Chapter 22
SUTTON
I picked up my purse with my trembling hands and I felt guns pointed at me. My father scolded me, holding out his hands and wiggling his fingers. I looked at him with tears running down my face, quaking in my seat.
“Whatever it is, give it to me, princess,” he said.
So, I pulled out the small bottle of Tylenol and slapped it in his hand.
“Happy?” I asked.
He furrowed his brow before he popped open the top.
He sniffed it before handing it back to me.
I shook two out into my hand and pressed the top back on, tossing the pills to the back of my throat.
I picked up my coffee and swallowed them down.
I needed to get the throbbing in my breasts to stop.
Then, I slid the pills back into my purse.
And as I slid my hand back out of my purse, I brought the gun along with me. Settling it into my lap in the hopes no one had seen what I’d done.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” my father said.
“Yes, you did,” I said plainly.
“I’d never hurt you intentionally, princess.”
“Ah, there it is. Intentionally. Excusing you from every other hurt you induce. Supposedly.”
“You’ve put me in a precarious position, princess. You’re supposed to be sitting on this side of the booth. Not that one. Cage needs to be on that side. You know this,” he said.
“I suppose I really don’t,” I said.
I was furious. Upset. Hurt. The only family I’d ever known never loved me to begin with.
I was nothing but a chess piece. Something he could wager, if things didn’t swing in his favor.
It made me sick. It made me want to shoot him straight in the groin.
I wondered so many things. I wondered about my mother.
About whether or not her death really was an accident.
He made mention of her having a role to play in all this. Having a foothold in his empire.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked.
“Of course, you can,” my father said.
“Mom. You said she died in a car accident.”
“Yes. She did. I’ll never forgive myself for it, either. We were fighting that night and she’d been drinking—”
“Yeah, yeah. Wine. Drove drunk. Wrapped herself around a pole. I know the story.”
“Is there a question in there?” he asked.
His voice was ice cold. Curt. And I knew the answer even before I asked the fucking question.
“Is that what really killed her that night?” I asked.
He paused. “What are you insinuating?”
“I’m not insinuating anything. But you took my Tylenol bottle and sniffed the pills. You said she had a role to play in your business. Which means she was probably held to the same standards as everyone else is that works for you.”
He didn’t say anything, and I shifted in my seat. I folded my hands and put them into my lap, giving me quick access to the gun practically sinking into my flesh.
“Did you slip something into her drink that killed her that night?” I asked.
“What?” my father asked.
“Was it the car accident that killed her? Or something else?” I asked.
“This conversation is over. It’s time to go.”
“Really, father? A question you won’t answer? You know as well as I do that it makes you look as guilty of something as if you’d just answered with honesty.”
“Get up. Now. We’re leaving.”
“I’m staying right here,” I said coolly.
My father hardened his gaze onto me. “I’ll deal with you later. The men will take you back to where I’m staying. But right now? I have to take care of the Dead Souls. And whoever else is associated with those pathetic little twats.”
“You won’t do anything of the sort,” I said.
Before I could think, I picked up the gun. I cocked it and pulled the trigger, aiming for where I thought his groin was. The gunshot rang out like thunder, buzzing in my ears as the world fell silent. My father’s eyes bulged with pain, and I made my deal with the Devil.
My father’s death for a swift one of my own.
I moved the gun and pulled the trigger again, not knowing where I shot my father.
But, the look on his face told me the bullets were landing.
The world was silent. I didn’t hear the guns.
I didn’t hear the bullets. I felt the whizzing around me as I crashed down into the booth, watching my father slide underneath the table.
I saw him collapse onto the floor. He was bleeding from both of his thighs.
Not exactly where I wanted to hit him, but he was hit, nonetheless.
I leveled my eyes with him underneath the table, and I saw him scrambling for his gun.
“Oh, no you don’t,” I murmured.
With the third shot, the world snapped back into focus.
And the sounds around me blurred into a symphony of catastrophe.
All Hell broke loose. Fitting, for the deal I’d just made with my soul.
Bullets whizzed about in the air as my father groaned out in pain.
I shot at his arm, causing him to drop the gun before I moved away from the booth.
He was on the floor. Bleeding. And I hope he stayed there while he fucking bled out.
Men around me shouted before they cried out in pain, and that was when I heard it.
The sound of doors crashing in.
“Sutton!” Cage roared.
More gunshots rang out as I slipped away from the booth.
“Cage!?” I exclaimed.
“Sutton!” he roared.
“Cage! Where are you!?”
I ducked and winced with every gun that went off.
It was a firefight that flooded the diner in the blink of an eye.
I looked over at my father and saw him bear-crawling out from underneath the table.
He had his gun in the arm I hadn’t hit, so I jammed my foot out to kick it away.
He cried out in pain as his fingers crunched underneath the force of my foot.
But his gun slid away, and he was rendered helpless.
“Sutton! Stay where you are and keep down!” Cage yelled.
So, I sprinted for the bar and ducked behind it.
I didn’t have the extra magazine, nor did I know how many bullets were in the magazine I had left.
My guess was three, conservatively. Which wouldn’t be enough for me to fight my way to Cage.
All I could do was tuck myself behind that bar underneath the cash register and wait it out.
All I could do was listen to the sounds of bullets embedding themselves into the walls as men gurgled on their own blood.
“I’m coming for you, princess!” my father said, groaning.
All I could do was listen to my father literally pull himself toward me as his shadow crept closer. I saw it from around the corner. I saw him pulling himself through his pain as his bloodied hands slowly came into view.
So, I took aim at the corner and braced myself. Because if a bullet to my father’s face is what stopped him, I wouldn’t fucking hesitate.
Come get me, you bastard.