Chapter Ten
Doughnuts and Anarchy
Dusty took a long drag from her blunt. Several bodies had been loaded up and carted off, but not enough to account for the number of people outside of the bar. She made a mental note to keep an eye out for stragglers over the next few days, though she planned on leaving town expeditiously. With both the police and another street gang on their asses, staying in Briarcliff for another day or two was out of the question. Already, she had Otter out digging up information about their guests, though she wasn’t sure he’d be able to find much. Dressed in all black, they sported neither insignia nor name.
The fire trucks had been at it for hours now and showed no signs of slowing. Leaning against the pole of a long dead streetlight, she turned her attention to Edward. He’d collapsed on a bus bench a few feet away, and she could tell from the little furrow between his brows that he was having a bad dream. A kinder part of her wanted to wake him from it, offer comfort. But that part of her was small and rusty from disuse. So, instead, she studied the strong lines of his jaw and the thickness of his eyelashes fanning out across his tanned skin.
In her mind’s eye, she could still picture him as he’d been just a few hours ago, coming out of the bathroom, head down as he hurried back outside to her with his large hands full of sopping wet paper towels. It was the way he’d paused just before stepping off the curb, looking both ways as if his momma was at his shoulder, scolding him about safety, that did her in. Even now, something in her softened against her will, and she scowled. She wasn’t a fan of unfamiliar emotions, but ever since she’d met Edward, she’d been bombarded by them.
Poor guy must have been exhausted to sleep through all the noise. She drank in the sight of him with unabashed appreciation, secure in the knowledge he wouldn’t wake and catch her creeping on him like a horn dog. Dusty didn’t go for White boys for various reasons—so many of them had a habit of fetishizing her, assuming they found her attractive at all. But Edward wasn’t like so many others, and besides, she liked the look of him. Liked his hands, liked the shape of his collarbones and the column of his throat. He swallowed so hard when he was anxious, and, boy, was he anxious a lot. Though, in his defense, it had been shitty day. She enjoyed the play of tendon beneath his skin whenever his throat worked or his jaw tightened.
It made her think about things. Things that would make him nervous. Things that would make him gasp and those amber eyes grow wide. Or make him glare at her with that odd mixture of disapproval and awe he seemed to reserve only for her. The look that said he wasn’t quite sure if she was a menace or a gift. She wondered what she would have to do to tease that pacing tiger out of him again, and the train of thought tightened things between her thighs and left her squirming.
Dusty forced herself to look away, annoyed with her train of thought. She needed to get it together. Firming her resolve, she strode over to the bench and sat next to him, scooting close and laying her head on his shoulder. Even so gentle a touch was enough to jerk him violently awake. Head still on his shoulder, she looked up, studying the way his gaze darted about, almost as if he were searching for an enemy.
When he locked eyes with her, he crumbled in relief.
A former member of the Legion used to beat his wife and kids. When Dusty found out about it, she’d put a bullet through both of his kneecaps and drove his ex to one of those shelters that helped battered women and their little ones. She couldn’t remember the woman’s name now, but she and the kid both had the same look about them. Like a kicked dog eager to avoid another blow and hungry for every scrap of affection it could find.
It made her blood boil. If I ever get my hands on the piece of shit who did this to him, I swear to God …
“Dusty?”
Her fingers uncurled by slow degrees and her palms burned from the deep crescents left by her nails. “What?” She asked, voice too harsh. Harsher than she’d meant.
Edward flinched, his shoulders going high before he responded. “I just…you looked…” He stumbled over the words like a drunk with uneven footing, his face flushing red. “Never mind. Sorry.”
Rage swamped her and left her shaking. The muscles in her back convulsed with the need to lash out, but she fought the urge down until it was a feral, snarling thing in the darkness of her mind. She took a deep breath and let it out. It wasn’t her business. She would remind herself of it over and over again until the words tasted like truth instead of a cop-out. Edward and whatever he was going through was none of her business and never would be. She couldn’t save him.
She didn’t want to save him. Or rather…she had no right to.
As if I could. She’d never saved anyone her entire life. Look at how well things were going for Rat. Hero was not a moniker she could ever lay claim to. Not since Desi, anyway. And she was alright with that. Honest. She’d had to learn how to be.
