Suddenly there’s a crack, then another crack, then another, and at first I don’t understand because it’s not coming from any of these men’s guns. No, it’s coming from somewhere else, somewhere in the dark. One of the men jerks, goes down, followed by another man—the barrel pressing against the top of my head disappears—and the two remaining men disperse, returning fire into the darkness of the desert.
An engine growls in the night. Headlights are flicked on, showing a vehicle already coming up the drive to the ranch house. Even from here I can see it’s the Escalade, having crawled this far without lights, now speeding forward.
At once I understand who’s in the dark shooting, and I figure Nova must be set up on one of the hills with a sniper rifle. The two men continue to return fire, forgetting me momentarily, and I shoot the first man, then the second.
The gun in hand, I do a quick three-sixty, making sure there are no more surprises. The only movement that catches my eye are the girls now huddled in the doorway of the ranch house, the girl I’d popped in the gut glaring at me.
Ignoring her, I hurry over to the guards’ house. It’s empty, the same men still lying dead in the same positions I left them in. I come back out just as Scooter pulls up the Escalade. Nova hurries down from the hill, his rifle in hand. I sprint forward, more glad than ever to see them.
Nova reaches the Escalade first. He opens the back door, tosses in his rifle, shakes his head at me as he closes the door.
“I thought Berlin was the last time,” I say to him, grinning.
Scooter shuts off the engine, opens the door and steps out. He too is shaking his head, but he’s smiling as he chews his gum. “You, Holly, are one crazy bitch.”
“Yeah, but I’m one hot crazy bitch.”
He laughs, shakes his head again, steps forward to take me into an embrace. It’s a rare thing but I allow it, my heart still pounding, knowing how close to biting it I had come. I’ve been there before, right near the threshold of death’s doorway, but always managed to jump back. This time I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.
Nova must see it first. My back is to the ranch house, the girls momentarily forgotten. Scooter is hugging me, holding me tight, and Nova is standing behind him, still smiling. Then the smile fades. He starts to open his mouth but it’s Scooter I hear shouting. Next thing I know I’m being squeezed even tighter, Scooter grabbing me and turning to the side, letting go as he turns back and faces whatever’s coming at him.
It’s the girl I’d popped, the one who had first moved at Julio’s demand. She’s come out of the ranch house, picked up one of the guns, and God help me, I realize it’s my gun she has, the P226 now raised as she hurries forward, screaming and firing.
Scooter takes the bullets. He stays in front of me and he takes each bullet, and for an instant I just stand there, paralyzed, not sure what to do.
Then I move. Even before Nova can, I step past Scooter and run at the girl who’s running at me. She’s still shooting but I don’t care. I intercept her, knock the gun out of her hand, punch her in the face, kick her in the knee, send her to the ground. Then I reach down, grab the gun—my own goddamned gun—and stand back up, aim at her face and fire until she no longer has a face, until there are no more bullets, and I’m left pulling the trigger and hearing the dry clicks.
Nova shouts my name.
The woman is dead but still I want to kill her again.
“Holly, help me!”
I turn away. The gun still in hand, I sprint back to the Escalade. Nova is on his knees, holding Scooter. Somehow, Scooter is still alive. His entire chest has been ravaged by bullets but he’s still alive.
I fall to my knees. I say to Nova, “Start the truck.”
“Holly—”
“Start the truck!”
He gets to his feet, runs to the Escalade. The engine roars to life.
I hold Scooter, whispering to him that everything’s going to be okay. He wheezes, coughs up blood.
Nova is back out of the Escalade, hurrying over to pick up Scooter. I run to the back, open the door and get inside to help Nova load Scooter in. Scooter is wheezing even more, and I don’t know why I kid myself, but I actually think that it will be okay. That we’ll get Scooter the help he needs. That they’ll extract the bullets, close the wounds, nurse him back to health.
I even murmur this to him as Nova gets into the front of the Escalade, puts it in gear, spins the tires in the dirt as he does a wild one-eighty and sends us back down the drive toward the road. I hold Scooter close, Scooter who keeps wheezing and coughing up blood, and I tell him that everything will be okay, it will be okay, it will be okay, until at some point he stops wheezing and stops coughing up blood and the piece of bubblegum he was chewing falls from his mouth to the floor.
Part Two
Work Is Work
Fourteen
At 5:45 AM my alarm goes off. I’m already awake. I’ve been awake, just lying here in bed, staring up at the ceiling or at the corners of my room or sometimes, when I felt courageous enough, at Josh sleeping beside me.
He snores, a heavy, steady breathing. Like a hiccup, I wait for him to stop, but somehow find relief after each throaty breath. Despite the sixty-eight degrees I have the thermostat set at, he’s
