Page 23 of Redemption
He groans in pain, no longer so quick with his tongue.
Good. Now, I won’t be so tempted to kill you.
I can’t help but be glad the priest is gone. I reach between us and unbuckle my belt. I slide it out of the loops and wrap it over his shoulder and cinch it under his armpit, attempting to slow the bleeding as much as I can.
“The fuck?” His dazed voice sounds confused. “What are you doing?”
“You’re going to live long enough to give me the answer to the first question I asked.”
“Fuck you, motherfucker.”
The roar of an engine comes from behind me. Digging a knee into his chest, I spin around to see what I really fucking hope is the same black Suburban my brother was driving.
The door slams, and my double comes rushing around the front.
“What are you doing? I told you to get out of here with the priest.”
“I dropped him off at the welcome center at the entrance. It was his idea. He said you need saving more than he does.”
With a harsh huff of a laugh, I shake my head. In a split second, I make a decision—no one is going to know I have a brother. Not in this fucking town. Not a chance.
Using my body to block the kid’s view of him, I lift my knee off his chest and flip him over like he’s already a dead body.
“Hey!” the kid shouts in pained protest, but I truly don’t give a fuck. I’m the only reason he’s not bleeding out right now.
I didn’t ask for this shit. I just wanted to lay my best friend to rest in peace.
Fuck. V.
“The cremains—the father was going to bless them before we laid V to rest.”
My brother nods, and it’s too fucking surreal right now to be staring at myself. “We’ll get them. Perhaps we should take this as a sign that he’s not meant to stay here, but to come with you instead.”
“I don’t know what this is a sign of, but we need to get the hell out of here. I need answers from this little prick.”
My brother glances at the body planted face down on the grass. “I’m not sure whether I should be impressed or concerned that you haven’t killed him yet.”
For some reason I can’t explain, his words make me smile. “I need to know who paid him. I need to know who the fuck is trying to kill me.”
“Everyone,” the kid says with a twisted laugh. “Everyone’s out to kill you now, Mount. You’re not untouchable anymore. We all see your weakness. Your day is fucking over. There’s a new king in town.”
His emphatic statements land like grenades in my gut. They’re not a surprise exactly, but the fact that they haven’t exploded is.
I focus on the most important thing he said. “There’s a new king in town.”
“Too bad you’re not a better shot. It’s unlikely your employer will miss you.” I rise, grabbing him by the back of his neck and lifting him to his feet with his face away from my brother. Looking over my shoulder at my double, I say, “Put on a hat and sunglasses if you have them. No one needs to see your face.”
With instant recognition of what I’m saying, he nods. “Of course. Give me a moment, please. I’ll help you load him up.”
His Italian accent has disappeared now—something I’m pretty damn sure is intentional.
This brother of mine might be a lot savvier than I realize. The fact that he’s not flipping out or reacting like a civilian tips my curiosity into overdrive.
Who is he, this brother of mine, that this situation doesn’t faze him? A question to be satisfied another time, obviously.
Within moments, he’s back, wearing a New Orleans Voodoo Kings hat and expensive, dark sunglasses.
“Do you happen to have duct tape as well?” I ask my brother.