“Come on,” her voice was huskier than usual but kind in a way she was growing to hate. “Let’s go see a man about a car.”
The dark bags under his eyes were a stark contrast against his otherwise flawless face. “Okay,” Edward said, heavy with exhaustion. Getting to his feet, he ambled along behind her as they left the flames behind.
***
They cut across a mall parking lot to reach the adjacent street. Businesses and streetlamps grew farther and farther apart and were soon replaced by sparse foliage and cracked concrete. They’d been walking for a mile or two, and it was getting harder to put one foot in front of the other. Edward grimaced as the ground swayed beneath his feet. The anti-anxiety meds he’d taken in the bathroom at Dunkin Doughnuts had kicked in a few hours ago, and his brain was sluggish, his body heavy and aching as if he’d been hit by a bus. He wanted to go back to sleep but knew he and Dusty needed to stay on the move.
Stumbling along behind her, he gripped his injured arm with his free hand and tried not to fall on his face. The hurt throbbed in time with his pulse; a deep, blazing pain he hadn’t been the victim of in decades. It brought back memories of his father’s hands, of his voice roaring and hateful. To love him was to love razor blades and cigarettes. All aching lungs and cuts too deep to ever heal right.
“There’s still time.”
Startled, Edward glanced up to find Dusty studying him. Forcing his shoulders back, he dropped his hand. “What do you mean?” his voice cracked on the question, and he winced.
Why the hell was he still trying to impress her? None of his efforts had worked thus far. In fact, he was sure Dusty was one of the only people in his life who saw him for who he was. Which was a terrifying thought, considering they’d known one another for less than a day.
She scoffed and turned away, focusing instead on avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk. The sun was low on the horizon, and in the early morning glow, the dilapidated buildings they passed were almost regal. Ruins of a time long past rather than the rotting boards and crumbling foundation of yet another street the city couldn’t be bothered with.
“For you to change your mind,” she clarified. “You’ve got enough money to run away to anywhere in the world. You definitely have enough to hire better protection than me. So why don’t you?”
Dusty had a habit of refusing to let him shy away from uncomfortable topics, and he knew she’d just keep picking at the thread until it unraveled.
“Because being here, with you, is better than being there with them, ” he admitted.
Dusty paused long enough for his footsteps to bring him even with her. “Them?” she queried.
“The doctors.” Edward swallowed hard, trying not to shudder with the memory. “I had a little…incident several years ago, in front of some investors. Our stocks plummeted, and the company took a hit. To save the deals we had on the table, we had to prove to the powers that be that I was on the path to mental stability.” He tried not to let the old bitterness rear its head. “Which meant doctors, twenty-four/seven. All handpicked by my board of directors, of course, and eager to report my every move. Not only are there eyes everywhere, but I’ve also taken every anti-psychotic known to man.” His stomach knotted. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk about the next part, but in for a penny in for a pound. “If that weren’t enough, I spend every waking second I’m not working undergoing some form of exposure therapy.”
“What the hell for?”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. His heart was racing despite the meds. “They say I have PTSD,” he cleared his throat, uncomfortable. But she hadn’t shunned him yet, and it made him brave. “Sometimes I’m able to manage, but other times I get…lost.” He nodded to himself. Yeah. That was the right word. Lost . He cleared his throat. “The doctors think the fastest way to cure me is through exposing me to my triggers over and over again until they’re no longer triggers.” He imagined the VR headset that had been his reality for the last several months and fought back bile.
Andrew thought integrating MARCO into the system would make the sessions more effective. And they had. The problem was, being dropped unceremoniously into hyper-realistic depictions of the worst times of his life—complete with interactive characters!—was much more traumatizing than anyone had expected it to be. Though, now that he knew what Andrew was capable of and how far he would go, Edward wondered if that hadn’t been the point all along.
Dusty’s silence was chilling, and Edward refused to look at her for fear of what he would see on her face.
“So, this is the safest you’ve felt in years?” she asked gruffly.
Edward flushed. “Yes,” he admitted.
She took a deep breath, held it, and when next she spoke her tone was as neutral as it had ever been. “What about your money,” she asked. “What’s the point of being rich if you can’t hop on a jet and fuck off to some uncharted island somewhere?”
