“You sound proud of yourself. You still going to feel that way when I choke you to death?”
She laughs. Howser hits me — a shot to my side that dislodges one of my floating ribs — and then Anna slaps me when I’m doubled over from having my ribs fucked up. “Oh, I’ll be proud of myself. Once we dump your body in the desert and I catch a flight out of here. In a day or two, I’ll be sipping cocktails on the beach in Vanuatu. They’re tax free, non-extradition, and I can fucking buy citizenship there. I’ve got this shit planned out, you dumb son of a bitch.”
I sit up, look from her smug face to the driver. We’re leaving the outskirts of Torreon and it won’t be much longer till we’re in the desert and Anna and her rent-a-thugs will feel safe enough to finish me.
My eyes catch a shimmer of something dull in the distance in the rear view mirror. Something sun-weathered. Something that, even when it was brand new, was bland as hell. The Volvo.
I never thought I’d ever be happy to see that beige trashcan on wheels.
Crash is behind the wheel and Razor’s in the front seat — the cavalry has arrived on the ugliest horse in existence.
Then another head pops up from the back seat. Tiffany. And she points towards us and I see her shout the words ‘Faster’.
What is she doing here? She ratted me out.
Did Saint Tiffany have a change of heart? Is the fact that Anna will definitely try to murder me make her change her mind? Or does she just want to rescue me so she can have another opportunity to say ‘I told you so’?
Whatever it is, it pisses me off to no end seeing a snake like her or think about whatever lies she’s spouting into my brothers’ ears. I have no intention of dying, but I also have no intention of being saved by a rat like her.
It’s time to act.
There are six inches of steel interlocking chain links connecting my two cuffs. Just enough to cover the thick neck of the meathead driving the SUV.
First, I throw an elbow, hard, sideways, right into the face of Howser and there’s a satisfying, wet snap as my elbow caves in his nose. He howls, but before anyone can move, I hurl myself to the left, ramming my body into the other burly meathead and slamming his head into the window. Then, I hook my arms over the top of the driver’s seat and lower the chain around the driver’s throat. Grunting, I plant my feet on the back of the driver’s seat, and I wrench with all my force in one hard tug. Chain meets throat. There’s resistance at first and then there’s a crack that reminds me of the times when I was a kid and my mom used to have me snap the wishbone in a chicken at dinnertime. The driver releases the wheel and throws his hands out in a gurgling cry of agony. After a few spasmodic twitches, he’s done.
The SUV veers wild to the right. We leave the road.
Anna screams.
I laugh.
The SUV thunders straight into a ditch. The inside of the vehicle becomes a mess of flying, bloody bodies. My world goes black for a blurry moment as my head hits the roof, then goes black again as the SUV rolls and I collide face first with the floor. Over and over we turn, steel screaming, bodies flying, and then there’s one final thud as the vehicle comes to rest in a dusty desert ditch.
I awaken a moment later in this crumpled metal canister. There’s steam coming from the upside-down front hood, blood covers the dashboard, the driver is dead and my two backseat companions are out cold.
But Anna is wide awake.
With eyes that are two bloody slits of fury, with full lips split open, revealing three bloody gaps where teeth used to be, she is the perfect picture of rage; if rage were a bleached-blond, empty-headed bitch.
She throws open the glove box and pulls out a gun.
“I’m going to fucking kill you, Declan. I’m going to kill you and your stupid bitch mother. I will murder her with my bare hands and bury her old ass in concrete. You’ve fucked everything up.”
I kick open the back door and hurl myself out of the back seat and onto the desert sand just as a crack erupts from her pistol and a bullet tears a hole right where I was just a second ago.
“Fucking shit up is my specialty, you bitch. Look at what I’ve done to my life. But I’ll be damned if I let some whore like you be the one to take me out,” I shout at her as I crouch for cover behind the SUV.
There’s grunting and repetitive thuds as she kicks at the front passenger door to force it open. Steel grinds, then there’s an angry whoop as the door flies open.
Then come the bullets.
She shoots like a virgin on Prom Night; bullets tear up the SUV, sending sparks and shrapnel into my face as I duck for cover.
And with every shot comes her shrill scream; the rage of a woman watching her multi-million dollar masterpiece fall to pieces around her.
“You fucked it all up, Declan. You fucked it up. And now I’m going to kill you and your stubborn bitch of a mother and put her wrinkled old body beneath six feet of concrete.”
Sparks fly and a chunk of shrapnel buries itself in my cheek. Blood fills my mouth, and I spit into the thirsty desert sand as I circle the SUV, doing my damnedest to stay out of her line of sight.
“This isn’t going to end well for you, Anna — I’m not a thinker
