though trying to get away from the pain in her side. The blood flow had slowed down and I couldn’t remember if that was a good thing or not. Did that mean she was stabilizing or on the verge of death?

I couldn’t do anything about it either way. I focused on the road, taking a turn that angled us more toward Midway. There weren’t many roads this far outside town and they all led either to the town or the highway at some point. I could find my way from the highway if that was what I had to do.

My mind buzzed with the thought that this was all my fault. I’d lost focus and missed what was happening in the van. I’d left her defenseless because I couldn’t keep from jumping into a fight that had nothing to do with me.

I could hear her voice in my head, telling me that it showed I was a good person. But I’m not a good person; I’m a killer. Born and raised to snuff out life, and I couldn’t control myself enough to keep from beating on people fresh out of high-school.

Mouse and I made an agreement when we decided to run together. She and her husband had a policy of not taking a job that involved an innocent person, for a specific definition of innocent. If I wanted to join her in her new venture, I had to agree to the same. I had to play by her rules.

I agreed because I had no other choice, not because I’m a good person. I figured if Mouse wanted to pretend she was something she wasn’t – and try to be my conscience in the process – then more power to her. I had escaped and I knew I needed help, and I could fake it if I needed to.

What I didn’t know at the time was that Mouse actually was a good person. She had an interesting take on morality and flexibility toward legality, but deep down she thought what we were doing was a service to humanity. Serial killers probably think the same thing, I know, but it matters to me.

She didn’t understand that I don’t think that way. I’m a bad person, raised to be worse. When I see the opportunity for a fight, I jump. I know it even if she doesn’t.

The road led to town, thankfully. Looking at her, I wasn’t sure she would have made it if I’d made a wrong turn. Her breathing was shallow and her hands had gone slack over the wound. The blood had stopped flowing. I was now pretty sure that wasn’t a good thing.