31
Boo
Sometimes, enough is enough.
If they want to fuck with my sister, I’ll show them what malice really looks like.
“Give me the fucking side cutters,” I growl, holding out my hand to the only person other than Hayes I’ve trusted with this mess. I’ve known Reeve Malace since we were kids, but always peripherally. We played on the same Little League team back when Cape Frost actually had one, dated best friends a few years back, and attended the Police Academy together for a bit until he decided he was too much of a pyro to do anything but fight fire.
We didn’t really get close until he showed up to my house the night it burned.
But tonight, his face shield and turnout coat are back at the station where they need to be. I should’ve done the fucking same. Doing this shit in full uniform is risky as hell, I just wasn’t given any notice — Hayes told me twenty minutes ago that Carter Jennings left Samara a voicemail. Unlike Ricky’s call the other day, it wasn’t a barely concealed threat. It was an outright promise that he’s going to hurt her if I don’t stop.
“Give me the fucking side cutters,” I repeat, huffing when Reeve holds them just out of my reach. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet all of a sudden.”
“I’m too hot to have cold anything. I never thought this was a good idea. Can’t I just light it on fire?”
He twirls what I need around in his hands as he stares down at me, mocking me like the pretty little shit he is.
“You could, but then we’d basically be copying the fucking Sons. Do you want to be known as the guy who had the same idea as those assholes?”
“First of all, I’m a ghost in this story so you’ll be the one that looks like you copied them — not me. And second, fire is my thing, not theirs. I’m offended.” He’s talking way too fucking loud for someone who’s gotten away with burning hundreds of acres before, but one day being first on the scene is going to bite him in the ass. No one gets lucky that many times without someone out there getting suspicious. Especially if he’s always this loud. “Bitch ass Sons. You know damn well Ricky always wanted to be like me. What if we just gangbang his mom and blackmail them with a video? You can even invite your ugly friend.”
Squinting at him, I finally get to my feet. “Hayes will cry if he hears you say that. Give me the goddamn side cutters so I can cut her brakes and we can get out of here before someone sees us.”
Shaking his head, Reeve frowns. “Hear me out, alright? I brought some shit we can do that won’t kill someone innocent. I’m an asshole, but not a kill some girl that hasn’t done shit level asshole, and neither are you.” He pulls out a huge dagger and hands it over, then reveals a gallon of what looks like blood he had hidden in a bush. “We can scare her, trigger them, then maybe kill the ones that actually deserve to die. Deal?”
He just had to remind me she isn’t exactly one of them. “No one’s innocent, Reeve. No one. I’ve learned that the hard way recently.”
Yet Amaya aside, he’s right. I’m not a killer. I’m prepared to kill if I need to, but if it’s not necessary? I do have a badge on my chest .
“Whose blood is that?”
“Some pig.” He shrugs. “Actual pig, that’s not a cop dig. Carve something fucked up in the dash and I’ll start on the backseat.”
If cops would quit killing innocent people, maybe he wouldn’t have had to clarify that.
Yeah, I can’t cut her brakes. I’d become just as bad as the rest of them.
“Fine. You win. You got your kit with you?”
He eyes me like I’m stupid, then hands me the little inflatable airbag I’ll need to jam inside the door once he gets the wedge in. I’m no stranger to breaking into cars, but usually we did it with rocks and zero regard for the owner.
Here, though... I want her to think everything is normal and happy in her glittery fucking rainbow world right up until she opens the door.
Once he jimmies the metal rod in to pop the lock, we’re in business. We’ve wasted too much time already, so I don’t mess around trying to think of some clever, menacing threat to scratch into the dash. Instead, I stab the fuck out of it. All that expensive textured plastic, torn up and completely useless now. I hear Reeve shredding the perforated black leather on the backseat and can’t resist doing a little damage up front, too. When we’re done, they’re gonna have to set fire to this thing.
Adrenaline surges through me as I wiggle out of the car and grab the gallon of blood. It fucking stinks as I spin the lid off and dump it everywhere — the inside of the dark tinted windows, the doors, the seats, the floor, the center console. I pass it back to Reeve just as I see headlights off in the distance. “We gotta fucking go, hurry up.”