Edward rubbed his jaw. He was feeling antsy, as if there were eyes on him. Glancing over his shoulder, he was met with nothing but shadows, and shivered despite the warmth in the air.
“Edward?”
“Huh?” He whipped back around. “Oh, right. The money. I can’t touch any of it.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“My partner, Andrew, is threatening me with a conservatorship.” He wished he could sink into the ground and disappear. “Thanks to my ‘violent tendencies,’ there’s some doubt about my judgment.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Most of my assets are frozen until the judge decides whether or not I’m of sound enough mind to continue running my own estate. In the meantime, the only money I have access to is whatever is left in my savings. I have a bit of cash stashed away in a safe deposit box, but it’s not enough to hire protection. Or book a jet to an uncharted island.” Or pay off a hitman, he thought. But she could probably guess as much, considering.
Dusty’s hands were clenched at her sides, and her gaze was dark with malice. When was the last time anyone had cared enough to get angry for him? When was the last time anyone had taken his side? Not since his mother, and the realization both cut deep but also warmed him. Was this what it was like to make friends? He’d seen her kill several people, and he was pretty sure murder and mayhem made them besties, but he didn’t want to ask in case he was wrong. At the very least, they were accomplices, which was still a very special bond, in its way.
Edward had always wondered how adults went about making friends. Since he was currently maneuvering across a parking lot strewn with used condoms, he now knew it involved a rocket launcher and a general lack of self-preservation. Both of which, apparently, they had in spades.
“Anyway,” he said, voice too loud to be mistaken for casual. “Here is better. Even with the guns, and the explosions, and the dick-copters. There’s nobody watching me, no one plotting. For the first time in a while, I feel…”
“Free?”
Edward met her eyes and grinned. “Free,” he replied.
At first, he thought she was going to match his smile with one of her own, but instead, she cleared her throat and turned her face away. “Doughnuts and anarchy,” she said in approval. “Fuck, yes.”
Her words surprised a chuckle out of him. For a split second, he could have sworn amusement teased the corners of her delectable mouth, but he had no way to prove it.
***
Dusty complained of a headache and dipped inside the corner Bodega under the pretense of buying some Tylenol. She convinced Edward to wait outside, and as soon as the glass door shut behind her, she pulled out her phone to call Ape.
He picked up on the first ring. “You couldn’t wait an hour so I could grab my Bud Lights first?”
“I’ll buy you more beer,” she rolled her eyes. “Now shut up. I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Go,” he ordered.
“I have a plan,” she said. “It’s a good one.”
“As good as blowing up my bar?” Ape grumbled.
“Our bar,” she corrected. “And you gotta let that shit go, Ape. It’s in the past. It’s time to look toward the future.” She picked up a Snickers, checked the expiration date, and put it back with a wince.
“Fine,” he said, sighing. “What is it?”
She took a deep breath, and her eyes darted to the window. “We kidnap him.”
Silence, then a click as Ape hung up the phone.
Tsking in annoyance, Dusty called him back and grabbed a box of off-brand tampons and the Tylenol. It never hurt to be prepared, after all, and she was running low on supplies back at her place. Through the window, the top of Edward’s head bobbed back and forth beneath a row of flyers. Anxious bastard was pacing again, and her heart squeezed at the sight.
Shit. This was why other gangs called her soft. Because she was.
“No,” Ape said without preamble.
“Listen. The guy, Andrew, doesn’t want Edward back. At least, not right now. In fact, I’m starting to doubt he even wants him dead.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ape asked.
Knowing she’d tickled his curiosity, Dusty breathed a silent sigh of relief. “We can use Andrew to convince Wilks to drop the investigation into the bank heist.” Her thoughts were racing a mile a minute, and it took an effort to keep her voice down as she spoke. “Even better, he can persuade the governor to postpone Rat’s execution for a few months. It would buy me enough time to get him out. Most politicians are money-hungry assholes. If Wilks will listen to anyone, it’ll be Andrew. Hell, for all I know, the two go golfing on the weekends or some shit.”
“Why the fuck would Andrew do any of that shit?”
