His hot breath settles on my face, drawing away the attention from that familiar foot smell. Jared grabs my shoulders firmly. “What do you think?” His question is clearly rhetorical, since he’s already made his decision of what’s going to go down in this room.
Little does he know, so have I.
I slide my right hand back, gripping that cold, hard thing tucked into my waistband and without another thought, I yank it out. I grasp it with both hands and shove it against his belly. “Actually, I had something else in mind.”
Jared’s eyes go wide and immediately he removes himself from me.
This time, it’s me that advances on him, pushing him further away, until he can’t go anywhere else.
“Get your fucking hands off of me,” I demand.
“Watch it with that thing,” Jared spits out.
“Where’s the package?” I ask him.
Jared narrows his gaze. “What are you talking about?” He keeps his arms outstretched and to the side, facing me.
“Don’t act like you don’t know. Where is it?”
He glances down and then back up at me, his resolve fading. “Do you even know how to use that thing?” Jared smirks like he’s somehow got the upper hand despite the gun I’m aiming at him.
Without taking my eyes off of him, I slide my thumb down to switch the safety off. “You tell me.” I shove the thing further into him, only this time, I aim for his groin. “Now, do I need to ask again, or should I shoot your fucking dick off?”
One of the perks of being raised by a gun-toting dad is learning how to use one at an early age. It wasn’t something we did often, but enough for me to learn the basics and get comfortable with handling one. I’ve never been more thankful for those awkward daddy-daughter days at the gun range.
Sheer panic replaces the snide expression on his face. “Okay, okay, yeah. It’s over there.” He points behind me.
I don't dare break my concentration and give him an opportunity to disarm me. “You think you're clever? Tell me exactly where it is.”
“The, uh, the closet. Behind his jackets.” He practically spits out the words.
“You fucking move and I shoot you, do you hear me?” I keep the gun pointed at him but take a step back. I use my peripheral to glance out the location and slowly make my way in that direction.
He raggedly nods like he’s afraid I might actually do it. There’s something about the way he fears me for a change that is so incredibly empowering.
I take my left hand off the grip and feel around inside the space. I fumble through the T-shirts until I find the thicker, heavier stuff I'm searching for. I reach farther and graze my hand along the wall. I start to doubt whether Jared was telling the truth or not.
My heart seems to jump out of my chest when my fingers skim a section of tape. I trace the outline and rip the thing off the wall. With the weapon still pointed at Jared, I bring the package out into the open.
Yellow, just like Johnny had told me, the same exact size his hands had motioned toward. Except there’s one thing he didn’t mention. The dark splotches of his dried blood that were left behind.
I glance down at the gun in my hand, and then at Jared with an anger coursing through me that is all-consuming.
“Was it you?” I ask him through my clenched teeth.
“What?” He feigns confusion.
“Were you involved with the attack?” I extend the package. “To steal this?”
Jared places both hands up in the air and shakes his head. “No, I swear. I had nothing to do with it.”
But why should I believe him? After what he might have done to me, who’s to say what he’s capable of. He could very well be lying right now to save his ass.
He seems to sense that I don’t trust what he’s telling me. “I didn’t. It was Steve and Boston. They got the order; I only knew about it.”
The memory of Johnny, lying there helpless on the ground, bleeding out and practically unconscious, assaults me heavily. I barely knew him but even then, the idea of someone hurting him like that was an impossible pill to swallow. He could have died. All because of some fuckingorder.
Why should I allow a person like Jared to continue to exist in this world? Even if he’s telling the truth, he’s still guilty by association. And Johnny aside, he’s a threat to any woman he sets his sights on. He doesn’t deserve to exist.
A chill creeps up my spine, reminding me that Griffin is still out there. Another menace to this world. I knew he was a monster, but when that officer showed me the numerous reports filed against Griffin, it solidified how terrible of a person he is. And the thing that concerns me the most is he’s still capable of ruining more lives.
If Griffin wakes up and tells the authorities his story of what happened that night, Johnny could be in trouble. Sure, Griffin has a checkered past, but he’d be telling the truth, and if he’s able to prove it, Johnny and I would be screwed.
But for now, I need to focus on the more time-sensitive problem in front of me. The two-hundred-plus-pound man nearly shitting his pants at the sight of a five-foot-something girl pointing a loaded gun at him.
The biggest mystery of all: Do I pull the trigger?