I see the lighter in his hand and the longing all over his face, but ultimately he shoves it back in his pocket and kicks the car like he blames it. “Fuck it. Go!”
I’m starting to think he has a serious problem.
Waving him on, I shut the door as quietly as I can, grab my shit, and hunch down as I hurry back over to the next street where I left my cruiser. I lose sight of Reeve in his search for his Cherokee, but find him again when we both turn onto his street.
As Cape Frost goes, he doesn’t live in a bad neighborhood. The houses are all small but functional with two car garages and ample backyards, and while some of them are rotting from the inside out, Reeve found himself a good one.
Parking my cruiser in the drive, I follow him in through the garage into the kitchen. The bloodwood cabinets and butcher’s block countertops are a stark contrast from the greys and marble I’m used to at Hayes’, but it comes together better than I thought it would.
“I’ve got blood all over my hands,” I mutter. “Can you turn the sink on for me? Shit’s probably all over my car now, too.”
“Yeah, you look like shit.” He isn’t any better off, but manages to get the sink going for us after tripping over his ridiculously furry black cat. “Damnit, Void,” he growls. “She’s like a shark, I swear. She can smell the blood and wants the kill.”
Her vibrant green eyes narrow at us as she jumps up on the counter, swinging her tail so hard, the paper towel roll falls off and unwinds on the floor.
“Yeah, she hates you,” I laugh. “Shame it’s too cold to make her sleep outside.”
“That’s not something you should say when she’s in earshot, but speak at your own risk. Have I told you why I named her Void? ”
He squirts some dish soap up both of our arms and starts scrubbing, leaving me to side-eye the jungle cat staring at me. “No, you haven’t.”
“She’s a soulless void inside,” he whispers. “Don’t stare into her eyes too long.”
“Whatever.” Chuckling, I dry myself off and start opening his cabinets looking for liquor. “I need a drink. And shut up, I know I’m still on shift.”
“I don’t care. Today I learned my line is cutting brakes on a glitter wrapped 4Runner, anything else is fair game. I got some Jack in that one right there, but there’s also Absinthe if you’re trying to get fired.”
Everything I’ve done so far has been in hopes to save my job — and my sister. Getting fired now would be stupid. “Jack it is. Want one?”
“Yeah, pour me a double. I’m off the next two days.” His cat meows at him until he gives her a treat to shut her up, then leans against the countertop to watch me. “Do you have spare clothes in the car?”
“Yeah, I’ve been thrown up on enough times that I always keep a spare uniform in the trunk. I’ll change before I head back out. ”
“I can burn them along with mine out back.” His backyard reminds me of simpler times. Even though we didn’t hang out all that much, I know he has a fire pit back there and a great view of the stars. “Just tell them it got destroyed helping some old lady put oil in her car.”
That’s not a bad idea, so I start stripping right there in his kitchen. We don’t have nearly as much gear as we should, but my gun, radio, and nightstick all end up on his counter before I reach for my badge.
Glancing down, I panic just a little when I see a different kind of void where my badge should be. The frayed holes in my chest pocket are there, but my badge... is not. “Fuck me, I know I had it earlier. Did it fall off in the garage? Damn thing’s been busted for months.”
“The garage would be the best case scenario.” Like I need him to say it. “You can look on the way to your car, but I think you need to prepare for the worst.”
This is way too serious of a conversation to be having in our boxers, especially considering the potential consequences.
I wanted them to think it was me, or at least be pretty sure — but if my badge fell off when I was inside Carly’s car, they’ll have all the proof they need. I could be fired, arrested... or worse.
God, sometimes I make seriously fucking stupid decisions. I let Carter’s voicemail send me straight into revenge mode and I didn’t stop to think what their response would be. What they could do to me or Sam or Hayes. What they will do.
“Fuck, come help me look for it. If it’s not here, we have to go.”
And since they were seconds from finding the 4Runner when we left... I just have to hope we’re not too late.