“Be good to her, Dusty. Please. It's gonna be hard enough on my girl.” The sheriff spun around shakily, looking for his booze. He started to amble up to get it, but his legs wouldn't work, and he fell back into his seat a second later.
“Not even a question, Jimmy. We'll keep her solid. Christ, look at you.” Prez stopped and ran a hand across his face, like he could hardly stand to look at the poor bastard. “You gotta sober up. This how you really want to say goodbye to her?”
The wiry cop squinted. Noticed his uniform was missing a few patches for the first time, which probably meant he was off the force. Maybe retired, judging by the wicked deep lines in his face.
“Fuck you. She'll remember all the better times before today. I raised my Cora right. That's all I ever tried to do, everything I promised Emmie the day she died...God! Was it really twelve years ago?” He shook his head, making his greasy hair flop around. “Twelve fucking years. And I'm about to join her.”
“Don't start with that shit. You're not going anywhere, Jimmy. Sobering up'll help you when the Feds come to clean you up. I hear the witness protection racket can do wonders these days, get you a whole new name and number. You leave pulling the strings to me. I'll do what I can to make sure you won't have to spend much time looking like an orange-fucking-creamsicle once you spill the beans...”
“No.” Jimmy sat up straight, reaching near his belt, struggling for something there. “I'm not going anywhere. I'm going out my way, Dusty. Didn't wanna tell you before...”
His hand came up clutching a gun. I shot up and drew my nine in a split second, all my instincts from the Army coming back like lightning.
“Freeze, fuckin' asshole!” I roared.
“Put it down!” Dust barked, grabbing my arm, wide eyed and crazy. “He doesn't mean any arm. He's...”
The Prez was at a loss for words. He reached out slowly and took the gun from Jimmy without a fight. The two men shared a look across time and space that had me truly fucking baffled.
Nothing about this shit made sense.
Goddammit. Orders were orders, weren't they? Fighting the urge to put a bullet between the drunkard's head before he did the same shit to us, I let my arm fall.
I stuffed my gun back into its holster and sat down, growing madder by the minute at the vicious mystery killing us here.
What the fuck was going on? Seriously?
“Hey, never said you could keep it!” Jimmy snarled, reaching across the table. The edge caught him in the guts and he started coughing, toppling over and hacking up a fucking lung.
“You'll get this back when you tell me exactly what you're planning. I'm not letting you die by your own fucking bullet, buddy. We've come too damned far for that.”
“Godddamnit, Dusty, you're a bastard to the end.” He slumped in his chair, pounding his chest, giving us both a look that made me damned glad the Prez was holding that gun. “Already said – I'm going out my way. I'm a dead man no matter what I do, Dusty. You fucking know it. You think a skinny ass sheriff like me will last a month before getting gutted in the pen? I can't wait for you and the club pulling any strings. I'm screwed, blued, and tattooed.”
“All that booze's going to your head, old man. Doesn't have to go down like this.” Dust paused before he lobbed the next grenade. “It's gonna be hell on your Cora as it is. You really want me to tell her that her old man died a coward? Offed himself like a fuckin' lemming?”
“Asshole!” Jimmy shot up, tried to punch the Prez.#p#分页标题#e#
I was on my feet in a second, ready to grab him, but the Cap'n motioned me. No. Let it ride.
So, I did, and watched him fall face first into the table. He lifted himself up slowly, red faced and blubbering like a baby.
Fucking pathetic. Hell, right up there with the most pathetic sights I'd ever burned my eyes on.
I wanted to spit in this fucker's face, and then shake the Prez stupid for dragging my ass out here when I could've been back in bed, balls deep in blonde pussy.
“This is my choice, Dusty. Mine.” Jimmy bared his chipped teeth. “You take care of my little girl and leave me fucking be. I'm a dead man anyway with a Torches' hit on my back. I can wait for them to flay my skin off, maybe set me on fire, or I can go out my way. Easy.”
What the fuck? My eyes bugged the hell outta their sockets.
The Atlanta Torches were our allies, but only because Prez's old man had given us a shotgun wedding with 'em when things started heating up with the Deadhands MC.
We both hated the Deads, and that was good enough. Dust looked at me while he reached out to Jimmy, and threw him back in his seat so hard I thought he'd push the drunk to the floor.