And that is the end of Bulletproof.
Who would have thought it would only take one shot at close range to take down the man, the myth, the legend, Emil “Bulletproof” Whitman?
The kingpin’s many enemies —some within his own organization— have tried and failed repeatedly to end his life with hired snipers. And every single time, Bulletproof came home from the hospital with a new scar or a metal plate in his head.
Instead, he was taken down by a seventeen-year-old girl at her high school graduation party.
The deejay starts a remix on cue with loud, thumping bass. The dance floor, about fifty yards down the slope from the treehouse, erupts in group dancing. Perfect.
But then, voices sound behind me at the backyard pool party. Someone is looking for Bulletproof.
I recognize the voice; it’s his son, Crypto.
Either way, I can’t stand that guy. Not only does he worship his father, but he also walks in his footsteps, carrying out any diabolical deed assigned to him with the fervor of a faithful sycophant. He’s already earned himself a made-man nickname, and it’s not because he’s into Bitcoin. He got the name Crypto because he thinks he’s a vampire and had his underground torture chamber built for interrogations. People who have seen it say it looks like a crypt, which makes me want to vomit. That persona started the day he saw me reading theTwilightbooks, and I don’t think it was a coincidence. He was trying to impress me. Double vomit.
Crypto’s getting closer. “Pa!” he calls out. “Where are you at?”
I stash the gun in my handbag, joining dozens of graduation cards containing loads of cash, along with the thick envelope from Khaz.
I step outside onto the little platform that wraps around the treehouse. It’s worn and creaks under my weight, but I’ve practiced this nine-foot jump. All I have to do is not twist an ankle. And then jump the fence and run balls-out into the woods, where I’ll toss my old phone in the creek and use my new phone to find my way to the bus station under cover of trees.
It’s all going to work. It has to work.
I take a deep breath, jump…. and land too hard. A sharp pain shoots up the length of my leg, and I stumble. I hadn’t factored in the extra weight of the bag of supplies. That’s what I get for being resourceful.
Everyone at the party is pretty tipsy already, and no one notices me limp to the back gate that faces the woods, I’m sure. Except for the one henchman, Spade, who’s posted outside the stone fence, facing the woods. And I already have a plan for that. Khaz put two bullets in the gun for me. One for Bulletproof and one for a security guard, in case things go south. But I have no beef with Spade.
As expected, the guard questions me.
“Where you going, Ms. Kendall?”
I turn and smile at him and place my finger over my lips. “Don’t tell Daddy. This party’s boring, and I’m going to meet a boy.”
Spade squints at me. This is not entirely unlike me to try to sneak out; I usually do it in the middle of the night. Spade, for one, has personally escorted me back home more than I can count.
“You know what he’ll do to me if he finds out you left your own party?”
I smile. “You didn’t see anything.”
I then shrug too forcefully. My bag drops from my shoulder.
Oh shit.
Spade looks down and sees the metal edge of the gun twinkling in the midday sun.
Fuck me.
“Kendall, what the fuck….”
The jig is up now. I fucked it all up.
“Spade. Please.”
He points a thick finger in my direction. “You know the old man made me shoot the guard who fell asleep that first night you sneaked out?”
I suck in a breath. “Wh-what? You’re joking.”
Spade’s face is not of someone who jokes. Ever. “Why do you think, ever since then, my eyes have been on you 24/7? You think it’s ‘cause I don’t like sleep?”