Page 56 of Between Brothers

“You bet,” I exhaled, relief flooding through me as I realized that any floating residue would be chalked up to her sugar request.

I hurried to the kitchen, while she took her turn in the bathroom. When she returned, we settled in the living room and sipped together. It couldn’t have been for more than thirty minutes, but it felt like an eternity before that pill kicked in and she laid her head on my shoulder.

Her even breaths soon turned into faint snoring. I tucked the cover around her shoulders and smoothed the hair off her face.

“Get your beauty rest, love. I got you,” I whispered over her, before grabbing my coat.

The parking lot of the butcher shop was mostly empty save for a vehicle in the back. I rounded the bull chutes and knocked on the side door like Bootsie had instructed.

“Girl, you are cra…” She trailed off when she realized it was me and not Kennedy.

Her broad shoulders kept the door open, but it was clear the heavy bucket of blood required all her strength.

“I need to talk to you,” I spoke quietly, and took the bucket before she could withdraw, causing a bit of it to slop on her shoe in the process.

She darted back and stared down at her shoe and then up at me.

“Kennedy said you were her best friend. If that’s true, you should walk out back with me. If it isn’t, disregard everything I’ve said.” I hoped I hadn’t scared her off, but I didn’t have time to waste smoothing things over.

For a minute, I thought she wasn’t going to come out, but halfway to the car, I heard the door clip shut behind me. I didn’t try to be discreet; I opened her passenger door, leaned in and flung the shit everywhere.

“What the fuck?” Bootsie snapped, darting toward me.

“I need to convince someone I killed her, and I need you to forget you saw me in order to make it happen.”

She stopped in her tracks, her lips floundering while a thousand questions flashed in her eyes.

“Bootsie, if you love her, too…”

“Of course, I love her,” she spat, almost sounding insulted.

I handed her the bucket back and rounded the car, planting my ass in the messy, crimson seat without a second thought, “Then remember what I said. You haven’t seen anyone, you don’t know anything. Matter of fact, call her phone a time or two after lunch, when she doesn’t answer, call her dad and ask if he has seen her.”

“Roy,” she blurted out, as I shifted the car into gear.

I met her gaze, and could predict the question even before she uttered it, “She–she is okay, ri–?”

“She’s fine. I’m gonna keep her safe, but I need your help to do it.”

She slowly nodded, backing away from the car with tears in her eyes. I knew she meant to sound threatening, but her voice cracked a little when she charged, “You better.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Front Row Seat

Kingston

I slept better than I had in a long while. It was crazy how pulling on something as small as a trigger could release so much stress.

It wasn’t taking Paxton out specifically that had done it, there was nothing personal to the matter. It was more the idea of my being the one to have enough power and balls to decide when his time was up.

Birdman had no business leading the Saints, but I’d let him serve as a fall man for as long as possible. I’d let him believe whatever suited me, if he wasn’t in my way.

I showered, shaved, and put on my best jeans before heading over to Forty’s house.

The place was surprisingly normal, save for Kennedy’s missing car. I came to a stop where it normally would have been parked and stared at the door. It was tightly shut, and the shades were still drawn.

There weren't any detectives or drama to be noted.