Leaning against a row of chips, Dusty did her best to quell her shaking. “Because Edward’s got a court date,” She said, barely above a whisper. “And if Andrew does what he’s told, I’ll make sure Pretty Boy never steps foot inside a courtroom.”
Dusty didn’t know much, but she wasn’t stupid. If Edward missed his day in court, his holdings and control of his company all had to go somewhere. If Andrew was the one trying to push the conservatorship, chances were all those assets would go straight to him in the event Edward was found incompetent.
“You think a missed court date is going to be enough to solve all our problems?”
“ If Andrew’s as greedy as I believe he is, it’ll be more than enough.”
She didn’t want to get into the details. Not here in the Bodega across from a broken refrigerator full of souring energy drinks. Betrayal left a sour taste on her tongue, but she ignored it. She wasn’t just doing this for Rat. She was doing this for the Legion, for the men and women who counted on her the most. Because if the governor went after them, if he truly dug deep, then there was nothing Dusty could do to keep her men from seeing the inside of a prison cell.
Her jaw tightened. “Contact Andrew. Make the offer. In fact, throw in twenty million dollars while you’re at it. That should be enough to pay for the bar, right? Your insurance isn’t shit, so I doubt it’ll cover much.”
“Are you insane?”
“Yes.”
“There’s no way in hell he’s giving us twenty million dollars to babysit his business partner.”
Dusty shrugged. “They’re multi-millionaires. This is chump change. Less than they pay in taxes. You know… if they pay taxes.”
“Dusty…”
“Doesn’t matter if we get the money or not, Ape. That shit is just a bonus.”
It was risky, but it could work. The governor might be willing to show leniency in regard to the heist since no money was stolen and the majority of the casualties were hers. As long as no one found out she was the one running the Legion, they couldn’t tie Rat to anything. If nothing else, Wilks could content himself with the members of the Legion already in custody, rather than drag her father into the mix. As for Andrew, Dusty wondered how fast investors would pull out if they thought the CEO of the company—and the brains behind every high-tech security gadget on the market—was being held for ransom. It wouldn’t do their precious stocks any favors. No, Andrew would do as he was told, and he’d stay far away from both the press and the police while he did so. Which left the nameless, faceless assassin to worry about.
“Anything on the shooter?” she asked, as she wandered over to the checkout counter. Five minutes had passed. If she stayed any longer, she was afraid Edward would come looking for her. Already, his pacing was bringing him closer and closer to the door.
“Nothing. Trail's about dead on that front, unless some of Otter’s contacts come through.” He hesitated. “Dusty, I’ve never kidnapped anyone before.”
“Don’t worry, Ape, it’s way easier than you think.” She swiped a bag of chips on her way to the register. “Andrew will want a paper trail or something to cover his ass. Anything to hide his involvement in all of this. Once he agrees and wires you the money as a show of good faith, give him one.”
“How the hell am I supposed to do that?”
“How the fuck should I know?” she demanded. “Get creative. Make Diesel cut some letters out of a magazine or some shit. Send the fucker a ransom note demanding a taxidermy bear stuffed to the brim with heroin and gummy worms. We’ll call him Heroine Bear and put him in a place of honor in our brand-new bar in a few months as a reminder of what a goddamn genius I am.”
The cashier, a Hispanic kid no older than twelve, rang her up. She took the Tylenol and tossed him the chips and an extra $50.00. He grinned, a high-pitched sound of excitement escaping before she pressed a finger to her lips and winked. “You didn’t hear shit, and I was never here,” she told him, and he nodded.
Dusty left the Bodega, glancing up and down the street for Edward. He was sitting on the sidewalk a few yards away, his face against his knees, and his shoulders were high and tight.
Eyes still trained on Edward, she kept her voice low. “If Andrew did hire the sniper, this should be enough to make him back down. At least for now.” After all, he didn’t need Edward dead to take him for everything he’d ever worked for. He just needed him out of sight and out of mind long enough for the judge to make a ruling. She wished she could explain all of this to Ape, but she couldn’t risk being overheard.
“This had better work.”
Dusty ignored the queasy feeling in her gut and let loose the breath she’d been holding, relieved to have Ape on her side. “It will.” It might . “Just trust me.” Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
“Always have,” he said, and warmth suffused her. “Always will.”