Bounty (Page 167)

My cousin Rudy.

Here to steal. Steal from me. Take a Lonesome legacy so he could smoke it, inject it, whatever the fuck he did to feed his need.

Here to steal.

Steal my father from me.

“Like I said, I’m not lettin’ you take that from her, bud,” Deke returned.

At that, I knew. I knew why Deke looked into my house and didn’t take us right back to his truck, get away, call the cops.

He saw they were taking my dad from me.

So he pushed me to safety and he went in.

God.

Deke.

“Just get on your fuckin’ stomach!” Rudy suddenly shrieked.

I shoved the gun up under my jacket and in the back waistband of my jeans.

“Rudy,” I called softly, lifting up from my crouch and moving into the room carefully.

Rudy’s attention, and the barrel of his gun, swung to me.

Having a gun pointed at me sent surges of adrenaline screaming through me and it did not feel good.

“Jussy,” he whispered.

“Justice, get in the safe room,” Deke growled. “Now.”

Rudy swung the gun back to Deke because he’d started moving toward me.

Having the gun aimed at Deke felt worse.

Deke stopped.

“Rudy,” I called again, wanting his attention on me.

He was fucked up, wasted by a life he shouldn’t have lived, brought low not realizing when the time was right to give up the dream and try for a new one.

But he’d never hurt me.

Steal from me, sure.

But we were Lonesomes.

We got it.

We were family.

No way he’d hurt me.

“Jussy, goddammit,” Deke bit off.

“How’d you get in, honey?” I asked Rudy.

“Not hard, Jus, code was your dad’s birthday,” he said.

“I coded it European,” I said, like he didn’t know that since he’d obviously figured it out.

“Yeah, that was what we got. Fourth time was a charm.”

“Justice,” Deke cut in.

“Put the gun down, Rudy,” I ordered.

“You need to get this guy to back off, Jus,” he returned, indicating Deke with the gun.

“Please, Rudy,” I started moving cautiously forward.

“Justice.” It was a muted roar from Deke, a command not to be disobeyed.

But Deke was bleeding.

And this was my cousin.

I shifted farther forward.

“Fuck,” Deke hissed.

“We’ll talk this out, you need something, we’ll talk it out, see how I can help you,” I lied. No way I was talking shit out with him. He’d sunk this low, like Mav, he had to face the consequences. He could straighten out in jail. “But you have to put the gun down first.”

He turned it to me. “Stop moving, Jus.”

I stopped but he instantly aimed the gun back to Deke.

“You stop moving too, asshole.”

Deke lifted both hands in a placating gesture.

“Fuckin’ shot him, he still charged in like a maniac, took out my boy,” Rudy clipped, attention on Deke, but he was telling me this story.

I didn’t doubt that from Deke.

But I didn’t think on it.

I could see Rudy’s hand shaking and I didn’t think that was a good thing.

Deke started shifting to me.

“I said stop fucking moving!” Rudy screamed.

“Take it,” I said quickly and Rudy’s attention came back to me. “Take them. Get your guy. Both of you get out. Take them. All of them. Let me and Deke walk out of here and you just take them, Rudy.”

Rudy thought about that for a second before his face twisted in the moonlight and he snapped, “You’re not gonna just let me walk outta here.”

I was.

The cops that would be here in about two minutes would not and I needed Deke and me in the safe room when they rolled up and took care of business.

That said, Rudy could have the guitars, the house, I’d cut off my hair and give it to him if that meant Deke was safe.

Safe with me.

“The most important thing in this room to me is Deke. Take the guitars. Take the awards. Take the records. Take whatever you want. Just let us walk away.”

Rudy looked again at Deke and screeched, “Motherfucker! I said stop moving!”

The next moments happened in a flash that still played out like a drawn-out nightmare that lasts for decades, centuries, all of it you know you can’t escape by waking.

Because it was real.

The guy on the floor that Deke had taken out had come to and he was turning. I noticed. I cried out Deke’s name.

Deke moved, fast, to me.

I pulled out his gun.

And the room exploded in ear-splitting noise. Gunshot. Lots of them. So many, I couldn’t hear a thing but the blasts and ringing.

Deke tackled me and I hit the ground with a jarring thud, Deke on me.

He wrested the gun from my grip, rolled, his weight full on me, back to my front, my back pressed to the floor, and he fired.

And fired.

And fired.

I felt his body jerk unnaturally, no thoughts about that except it being the kick of the gun, my hands moving to his waist, holding on.

Then, silence.

Nothing.

“Deke,” I breathed.

He rolled again, to the side, sliding off me.

Other than that, he didn’t move, his back to my side now.

I smelled gunpowder mingled with pine and lay still.

No movement, no sound.

Not from Rudy. His partner.

Not from Deke.

Not from Deke.

I sat up fast, scanning, seeing both other men. Rudy was on his back, not moving with a stillness that was eerie. The other guy was on his side, the same way.