Page 83 of One Last Rainy Day
Tyler full on rushes me, gripping my T-shirt in both hands. Nose to nose, he stares me down, and I don’t waver. “We’re the someones, Tyler. That’s who we decided to be.” He searches for the cracks in my psyche, but I haven’t felt them yet. Right now, I feel nothing, and it must show because he steps back, seeming satisfied, before releasing me and hanging his head. “Goddamnit, Dom.”
“You’re wasting time already,” I remind him.
“Those plans have to change,” he snaps.
“They don’t,” I tell him as he looks up at me, staring through me, his mind racing with a dozen scenarios, tailoring each to further cover my tracks.
“Cameras?” Tyler prompts.
“Blacked out everything within blocks. No pedestrians on the street. I didn’t speed. I don’t think anyone made the car, and I didn’t get out.” I nod toward the dusted Buick. “We’ve owned it for years due to a mechanics lien.”
He gapes at me. “How long have you been planning this?”
“A while.” Since the fly vibrated on my web.
“Fuck!” Tyler slams his fist on his truck glaring at me, his request for Sean. “Get everyone to the garage. We’re going on a field trip. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”
I move to get into Sean’s Nova, and Tyler shakes his head.“Not you. Go to Denny’s and fucking stay there until I text you home.” He looks over to Sean. “He’s grounded.” Tyler snaps his gaze back to me, and I don’t bother to object. He’s the only one who can veto me, and there’s no fucking way around it. “This is what it is, or I bring France home. Don’t fucking test me on this, Dom.”
Exhausted, I give him a sharp dip of my chin as he climbs into his truck and speeds off. Sean sparks up a cigarette, and I give him the words I know he needs. “I’m okay.”
Denny pulls up, and I round the car as Sean remains idle, studying me intently for the same cracks Tyler sought. Opening Denny’s passenger door, I jerk my chin. “Go. I’m all right, brother.”
Seconds later, Sean’s speeding off in his Nova. Denny remains wordless as I stare through the trees blurring out of his passenger window. On that drive, I realize I’ve finally reached the place I’ve been searching for. A state not quite as blissful as the peaceful place I’ve come to rely on but strong enough to recognize—numb.
I’ve bore witness to two prime examples that there are good men left in the world. Loyal men. Faithful men. Though thieves they may be because they’ve stolen my heart.
—Cecelia,Flock
Chapter Thirty-Five
TWO DAYS LATER,I stare up at my ceiling in the same position I’ve been in since Denny dropped me off hours ago—boots crossed, back on my mattress, palms on my stomach. The heavy repeat of his Nova jars me from the backdoors of my mind, and not a minute later, Sean’s silhouette appears at my door—partially lit by the streetlights. He stands in wait, none of his typical ‘little spoon’ quips coming while the aftermath of the last forty-eight hours emanates from him.
“You’ve been busy,” I say, knowing Tyler proceeded with our plans—along with improvisations—in an effort to sweep up after me. While I was on lockdown at Denny’s, Layla paced next to me as reports flooded their TV screen of the statewide manhunt for the second suspected gunman,me, who’s still at large. Hours after I fled, Tyler utilized the birds he trusted to divide and conquer. They made good use of the guns we lifted from the warehouse in a free-for-all of victimless gunfire—shooting up abandoned buildings and closed businesses. Starting in Charlotte, they webbed out in all directions—from the edge of the Tennessee border all the way to Nags Head Beach, leading those investigating on a wild-goose chase.
Sean palms my doorframe. “Stroke of genius to put those prints on some of the bullets.”
We’d already devised the plan to put partial and full prints that we extracted from Spencer and the dirty military on his payroll on some of the shell casings so the guns would be traced back to them. The tactic is meant to keep all government alphabet agencies and military investigators as far as possible from our county line while searching for the guns now in our possession. After the evidence was not-so-subtly planted, Tyler flagged one of our feather feds as to which locations to look for those prints to get them all investigated and possibly indicted. Convicted is another story. In that, I have zero faith.
“They’ll get off,” I state, toeing my boots off before nudging them off my bed.
“Worth trying, right?”
“Where is he?” My question regarding Tyler’s whereabouts and the status of the grudge he may still be harboring against me.
“Not coming back tonight,” Sean relays, “but he has his ringer on.”
For me.
I don’t ask about Cecelia, but I can sense what’s coming as he takes a seat at the edge of my bed. “She’s wondering where you are.”
“Let her,” I snap in warning, looking over to him as he casts his gaze my way and swallows.
“You know she asked me not too long ago who my hero was—”
“Don’t,” I warn, throat burning.
“That answer changed two days ago,” he relays without hesitation.
