And there was Dezi, the psychopath, and Perish, the man who could be mistaken for a brick wall in the right light.
“Oh, we interrupting something?” Perish asked, smile devilish.
In my arm, the woman was stiff as a board, too scared even to tremble anymore. Against my arm, I could feel the frantic thud of her heart.
“Nope, nothing to see here,” I said, keeping the woman against me so they wouldn’t see the gun. “You guys here to party?”
“I left my donuts in the glass room,” Dezi said, already making his way toward the basement to get them.
He left Perish, moving from foot to foot.
“You’re here to water the fucking lawn, aren’t you?”
“It’s been hot. Put a lot of work into it. Don’t want it to dry up.”
“Don’t you have a woman at home you’d rather be with?”
“That I do. But—”
“How about I water the lawn?” I asked. “I’m not in a partying mood.”
Perish mulled that. “But don’t overwater it.”
“I won’t. I’ve done it before when you were laid up, remember?”
“True. Alright. You won’t forget?”
“I won’t forget.”
Dezi came running up the stairs, pausing to shoot us all a guilty look. “I’d offer you guys some, but there’s only six left.” Only. A snort of laughter escaped me, despite the woman and her gun still pressed to my chest.
“Enjoy your donuts, man,” I said as he made his way out the door. “I’ll do the lawn in… half an hour. Hour, max.”
Perish slid to the woman, then to me, a wicked smirk tugging at my lips. “Only an hour?”
With that, he was gone too.
I waited, still holding the wannabe shooter, until I heard the bikes rumble to life, then peel away.
Only then did I rip the gun out of her hand and tuck it into my own back waistband.
Without her weapon, she stumbled backward, eyes round, looking more than a little ashen.
“Alright, baby, you gonna tell me why you wanna kill me?”
I should have anticipated it. Really, I should have. And made moves to make it impossible.
But I didn’t.
One second, she was standing in front of me looking ready to pass out.
The next, she was turning and hauling ass out of the clubhouse.
I followed her to the door, but she was already sprinting toward the gates. She probably parked her car somewhere down the street.
Sure, Navesink Bank was a hotbed of criminal activity. But someone would take issue with me chasing a woman down the street, call the police, create a whole problem for me.
So I stayed right there in the doorway, watching as a set of lights flashed on somewhere down the road, then listened to the screech of tires as she peeled off.