get rid of the heroin. But that was much easier to admit than to actually do the deed.
Watching part of yourself fester and die—knowing it needed to be separated—was a whole lot different than pulling out the axe and chopping off an appendage. Some people had that strength, but I had shown time and time again that I was not among them.
I had, however, resisted the temptation for five days.
I laid down on the couch, holding the white power-filled vial up to the light.
One hit to get some sleep.
One hit to let go for a while.
Not to care.
I stuffed it under a cushion, out of sight but never ever out of mind. I ached for it. More than I ached for anything else in the world. More than sex. More than the adrenaline rush of boosting a car. Sometimes, even more than revenge.
Definitely more than revenge.
I rolled off the couch and headed to the kitchen. Isabella sat by her food bowl, so I filled it up and replaced her water. Lord knew how much I’d been neglecting her for the last few days. When she probably needed the most attention, I turned off. It was what I did best.
I pulled a tray out of one of the top cabinets—something else I shouldn’t keep tucked away, but there were a fuck-load of things I did that I shouldn’t do, think, or say. A smoke wouldn’t fix anything, but at least it would take the edge off long enough to get some sleep and reset my brain. Something I’d missed for the last forty-eight hours.
Even when I could sleep, it never lasted long enough and was anything but peaceful. On the other hand, I’d start seeing shit and going even crazier if I didn’t do something. I rolled the joint between my fingers, my mind lost to roll around on the endless rapids that left me confused and helpless.
What the fuck am I missing?
There had to be a way to track Devlin down. A trail somewhere.
The room blurred, and I braced my forearms against the counter. The guilt and frustration wouldn’t let up long enough to concentrate.
Guilt….
Emotions were a damn curse.
My curse. And there was only one cure.
The sound of a car engine distracted me, and I peeked through the window over the sink. A blue Audi inched up the driveway, so I shoved the pot in a drawer. Not only were they interrupting the long and marvelous affair I was about to have with a joint—and then my pillow, by keeping me awake they reminded me that I should be out and looking for Aubrey.
But then, maybe I would find some answers after all. I grabbed the gun I kept under the side table, not bothering to keep it hidden this time as I barged outside. “What do you want?”
Blondie stepped out of the car, showing his hands. “Have you thought about what we said? Devlin has something big in the works.”
“Doesn’t he always? If you think that’s news, it shows exactly how little you know. Women, drugs, you name it, he has something in the pipeline.” I needed to push them into telling me something.
“This is different,” he shifted his weight.
“Look, I have a lot of my own shit to deal with. I’d like to avoid adding the trouble of taking care of you two.” People should know better than to mess with a cranky man jonesing for a hit. “From what I hear, Wilson has enough on his plate. And he still hasn’t mentioned either of you.”
I knew Blondie was at a disadvantage in a gunfight, but I didn’t like not being able to see the driver. I lifted my gun and twitched it toward the car. “Have your friend step out and join us.”
The dark-haired man slowly climbed out, keeping his hands in clear sight like a man who’d been arrested too many times.
Or…. No.
“Here’s what I know,” I said. “You don’t work for Wilson—” that was merely a good guess really “—but you’re not stupid or without resources. The forged tags on your car aren’t hard to get in this town, but you have connections. And I think you know more than you’re letting on. All I want to know is where you’re getting your information.”
“We need your help,” Blondie said. “If we work together—”
“I’m the one with a raised gun.” But I had to will my hand not to shake, and I wasn’t sure I could hit either of them in my current condition if I tried. “Who are you working for?”
“Colt—”
“Wrong answer,” I growled moving closer to have a better chance at making my shot if necessary. “Are you trying to get everyone out of the way to have The Retreat to yourselves?”
The dark-haired man finally spoke. “We want to stop it from happening again.”
“Why? That certainly wasn’t on Wilson’s agenda.”
Dark-hair crossed his arms revealing a snake tattoo wrapped around his right forearm. “He doesn’t know that part.”
“And what don’t I know?”
“We know about Katrin. About the rivalry between you and your brother. That you have more power than your family cares to admit. And a lot of good reasons to use it.”
Fucking hell. Why did everyone have to bring her up? As if I hadn’t heard enough about all that shit. “And? Who the fuck are you?”
“I used to work at the retreat,” the dark-haired man said.
“Fuckin’ hell,” I said under my breath, squinting at them both. This had to be some sick, twisted kind of trick. “Have a fit of conscience then, did you?”
“You could say that.”
Groaning, I stretched my arm out, aiming as close as I could toward Blondie. “I could say a lot of things. Get the hell off my property comes to mind—unless you want to actually give me something valuable to work with. I don’t give a damn about the retreat or Devlin’s plans.”
Blondie put up his hands and inched back toward the passenger door, but he still refused to keep his damn mouth shut. “You’d stand by and watch him grow even more powerful? Powerful enough that no one, not even Merc, would be able to stop him?”
I couldn’t answer that. I dragged my tongue over my teeth. I didn’t have time for this shit. Part of me wanted to just shoot them both and get it over with, but I still had a sneaking suspicion that they weren’t who they claimed and knew more than they were telling me. “Convince me.”
“What do you want?” Blondie asked.
“Stop beating around the bush and giving me bullshit stock answers to tide me over. That shit doesn’t work on me. Prove you’re serious about taking Devlin down and tell me where he is.”
As soon as they glanced at each other, I lowered my gun. They knew. “How is it that no one in this fucking town has a clue, and you two know something?”
Blondie resumed his cocky stance and tilted his head. “Told you we could help.”
“Fuck that. Just tell me where he is.” I raised the gun again. If I had any chance at finding Aubrey alive, it was now or never.
“So you are interested?” Blondie asked.
“No. I’m not fucking interested.” I charged toward them, considering shooting at least one in the head and hoping the other would give me some answers. “I don’t give a shit what he’s planning or what he’s doing, but he has something of mine, and I wouldn’t hesitate to pull this trigger to get her back.”
“Her?” dark-hair asked.
“Her,” I confirmed. “You haven’t happened to notice him hauling around a blonde?”
“He usually has plenty of girls around.” The dark-haired man said. “Isn’t that part of the problem?”
“This one would have been obviously forced. He took her the night before you two loons showed up the first time.”
Blondie frowned. “We lost track of him that night. Came here looking for a clue, but you didn’t want to chat.”
“Of course, I didn’t want to chat.” I waved the gun as I shouted across the lawn. “I’d been out all night looking for my—” My what? My sanity for one.
“Your?”
Didn’t they care that I was pointing a gun to their heads? How the hell did I lose control of every situation so easily? Fucking exhaustion. Fucking distractions. My… girl? That sounded too prissy. Fuck buddy? That sounded too friendly. Live blow-up doll? That just about covered it really. Sex slave? My outlet… that’s exactly what she was. But I couldn’t say that. “She worked for Devlin. I got her away. She was staying with me until…. Until we figured out a different plan.”
Close enough.
“So you do object to how he treats women?”
“Object?” I shook my head. “I just wanted to fuck with him. What are you two anyway? The moral police... Fuck. No.” I lowered my gun and took a step back. Police….
My second worst nightmare.