“Drop the gun,” I said, shouting so he could hear me.
He released his weapon. It clattered to the ground. I kicked it under the van and grabbed his arm, pressing my gun tighter against his head.
“Walk toward your guys.”
He cursed but I shoved him. He moved, taking small steps like he wanted to delay as long as possible. One of his men spotted us, and the look on his face was incredible—pure shock mixed with rage and disgust. He held up his hands and shouted something, and the gunfire came to an abrupt halt as Clifton’s guys stared at me with my gun pressed against their leader’s head.
“Drop them,” I said, probably yelling, but I couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears.
One by one, they put down their weapons.
Owain appeared around the van, his eyes wide with surprise and delight. He waked up to Clifton, punched him in the face, then yanked him away from me and kept his own gun trained on Clifton’s neck. He looekd back and grinned, gave me a wink, and nodded his head at the van.
I understood what he meant. I got inside and waited for Owain and crawl into the back with Clifton in tow. Once they were inside and the doors slammed shut, I drove the van up onto the sidewalk, got around the truck blocking our way, then sped off as fast as I could.
“Holy shit,” I said. “Holy shit holy shit.”
Owain laughed, loud and deep and hard. I met his eye in the rearview mirror as he continued to hold his gun pressed against Clifton. I couldn’t help but grin as I drove, my hands shaking, my gun on the passenger side seat next to me. I got as far away as I could without making the van an obvious target for cops waiting around the neighborhood. I wanted to scream or throw up or both, and Owain’s laughter only made my already frayed nerves dance around wildly.
“Plug up your ears, little diamond. I’m going to kill this mother fucker and be done with it.”
“Wait,” I said.
Owain grunted in surprise as I pulled the van over and turned to face him. Clifton cowered away and kept his arms over his head like that would stop a bullet.
“Why would I wait? I can end him here and toss his body out in the street. We’ll be home in twenty minutes.
“He’s too useful to kill.”
Owain shook his head, eyes wide and mystified. “Useful? This bastard’s been fucking with us for all this time and now you want to save him?”
“Listen to her, Owain, I can—”
Owain smashed his gun into Clifton’s face. He grunted, spit blood, and groaned as he curled up on the floor of the van.
“He has men and resources. We can use him still.” I stared at Owain and narrowed my eyes. “You know I’m right but you’re still holding some childish grudge against him.”
“I know he’s dangerous, and I don’t keep dangerous things alive for long.”
“Bring him to Hedeon. We’ll discuss it, and if Hedeon wants to kill him, then I’ll do it myself.”
Owain smirked and shook his head. “Not a chance. Clifton’s my kill, one way or another.” He turned and looked at his former friend lying on the ground, curled up in a ball, half-weeping and half groaning with pain. “But fine, you want to bring this to Hedeon, then we will. You can deal with it.”
“Good.” I put the van back into gear and drove slowly back to Owain’s. “We’ll lock him in the basement. In the morning, we’ll figure out what to do with him.”
Owain grunted and kicked at Clifton. “Hear that? You’re lucky she’s here. If it were up to me, you’d be dead right now and I’d never have to think about your pathetic little fucking face again.”
Clifton groaned but said nothing.
I smiled as I drove back to Owain’s. The plan had gone off better than I could’ve imagined. Capturing Clifton alive was a huge boon for us, and I knew we could turn it into a good deal—if only Owain could get over his stupid, petty rivalry.
I parked the van out front of Owain’s house and helped him get Clifton inside. Owain dragged him down the steps and tied him up to a chair nice and tight then leaned down and stared into Clifton’s terrified eyes.
“If you try and run, I’ll kill you. Understood?”
Clifton nodded.
Owain took my hand and lead me back upstairs. We stood in the kitchen and I pressed myself against his chest. He hugged me tight, kissed my hair, and breathed me in. I loved the way he did that, like my smell was his most favorite thing in the world, like the smell of an old book.
“You sure about this?” he asked.
“I’m sure. You trust me, right?”
“I trust you.”