“Do you think it would piss Mack off if I shoot David?”
“Well, I think it would probably mess their whole thing up. But who could blame you, really? I mean, we’re fairly sure he’s involved in your sister’s disappearance. We know he’s involved in other women disappearing, and he’s a lousy kisser.” Quinn giggles as she says the last part. We are on our second cocktail each since David and his date seem to be taking their sweet ass time with their evening together.
What Quinn did not add, and if I have anything to do with she’ll never even know about, is that David was originally planning to sell her as well. Even if he had nothing to do with my sister, I want to hurt him for that. And by hurt, I mean torture. In ways that would take days for him to die.
I order a third cocktail as well as an appetizer. Quinn is only halfway through her second drink, but she’ll need something to help soak the alcohol up.
“Is it because you own a bar?” she asks. I wait for her to continue the question as it’s very much like Quinn to ask the second half of a question first, thinking you’ll either wait for her to clarify, or you’ll magically know what she’s talking about.
“That you have such a high tolerance for booze?”
“No,” I say. “It’s because I’m Russian. We start drinking vodka before we are even off the tit.”
We both laugh, even though I’m hardly exaggerating. Much.
I look over to David’s table, the smile still stuck on my face. Which is when he looks over and our eyes meet. His own light up for a minute, until recognition hits and he realizes who I am and who I’m with. Giving me more than enough time to replace the mirth on my face with fury. If I could kill him with my stare, I would be doing so right now. Instead, I raise my right hand, point my thumb and index finger into the shape of a gun, and mouth the word, “POW” as I pretend to shoot.
His face pales as he turns his attention back to his date.
“Did you just finger shoot David?”
“Yes, I did.”
“You’re such a badass, Daria.” Quinn giggles again as the server drops off my cocktail and the appetizer that I ordered. My phone vibrates from inside my pocket. I smile a thanks at the server at the same time as I pull it out to see who’s calling.
Mack.
I push the button to answer, bringing it up to my ear.
“Why are you calling me?” I ask at the same time he says, “What in the fuck are you doing?”
So, I say, “Having cocktails.” While he says, “Because you’re really close to fucking shit up. Do not engage.”
“I have to go.” I hang up on Mack. Which I know will piss him off even further. But there’s nothing he can do about it now. He’s in the middle of an operation and does not have time to deal with me and David Tremblay. Who appears to be getting up and leaving with his date. I look at the time, it’s only been forty-five minutes. Where could they be going so soon?
“Let’s go,” I tell Quinn.
“Go where?”
“He’s leaving. We’re following.” I find our server in the restaurant and slip her a one-hundred-dollar bill. “This should cover it. Keep the change. We have an emergency. Everything was great.”
Our total wasn’t more than thirty dollars, it’s happy hour pricing. But I will always, always over tip waitstaff no matter what. I know from owning a bar the job is shitty, the tips can be even worse, it’s hard to be on your feet all day schlepping around hot food and dirty plates, listening to people bitch about their order. It’s got to be one of the most thankless industries around. So, whenever I can, I try to take care of them.
I wind through the cars in the lot and across the street to where I parked. My Audi purrs to life as I push the button to start it, the seats rumbling beneath us.
“God, how do you not orgasm every time you drive this beautiful beast?” Quinn asks.
“Who says I don’t?” I wink at her, then turn up the music and fall in behind the near convoy now following David Tremblay and his date.
The plan I have for David has nothing to do with Mack and his strategy. Or even the safety of the girl. All I’m doing tonight is making sure David realizes his days are numbered. Maybe he’ll make it to his wedding, maybe he won’t. I just want to put a little fear into him while I still can. Before he’s arrested or someone else takes him out.
I already know, from everything I’ve read, that he’ll drug the girl at a stoplight or stop sign, then head in another direction toward the drop house. All of which seems to take a lot longer than I expected it to.
Finally, David starts to head into a seedy part of town. Not so bad that you worry about your car being stolen, but bad enough there’s no neighborhood watch either. He pulls his car up in front of a nondescript beige house with a blue door. Mack and Reed stop their SUV about half a block back. I circle around the next block and park where I’m sure the house behind this one is. I pull my Ruger from under my seat. My girly gun. It’s small, pink, and fits seamlessly in my pocket.
