Carson listened to the threats sanguinely. He remembered their last meeting, where he’d been worried about being mildly rude to this man, and almost laughed. “Chops, do you remember the time you told me I underestimated myself?” he asked when Chops fell silent.
“Yeah. So?”
He took the phone from his ear and held it right in front of his mouth. “Well, you were right. I underestimated myself, but so did you. That time is over.” Carson’s voice did not rise above that of a man ordering a fast-food cheeseburger, but the malevolent hate that came through them gave his words a physical power, one that threatened to melt the device. “You aren’t coming after me – I’m comin’ after you. I just dealt with two of your supposed tough guys without breaking a sweat. You think any of the rest of your punk crew can deal with me? One by one, I’m gonna rip your fucking souls out through your assholes and hang each of them over my mantle. You’re gonna’ be the centerpiece.”
Katie, who was looking around nervously, turned to him upon hearing his vicious threat. “Are you crazy?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but her face was so animated Carson would have understood her from low-earth orbit. “We have to get out of here!” Carson nodded and held up a finger.
A spluttering sound came through the phone, followed by a voice that roared with the purest form of anger. “You’re threatening me? Who the hell do you think you’re talkin’ to?! You don’t tell me shit, you rookie boy scout! You crossed the wrong guy! You’re a dead motherfucker walkin’!” The last words faded away as if the phone had been grabbed from Chops. The next voice Carson heard when he put the phone back to his ear was calm and collected and definitely not the same person. “I told you not to fuck this one up, Navy.”
“Peetey Hooks. What a surprise. I’m looking forward to dealing with you most of all. I think the best part about poundin’ your head through the pavement will be Chops seeing me destroy his lapdog and knowing he doesn’t have a fuckin’ prayer.”
Hooks chuckled. “Yeah? Here’s the thing – I know you and what you’re about. I know how you trained. I know what you’ll do and how you’ll react. You don’t know jack about me. Maybe I’ll fill you in just before I snap your skinny neck.”
Carson knew to keep it short. Chops’ blind anger wouldn’t control his brain for long, and he was smart enough to send someone after him while trying to keep him distracted and on the phone. “Well, then, I guess it’s on. I’m looking forward to the dance,” he responded before killing the call. He retrieved the phone from his other victim, ensured the GPS was turned off on both, and threw them into his pockets. He turned back to Katie, who stared at him agape. “Why did you piss them off like that?”
“Later,” he said, taking her hand. “Now we really have to go.”
Chapter 12
Family Matters
Carson hurled into turns at speeds near 70 as he navigated the dark, rain-slicked roads of southwestern Delaware. With all the work she had heard and seen Carson do in the last hour to save her ass, Katie hoped all those heroic efforts wouldn’t be for naught when he killed her with his driving.
“You know,” she said, hearing the engine RPMs jump after a particularly nasty S-turn, “being a Navy SEAL does not make you Richard Petty.”
“Maybe not,” Carson replied, his eyes locked on the road, “but I’m a lot more confident about my driving ability than dodging bullets. I don’t know how long after we left they showed up – they might have seen us leave and be right behind us. We need to get clear, regroup, and figure out our next steps.”
“But I thought we were just going to get the hell out of here, just go, not look back. What happened to that idea?”
“Not anymore. I’m done running. We’re done running.” Even if Katie missed the steel in his words, the resolute set of his jaw spoke volumes. She had a million questions for him, but she decided it was best to wait until the driving was over.
***
Ninety minutes later, she sat on the bed in a cheap beach-side motel room in Fenwick Island. Carson was digging through his duffel bag, laying out each item on the top of the dresser.
They’d had a little difficulty finding a motel, but after passing a few they pulled into a place with a vacancy sign glowing in the rainy mist. Holding her hand like they were newlyweds, he’d explained their wet and disheveled appearance to the man at the desk as a result of a holdup in Maryland during which they’d had their wallets and wedding rings stolen. That meant they couldn’t provide ID or a credit card, but she carried a lot of emergency cash in her suitcase (“She’s always so prepared. That’s why I love her so much.”). All they needed was a hot shower, a little dinner, and a bed to rest in. The room was $109 for the night, plus taxes? If he put $200 on the counter, could the man find a way to let them stay without a credit card?
Katie watched Carson work, utterly amazed. On the phone earlier, his voice had been quiet and calm yet evil enough to make Satan piss his pants. Now, he employed combination of manners, guile, flattery, and bribery like a Hollywood actor (or a Vegas huckster, she wasn’t sure which) so well the desk clerk expressed his sorrow at their misfortune and handed over a key to a second-floor room with a king-size bed. And now Katie sat on that bed and fantasized about getting into that hot shower, but she expected they would talk first.
Carson put a small black case down on the bed next
