No, what I'd been worried about was that he'd look into my face and I'd give up my ruse.
I was carrying on me the one thing him and Jacob kept obsessing over.
Peeling open my purse, I lifted the envelope free. Setting it on the kitchen counter, I thought I'd feel more... nervous. I was giving them the ultimate power. The two of them could erase me now and, knowing their skills, remove every sign that they were ever involved.
But actually, giving that letter up, I felt my shackles fall away.
Tension that had knotted in my heart melted. I'd told Kite I'd give this to him if I suspected I might be walking into Death's arms.
But that wasn't why I'd taken it from the bank this morning.
Pushing a hand to my throat, I slid it down, hugging myself tight. Their safety—their future—had become important to me. I cared about these assassins. Right in my atoms and molecules, right down to my very existence, I was determined not to let them be punished for my actions.
My flesh was tired, my mind was powered by determination. They'd been so drained after what we'd done, Kite hadn't heard me digging in his discarded jeans.
The key to his car cut into my palm when I reached the garage. This was my least favorite decision so far. Stealing his Mercedes was shitty, but I wasn't going to leave myself in a bind.
I was setting myself up to end this on my own. Public transportation? Please. If that was what fucked me over, I'd be a poor killer in the making.
In the silent bubble of that car, I slid out the napkin that carried all the secrets I'd been chasing. My phone was cool as I dialed the number. I was breathing tightly by the third ring—on the fourth, I was clammy.
The ringing died. “Yo,” Juice said, “What's up?”
Shutting my eyes, I leaned back in the seat. “It's me, Melony.” I licked my lips, burning with adrenaline. “I need to see you.”
“Whoa, eager,” he laughed. “Uh, sure. Let me give you my address.”
Revving the engine, I balanced the phone between my shoulder and ear. I was halfway down the street before we ended the call, his directions crisp in my brain. No music, no wind, I did nothing but crush the wheel and stare out the window.
Focus was the word of the moment.
He didn't live that far. Pulling down a side street to hide the car, I held my purse close and jogged to Juice's apartment. I could see him sitting on the front step, a cigarette lighting up his hard cheekbones.
He jumped up the second he saw me. “Hey girl, I didn't think you'd call so soon.”
Wasting no time, I closed the gap between us. “I need you to tell me about Frank Montego and his nephew.”
Juice balked, looking around as if he'd spot hidden cameras. “What the fuck? Come on, I thought maybe you and I could get to know each other first.”
Unzipping my purse, I yanked out a wad of cash. I didn't even know how much it was. “You wouldn't talk earlier. Will this help?”
Staring at the money, the kid's jaw fell open. “Shit, girl. You're not playing around.”
“No,” I agreed. “I'm not.”
Chewing his thin lips, Juice reached out and took the money. He flipped the edges, going from upset to paranoid in a blink. “Why do you want to know about Frankie?”
I considered lying. The fuzzy numbness was taking over, I was starting to feel invincible again. “He helped kill my family,” I said. The familiar horror entered his eyes. “I'm looking for someone close to him. You said Hecko was his nephew, and dead?”
“Right. Super dead. Word is he choked on his own vomit. Nasty, huh?” Juice smiled feebly. His tough act was just that, an act. Part of him clearly cared that this Hecko guy was gone. “Sorry about your... you know.”
I shook my head. “Don't be sorry, just tell me something I can use. I'm trying to find the guy who worked with Frankie. This was sixteen years back.”
“Man, I wouldn't know.” His shrug was exaggerated. “Actually, that guy Dennis brought up something similar.”
A tiny flash of joy filled me. Jacob had been trying to find information for me. It was immensely satisfying to hear it from someone else. “You couldn't help him?”
“Nah. We were both pissed off that night, we were just chatting. I don't think he was really looking for anyone. Listen, this happened a long time ago. I would've been a kid.” He lowered a hand to his knee, indicating an invisible child. “I wouldn't know about this. Frankie sold coke to me, that was all. He hung around lots of people. I'm good with faces, but that's too many for me to remember.”
The knowledge that this guy was, or used to be, a drug dealer didn't phase me. That he hung out with Frankie the Razor? Frank the monster who had killed my family?
That info didn't swallow easy.