“What about this guy?” Prescott nods her chin to Tony. “Who has he got to lose?”
“Please,” Tony gulps. “No.”
“Yeah,” I reply, throwing Caleb’s wallet into Pea’s hands and flipping through Tony’s paperwork. “We know everything about you. But you only need to know one thing about us—to Godfrey and Seb, we’re dead. Go there. Tell them you killed us. Take our clothes with you. Take some of Prescott’s hair. Tell them you dragged our bodies out at night, to avoid drawing attention. Make them think they’re not in danger. Disobey, and I will slay each and every one of your relatives.”
Tony lives in Stockton, and judging from the screensaver on his phone, he’s got a girlfriend. One he wouldn’t like to see in a coffin.
“How can we be sure they won’t rat us out, anyway?” I hear Pea enquire from behind me. That’s a fine question, with a very fine answer.
“They’ll have us on speaker phone the whole time. From the moment their asses hit the seats in their car, to their point of destination in Godfrey’s office. Try and signal to him, scribble something down or warn the old man—and I’ll know. I’ll go straight to your families. I’ve got the addresses.”
“Godfrey’s order was to bring you in alive,” Caleb jeers, rubbing his swollen cheek.
“We put up a good fight. It was a life or death situation. He’d rather us be dead than still on the run.” Bullshit. Godfrey will kill them, they’re deadweight, collateral damage, the minute they come back empty-handed.
But they don’t need to know that.
“You sure?” Tony’s shiny, crooked eyes glance over to Prescott, who stands behind me. She nods.
“Positive.”
We escort Tony and Caleb back to the RAM and press the call button. We hear everything, sitting on the bed and listening to their every move. They drive silently, grunting and whimpering the whole journey. We hear the noisy road and the bell of the elevator to Godfrey’s office building, which I recognize, and we hear them delivering the news we put in their mouths.
Nothing to worry about.
Nate and Prescott are dead.
The bodies will be retrieved soon after dark falls.
“Why should I believe you?” Godfrey’s voice is dripping doubt. There’s shuffling over the line, presumably the sound of the men producing the chunk of Prescott’s hair which we plucked out of her skull—from the root, we simply had to—smeared in their own blood. And I know they must be showing him one of her stress balls and a slice of my black jeans. “We’ll go back up to Martinez and get the rest at night. We couldn’t do it in broad daylight.”
“My people will handle it,” God growls. “You better not be lying.”
More whimpers. “Godfrey, we’d never.”
“I know, because then you’d be dead.”
No, motherfucker. By the time you figure out we’re alive, they’ll have already packed up their shit and their loved ones and have run away from your claws, I think to myself.
The phone conversation doesn’t end until they crawl back to the hole where they came from, but I’m not worried about them coming back to warn Godfrey. He may be powerful, but not as powerful as their love for their families. We disconnect the phone call that had us sitting in thick silence for hours, our only form of communication was our eyes. The minute I click the line dead, Prescott turns to me, pink on her cheeks.
“I was going to tell you sooner,” she mumbles, staring at her hands resting on her thighs. “About being broke. What was I supposed to do? Let you hand me over to Godfrey?”
I shake my head. It’s not an answer, but it’s the only thing she’ll get right now.
I’m about to head into the bathroom to try and finish that shower I started a few hours ago. Prescott flings up to her feet, standing in front of me. I scan her, my lower lip pulling my upper one in frustration.
“You’re in my way.” I warn.
“Baby. . .” It’s the first time she’s called me that, and her hazels are two pools of misery. They beg me for something. I’m not sure what, but know that it’s already hers. “When this is all over, I’ll give you everything I’ve got left. I’ll walk out of this with nothing but my bag. I promise you, Nate. Just please forgive me. I can’t bear the thought of you hating me.”
That’s another problem I’ll have to deal with. I can’t let her walk away penniless. She’s a lone, beautiful girl in this dark world, and she’s as poor as my fucking social skills. She’ll have to pay her way through her next meal somehow.
I know exactly how.
And I’d never let it happen.
“Where the fuck did all your money go, huh?” I push her away, angry heat rolling from my body. “You sure as hell were able to afford a glitzy-ass apartment in Danville, and last time I checked, the crack business ain’t exactly in recession.” She looks away, embarrassed. Her eyes catch a glimpse of the outside through the filthy window, following the graceful movements of a tiny bird.