Angie snatched the bag away. She asked Dale, ‘Where is Jo? What did you do to her?’
‘She’s safe for now.’ His eyelids were heavy. Saliva pooled into the corners of his mouth. The gun in his hand was held at an angle. ‘Whether or not she stays safe depends on what you do.’
Angie repeated, ‘Where is she?’
Dale nodded toward the club. The chain on the door had been cut. The only thing that kept Angie from running was Dale’s revolver. He would use it. He wouldn’t kill her, but he would stop her.
‘Dammit!’ Delilah yelled. She was rooting around the trunk. She found the go-bag, the bottle of transmission fluid. ‘It’s not here, Daddy.’
Angie said, ‘Is that what you call your husband?’
‘Shut up, bitch.’
‘Both of you shut up.’ Dale asked Angie, ‘Where’s the iPad?’
‘Nowhere you’ll ever find it.’ Angie had used some of the cash from Dale’s trunk to bribe the motel manager again. She remembered thinking if things went sideways, she wanted to make sure Will never found the video.
Dale said, ‘You forgetting I have your daughter trussed up like a steer?’
Angie didn’t buy the bluff. ‘You won’t hurt her. She’s too valuable.’
‘Fig doesn’t want her back. Tainted goods. She made her choice.’
Angie knew this wasn’t true. Jo had said it herself. Reuben Figaroa didn’t lose.
Dale asked, ‘What’s on the video?’
‘More money than you could imagine,’ Angie answered. ‘We can figure this out together, Dale. People don’t have to get hurt.’
He smiled. ‘You want to share the cut.’
‘Fuck that,’ Delilah said. ‘Bitch ain’t gettin’ none of my money.’
‘Baby, shut your mouth.’ Dale didn’t have to raise his voice. Delilah knew there were some things she couldn’t get away with.
He told Angie, ‘Go get the iPad. Bring it back to me. Then we’ll talk.’
Angie tried to bargain with him. ‘You’re close to the end. I can see it, Dale. You’re going to need my help.’
He shrugged, but he had to know he had hours, maybe just minutes, before he was gone.
She said, ‘Delilah won’t be able to negotiate with Kip. You said it yourself. She’ll take a handful of magic beans.’
Delilah started to protest, but Dale stopped her with a look.
‘She can’t deal with Kip Kilpatrick. He’ll eat her for lunch.’
‘You think I’m going to leave it to her?’
Angie tasted bile in her mouth. ‘Who has Anthony?’
‘Your grandson?’ Delilah laughed. ‘You decrepit old bitch. Got a twelve-year-old grandbaby.’
‘He’s six, you idiot.’ Angie asked Dale. ‘Where is he?’
‘Don’t worry about the kid,’ Dale said. ‘Worry about yourself.’
‘You didn’t . . .’ Angie’s pulse drummed in her throat, pounded in her head. There was only one other person who scared her more than Dale. ‘Who did you give him to?’
‘Who do you think?’ Delilah started to laugh again. Angie kicked her in the knee. The girl screamed as she dropped to the ground.
Dale said, ‘Angela,’ but it was too late.
She didn’t care that he had a gun pointed at her head. Angie ran toward the building. She couldn’t move fast enough. Every step seemed to take her farther away. She yanked open the door. The blackness of the building engulfed her. She couldn’t get her bearings. Shadows grew out of the floor.
‘Jo?’ she yelled. ‘Jo, where are you?’
Nothing.
She looked over her shoulder. Delilah had gotten back up. She was running at an awkward gait, her injured leg slowing her down.
Angie went deeper into the building. Trash was everywhere. Shards of glass cut open her bare feet. Her purse snagged on something. The leather tore open. Her eyes started to adjust. Dance floor. Bar at the back. Balcony above. Two darkened windows filtered the moon. There were rooms upstairs.
The front door banged open. Delilah. She was an outline against the shadows. She had the switchblade in her hand.
‘Dee!’ Dale’s voice was faint behind her. ‘We need her alive.’
‘Fuck that,’ Delilah whispered, not to Dale, but to Angie.
Angie crouched down. She searched in vain for something to use against the girl. She was numb to the sensation of her hands being sliced open. Crack pipes. Pacifiers. Condoms. Useless pieces of nothing.
Delilah’s shoes crunched across the floor.
Angie looked up. The balcony. The rooms. All of them with doors. Only one of them closed.
She ran toward the stairs. She tripped. Her knee hit the concrete edge of the tread, but she kept going. She had to get to Jo. She had to save her daughter. She had to tell her that she would never threaten Anthony, that he was precious, that she would do whatever she could to protect him, that she would not abandon her grandson to the same fate that Angie had been abandoned to herself.
She was almost to the top of the stairs when her foot slipped out from under her. Angie fell hard against the concrete. Delilah’s hand was around her ankle, dragging her down. Angie rolled over, kicking, screaming, trying to shake the girl off.
‘Bitch!’ Delilah pounced on top of Angie. A sliver of moonlight caught the glint of the switchblade. Angie grabbed Delilah’s wrists. The blade was inches from her heart, long and skinny, surgically sharp. Delilah pressed her weight into the handle. Angie felt the tip of the blade touch her skin. Her arms started to shake. Sweat poured off both of them.
‘Stop it,’ Dale said, his voice still faint.
They couldn’t stop. This feud had been going on too long. One of them was going to die. Angie was going to be damned if it was her. Delilah was younger and faster, but Angie had twenty more years of rage inside of her. She pushed Delilah’s hands down, moving the blade away from her heart.
It wasn’t enough.
Delilah summoned up her last bit of strength and plunged the knife into Angie’s belly.
Angie groaned. She had managed to twist at the last minute, taking the blade into her side. She felt the cold hilt of the knife, then Delilah wrenched away the blade and held it over her head, aiming for Angie’s heart.
‘Stop!’ Dale ordered. ‘We need her alive!’
Delilah stopped, but she wasn’t finished. She slammed the back of Angie’s head into the concrete, then ran the rest of the way up the stairs.
Angie couldn’t follow her. She saw stars. Literal stars. They exploded behind her eyelids. She threw up in her mouth. She felt the vomit slide back down her throat. She was going to pass out. She couldn’t fight it. This was how her life was going to end. Delilah killing Jo. Anthony taken by a monster. Angie choking to death on her own vomit.
Will. She wanted Will to find her. The look of anguish on his face. The knowledge that she had died alone, without him.
A sudden piercing scream shook Angie out of her stupor.
‘No!’ Jo screamed. ‘Stop!’
The sound was visceral, not the way she screamed when Reuben hit her. It was the scream of someone who knew that they were dying.
Angie rolled over. She pushed herself up from the stairs. The sharp pain in her side did not stop her. Dale’s staggering footsteps on the stairs below did not stop her. She bolted up the last few steps. She ran across the balcony.