A block of ice is in my stomach. It’s the same setup as in New Orleans, the underground club where men paid to have sex with strippers or to have a ménage or to have sex with a teenage girl…
I know what Molly wants to do. She wants to kill them all, and I’m terrified she’ll fail horribly.
“Do you know when they meet?”
He shakes his head. “All I know is last week, she bought a gun.”
Reaching out, I take his arm. “Mark’s here. He’s a cop, a detective. He can help us. Please call me the next time you hear anything, even if it’s just a hunch. If you think she’s going with them, let me know. Please, Josh.”
He pokes out his lips. “Okay. I gotta get back, but maybe we can all go out when I get home.”
“I’d like that.”
I wait a moment as he heads up the block toward the store. My stomach is once again twisted with fear. I knew she was mixed up in something, but I didn’t know it had gotten so critical.
A gun, Candi, a teenage girl…
I need to get back to the apartment.
* * *
Mark
“Fuck!” I push the wireless keyboard forward on the desk. “Where the fuck is Molly?”
Nobody’s in the apartment, and I push the chair back, shoving my hands in my hair. I hit the cut on my head and swear again at the pain.
We came all this way, we don’t have fucking time, and Molly just takes off. What the hell is she doing? I grab my phone and text her again, but there’s no response. Behind me, the deadbolt turns, and for a split second, I think it might be her.
Lara pushes through the door, a brown bag in one hand and a go-cup of coffee in the other.
Her eyebrows go up. “Did you find anything?”
The hope in her eyes pisses me off even more. “Where’s Molly?” I growl.
Her expression falls. “I don’t know, but I talked to Joshua.”
“Yeah? What did he say?”
“Come to the table.” She holds out her hand, and I follow her into the small kitchen area.
She takes two large paper-wrapped bundles from the bag. I can only assume they’re sandwiches.
“What’d you get?” My stomach pinches, and I realize it’s been a while since I’ve eaten… hours. Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s way past dinner time for us.
“Reubens.” She places one in front of me, and I tear into it, lifting the marble rye out of the wax paper.
White juice drips from the side as I take a large bite, and the tang of sauerkraut mixed with corned beef and Thousand Island dressing fills my mouth.
“This might be the best thing I’ve eaten all year.”
She grins and kisses my head. “Not true. You had a Three-fer last week.”
Nodding, I take another large bite. “
I wasn’t starving then.”
She sits across from me at the small table and opens her sandwich. It’s the same size, but she takes a less ravenous wild-animal-sized bite. She even touches away the juice with a napkin.