Page 76 of Bitter Truth
Something’s missing. A forest-green hatchback, which must be the car Jake used to get here, is parked beside Garrett’s convertible. But the white sedan I drove is nowhere to be seen. It’s gone.
Of course. I had insinuated that I’d put some kind of explosive on Garrett’s Mercedes, an absolutely idiotic move in hindsight. And I’d left my keys in the ignition.
Hurrying over to the hatchback, I try the door. Locked. Framing my face with my hands, I peer through the window. It has a push button ignition. Even if I managed to get inside, it’s not going anywhere, not without the key fob.
I turn to face Garrett’s Mercedes, a classic from the 60s or 70s. The shiny silver 280SL appears to be in pristine condition. But not for long.
Marching over to the warehouse, I fish my gun from the weeds, then snatch the chunk of concrete from beside the door. Holding it in my fist like a dagger, I approach the vehicle, intending to slash my way through the convertible’s soft top, but something on the ground catches my attention first.
Bending, my hand strikes out like a snake, afraid that if I’m not quick enough, it’ll disappear. I stare at the device in my palm. It’s Jake’s burner phone.
The device is scorching hot from baking in the sun. Jagged fissures zigzag across the cracked screen. I holdmy breath as I press the button on the side to power it on.
It still works. Not only that, as I take in what I’m looking at, the app that Jake left running, I realize how he knew I was here. And that he must have believed that I’d escape the warehouse to come find him. Any anger I might have felt upon realizing he’d had a tracking device on our car is quickly replaced by hope as I watch the tiny green moving dot.
I jog the remaining steps to Garrett’s Mercedes. Use the sharp edge of the concrete to rend a gash through the convertible’s top. Reaching through the hole I made, I pop the lock, let myself in, and take a seat behind the wheel. Digging my fingers into the gap on the steering column, I tear it open.
I’ve just made a wreck of Garrett’s car, but that’ll be the least of his concerns. In just a few minutes, I’ll have this baby hotwired and running. Then, I’m coming for him. This time, I have the element of surprise on my side along with a blinding rage I won’t hesitate to use.
I gave him the chance to walk away from this battle. He failed to take it. Now, he’ll have to deal with the consequences. As far as I’m concerned, this is war. I might not be able to end it, but for now I’ll settle with ending him.
CHAPTER 40
Adrenaline floods my system in steady pulses as I race along US1, weaving in and out of traffic, driving like a maniac. I’m not worried about attracting attention—let the cops try to pull me over. I want them to come after me. Thanks to Jake’s tracking app, I’ll lead them right to where they need to be.
Only, as I pass a squad car while going fifty miles an hour over the posted speed limit and they fail to give chase, I realize that’s not going to happen. Garrett’s Mercedes is too distinctive, too easily recognizable. The police don’t know that he’s not the one behind the wheel. Even if local law enforcement isn’t on his side, it appears as if they’re not willing to start trouble with him either.
Which means I’m on my own.
A sinking sensation sweeps over me at the thought. Glancing down at the phone screen, I’m hit by another, this one strong enough that I feel myself being pulled down by the undertow. Because that little blinking dot on the screen? It’s stopped moving.
Multiple horns honk as I veer into oncoming traffic to pass a dump truck, pulling back into my lane less than a dozen feet before a head-on collision. But it’s not the close call that has my heart thumping so hard against the walls of my chest.
I turn off onto a side road, still traveling so fast that I’m practically standing as I jerk the wheel. Glimpses of the ocean ahead appear as I catch air over potholes. Rundown buildings pen me in on the sides, fishing traps and scrapped boats littering the patchy dirt yards.
According to the tracker app, I’m getting close to where the car Jake and Garrett were in has stopped. I’m forced to slow, afraid that I’ll miss a turn, but even as I do, I know it’s in vain. The tension in my gut tells me where they’ve gone. And as I spot the white sedan parked ahead, my suspicions are confirmed.
Coming to a stop, I debate my options. As I watch the two figures get farther away down the pier, I know I don’t have long to make my decision. Horror swells inside my chest as I realize I’m out of time—and so is Jake.
Hopping out of the car, I break into a run, moving as fast as my legs will carry me. The two men in front of me have come to a stop. The smaller of the two gestures. The larger moves to the very edge of the crumbling wooden structure.
They’re at least two hundred feet away, too far for them to hear the sound of my shoes slapping against the blacktop. But not too far for me to see the dejected slump of Jake’s shoulders as he turns his back to the other man, facing the water.
I reach the sedan just as Jake laces his hands together, placing them on the top of his head. I stretch my arms across the top of the car. Try desperately tocontrol my breathing as Jake sinks down, one knee making contact with the dock.
In this moment, I couldn’t care less about any oath I’ve taken to uphold the law. Or about following protocol. Screw the book. I don’t announce myself. I don’t say a word. As Jake’s second knee approaches the wood, I curl my finger, a gentle squeeze, not a pull, timed with my exhale.
Jake’s body jerks as a series of gunshots ring out. A flock of seagulls takes to the air with startled cries. The earth seems to shake beneath my feet, my shoes thudding hollowly across the deck as I run, blinded by tears as I sob uncontrollably.
Then I’m in the air, a pair of strong arms wrapped around me so tightly my ribs feel like they might snap, but I don’t care about that, or the way I can’t breathe, or the sudden overwhelming urge I have to pee. All I care about is the mouth pressed against mine.
“Are you okay?” I ask, pulling back, inspecting Jake’s body from head to toe as I squeeze his cheeks between my hands so hard that I might leave bruises.
“I’m fine. What about you?”
I answer him with a series of kisses as I do my best to cover every inch of his face, not stopping until we’re both breathless. Squeezing my eyes shut, I lean against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart beneath my ear. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard such a beautiful sound before.
“It’s over,” I sigh.
