Still seething, Dickers’s chest heaves up and down as he says, “We do. We have no other choice. We have to kill her and call it in. We’ll blame the fuckers out there for it. It’s the only way to get us some backup.”
“No,” Trent says again, like a broken record. Shaking his head some more as all the color drains from his face. “It won’t work.”
“If you have a better fucking idea, then please share,” Dickers grits out between his clenched teeth. “Because it’s the only one I’ve got, and I don’t want to fucking die here!”
Silence falls again.
None of the other men able to come up with a plan that would save my life.
I know I shouldn’t be upset or the least bit surprised after all the shit they’ve already done to me, but it still hurts for some reason that both Trent and Jacob are willing to kill me to protect themselves.
Hurt so much, I finally speak up.
“Here’s a plan,” I say, grabbing their attention.
I try to sit up again, fail, and grit my teeth as a million needles stab into my arms. “Why don’t you all turn yourselves in and accept your fate? You know… uphold that oath you took to protect and serve. Instead of killing me when I haven’t done anything to you!”
Dickers glares at me angrily.
Jacob at least has the dignity to look ashamed.
Trent’s face falls and he turns away from me.
Calvet, the asshole, looks from me to Dickers and asks, “How are we going to do this? If one of us shoots her, ballistics will trace it back to us.”
Dickers nods. “We can’t shoot her. Trying to cover that up would be too messy.”
Calvet shifts impatiently on his feet. “Then how?”
“Either we strangle her,” Dickers says, looking back to me, his eyes gleaming. “Or we slit her throat. Whichever everyone is the most comfortable with.”
“Jesus Christ,” Trent gasps and swallows loudly, like he wants to gag.
“There has to be another way…” Jacob says quietly, his face now as white as a sheet.
“There is no other way,” Dickers snaps back immediately, “and we’re running out of time. Those fuckers can come bursting in here at any second.”
“You’re all sick! Fucking sick!” I declare and wince at my own voice.
Dickers’s is right, the guys outside could bust in here at any second, and if I want to get out of this, I need to delay these jerks for as long as I can.
“I haven’t done anything to you and you’re going to kill me,” I say more softly, trying to create more guilt and doubt in their heads.
“I vote we slit her throat,” Dickers’s grins.
Calvet makes a face, as if he finds it distasteful. “That would be even messier than a bullet. We’d have blood all over us.”
“Oh my god!” I shriek.
The pain in my head nothing now that they’re discussing how to murder me like they’re trying to figure out where to go out to eat.
Focusing my attention solely on Trent and Jacob, I try to get through to them. “Killing me won’t save you guys. You said it yourself, Trent, Dickers just wants me dead because he’s sick. Please don’t do this!”
“Strangulation it is,” Dickers nods in agreement.
“Who’s going to do it?” Calvet asks, looking at the other three. “I vote not me. This isn’t my fucking mess.”
Trent shakes his head and backs away from Dickers. “I… can’t…” Then he suddenly turns green and bolts to the back of room, heading for the bathroom.
I almost vomit myself when I hear his puke splashing into a toilet.
But that’s one down that can’t hurt me…
Rolling his eyes, Dickers turns toward Jacob. “I think you should do it.”
“What?!” Jacob nearly shouts in surprise and takes a step back. “Why me?”
Expression hardening, Dickers explains, “Because you’re the only one in this room who could blame this on us later.”
“I wouldn’t...” Jacob tries to argue.
“You say that now, but what about six months from now? When the guilt starts to eat at you?” Dickers presses and takes a step toward him. “The guilt over Cronin is already eating you up.”
“I was trying to save Cronin,” Jacob says in his own defense.
My blood can’t decide if it wants to turn hot or cold hearing him say that.
“Save him?!” I scoff in disbelief. “You got him killed!”
“Exactly,” Dickers nods, ignoring me. All his attention riveted on Jacob as he continues to drill into him. “You weren’t in with the Russians like us. You were just trying to cover for your son and save your friend. When this is all over, what’s to keep you from turning us in for a slap on the wrist?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Jacob insists and tries to square his shoulders.
Dickers grins and spreads his hands. “Then prove it. Kill her.”
Jacob starts to shake his head, looking like an older imitation of Trent.