“I’ll take the briefcase, Mr. Cosmos, with thanks.”
Cosmos’s face contorted, his black eyes narrowing. “Don’t do this, Allen. We had a deal.”
“We have a new deal now,” Allen said. “I know how you people think. You’ll kill me and absorb the kid into your organization so you don’t have to give me a cut. That’s not going to happen.”
Josh advanced, and Cosmos shrugged and started to hand it over. The man looked pissed but calm and collected, like being robbed by a business partner was an everyday occurrence.
Josh got his hand on the handle of the briefcase, his eyes never leaving the dealer. He didn’t see the move until it was too late. Cosmos was lighting quick. He shoved the briefcase into Josh’s chest, knocking him backward onto his ass, and whipped out his gun. Fired.
But Allen anticipated the move and fired at the same time. The shots echoed through the Nashville night. A dog started to bark frantically, and the dealer collapsed on the pavement, leaking blood from a leg wound. He groaned and fumbled for his weapon.
Allen calmly said, “Shit. Missed.” He fired again, and Cosmos stopped moving.
Josh ducked behind Cosmos’s car. Fuck. Fuck! Allen had just killed the guy.
Crazy-ass motherfucker. And Josh was a witness. The only witness.
And he saw what was happening, clear as day. The gun Allen had used to kill Cosmos had Josh’s prints all over it.
He realized he was holding the briefcase.
Allen chuckled, five feet to his right, moving closer. Hunting him in the dark.
“It’s safe now, kid. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Josh swallowed, pointed the gun at Allen, shut his eyes, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
Son of a bitch. His weapon was unloaded.
Hamilton, you are a first-class idiot.
He looked around him for something, anything that could help. Cosmos lay dead on the other side of the car. His gun was by his side.
Josh scrambled under the car, twisting on the hard ground, lugging the briefcase with him. He came out the other side, right next to the body. His fingers found metal, and his heart stopped racing. He could fix this.
Josh took a deep breath, clutching the dealer’s gun in his hand. He stood and pointed the new weapon at Allen. His voice was cool and steady. “Stop moving.”
“Don’t you even think about it, Hamilton. Give me the briefcase, and no one will get hurt.”
He didn’t waver, and Allen’s face grew wary.
“I see what you were doing, Allen. This is a setup for me, too. Get my prints on the gun, kill Cosmos, turn me in. You waltz away with the money and the pills, and I take the fall. Is that about what was supposed to happen?”
“Hey, now, kid. It’s just the price of doing business. You’ve become a liability. I can see the struggle in you. You’re ready to bolt, to turn yourself or me in, try to get your life back. I can’t have that. The cartel wanted to cut me out, use you directly. I’m protecting you. And you belong to me now. You’ll keep your mouth shut, or you know what happens. I destroy your pretty little wife. You get me?”
Something inside him broke. The months of agony, the betrayal, the pressure, it all exploded, and this time, he didn’t close his eyes before pulling the trigger. The gun roared, and Allen dropped, shock on his face. His gun hand relaxed, and the weapon fell to the pavement with a clatter.
Oh, fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.
Sirens broke the distant air. The dog was still barking its fool head off.
Allen was dying, his eyes glazed in pain and shock.
Josh’s mind cleared. He picked up Allen’s gun and wiped it down, then put it back in his hand. He wiped the SIG down, replaced the gun by Cosmos’s body. Stuck his head into Allen’s car. The drugs were there. He grabbed everything he could, shoved the pills, coke, and Rx pads in his pockets.
The sirens were getting closer.
He looked at the scene. Prayed like hell the cops would pull up and think it was a drug deal gone bad and the two men had shot each other.
And he took off running, the briefcase heavy in his arms.
CHAPTER 65
It took him fifteen minutes to run to the house.
There was a path that cut through the neighborhood behind the houses. It wasn’t safe for Aubrey to jog alone at night, but he was a man, and he was carrying a weapon. He’d risk it.
When he made it into his neighborhood, a thought hit him: Aubrey had the house keys.
Shit. An inconvenience, but a manageable one.
Aubrey had been upset with him when he wanted to stow a key outside. She didn’t feel safe like that. People always left their keys outside. Over the doorsill, under the mat, under a rock. It was crazy, she said. Anyone with half a brain could find it.
So he’d gone a step further.