“Stay here,” I tell Quinn as I pull the lever for the trunk.
“I want to go too,” she whines.
“No, I may need you to drive the getaway car in a hurry.”
“Oh, okay!” She scrambles out of the passenger seat and over to the driver’s side.
“I’ll call you,” I tell her as I grab a rifle from my trunk and tuck it flush under my arm, so the gun’s mostly hidden beneath my flesh. I’m perched in the tree, diagonal to the house David is headed to, before he’s out of his car.
My god, he moves slow.
I watch as Mack motions to Reed and they flank the front of the house. David leaves the girl in the car and disappears inside. Mack and Reed follow silently behind a moment later. I wait to hear gunfire and yelling, the cries of scared women, and the thuds of bodies falling.
I get nothing.
I climb down from the tree and make my way toward the house and hear Mack and Reed talking to David inside.
“Where the fuck is everyone, Tremblay?” Mack’s deep voice echoes through the empty room.
“I don’t know, man. I swear this is the address they gave me.”
“David, I warned you about this. I told you that you must cooperate in order for me to protect you. If you don’t, I can’t help,” Reed says.
“I am cooperating, this is the address they gave me. Look.”
He must show them his phone or something, because I hear murmurs of concession followed by footsteps nearing the front door. I tuck back into the shadows on the side of the house and wait for the men to appear.
Mack.
Reed.
David.
I raise my gun, the small one, no need for the rifle at this distance, and aim for the dirt near David’s left foot.
BAM!
A gunshot cracks through the air.
But it’s not mine.
The dirt in front of David spits up, blanketing him in dust. Mack tackles him to the ground, covering him. Reed flattens to his stomach, returning fire in the same general direction the gunshot came from. Three more shots sprinkle around the area where Mack and David lay.
“Where the fuck is it coming from, Reed?” Mack yells. “Can you cover?”
“No.” Reed runs to a nearby street scanning the area around the house and across the street.
“It’s that crazy bitch, I know it,” David yells from beneath Mack. “Get me the fuck out of here!”
I’m quite sure David means me. I’m disappointed that I didn’t fire the warning shots. Which is clearly what they were or else the guy is a shit shot. But with that gun—a .300 Win Mag by the sound of it—I don’t think that is the case. Regardless, I’m still tickled that David thinks it is me.
I turn and run back through the houses to my car.
“Your gun is loud,” Quinn says as she gets out of the driver’s seat and returns to the passenger side.
“That wasn’t my gun,” I say as I stash the rifle back in the trunk and tuck the Ruger under my seat.
“Who’s was it?”
“Someone else who doesn’t like your ex-boyfriend. And I have a feeling it’s a lengthy list,” I tell her as I pull away from the curb and we disappear into the night.
I’m not surprised to get a call from Mack a few hours later.
“What,” I answer, not in the mood for a lecture from Mack right now.
“Why you gotta shoot at my guy, beautiful?”
“Wasn’t me.”
“Bullshit.”
“You and I both know I don’t miss.”
He’s silent for a moment as that sinks in.
“Well, fuck me. Someone was either scaring him or trying to kill him.”
“I was there, though.”
“Daria! What in the ever-loving fuck is wrong with you? Are you trying to get caught?”
“No, I was planning to scare him a little bit, fire a warning shot. Like what the guy did tonight.”
“One of those bullets grazed me, beautiful. I think the shooter tried to hit him and just didn’t have the skills.”
“And you wonder how my family has made so much money as hired guns.”
He laughs at that, making my insides warm.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Just a little scratch. Why, you wanna come over and take care of me? Kiss my boo-boo?”
“Good night, Mack.”
“Good night, beautiful.”
I disconnect the call with a sigh. I want so badly to be with him, sometimes I just ache. Like today. Right now. When the warmth of hearing him call me beautiful is still coursing through me and I know, if I said the word, I could have that every day. We could be going over his day together, and I could kiss his boo-boo. We would make love and he would look into my eyes and tell me how much he loves me.
“Suck it the fuck up, Daria,” I say aloud. “Make love? Kiss his boo-boo? Who the fuck are you and what have you done with the badass?”
I’m right.
I have no business thinking such thoughts about Mack. Especially not when everything I stand for, everything I am, would annihilate his world if we were ever found out.