Up in Flames(57)

“You OK, Nan?” I called out, keeping my eyes locked on Franco as I approached him.

“Yes,” she replied, sounding more than frantic. “What are you doing?”

“Trying not to kill this bastard until they come get him,” I replied calmly. Franco stared up at me with a mix of pain and hatred in his eyes. “But I’ll kill him if he fucks with me,” I finished.

“Who is coming to get him? The police? He’s a drug lord, Major. A very, very dangerous one. You don’t know what you’ve just walked into.”

So she did know. Interesting. Nan had known about Franco, yet she’d fooled both Cope and me. Had to hand it to her, she was good at covering. I’d never have guessed she had any idea who Franco actually was.

“You fooled us, Nan. Kudos,” I said in all honesty. “Now, get your phone and call Cope, sweetheart. Tell him exactly what just happened.”

“Who?” she asked, frowning, and I realized my mistake.

“My bad. Gannon. Call Gannon,” I replied. “He still has the phone you have the number to. I’d bet my left nut on it.”

Nan didn’t move. I could feel her staring at me, and I wondered why she didn’t already know all this. I had left her the damn note. Why was she so confused?

“The cameras, Nan. The note I left you. About Cope. I mean Gannon. Shit, Nan, just call him. If this bastard moves, I’m gonna have to shoot him again, and I’d rather he not bleed out until Cope gets here.”

Franco moved slightly, and I aimed at his knee and shot, just because I wanted to hear him scream. Nan screamed with him. The distance between Nan’s house and her neighbors would mask the gunshots, thanks to the sounds of the Gulf, but I wasn’t sure for how long. Eventually, someone was going to hear the commotion.

Nan jumped up and ran to get her phone—I hoped. If she called the police, this was going to be harder to explain. Cope would be pissed, too. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my own phone. I’d better handle it. Every number I had for any of them was now disconnected. Except, of course, Captain’s. I had a feeling Captain was the only reason they’d let me live. When I hadn’t gone to Mexico and no one came after me, I knew it was all thanks to Captain.

“Yeah,” Captain said on the other end of the line.

“I’ve got Franco bleeding out at my feet on Nan’s front doorsteps. Let Cope know,” I said, then disconnected the call and slipped my phone back into my pocket. Looking back down at Franco, I smiled. “Cope’s the man who will eventually kill you. I’m just the welcoming committee. He’s a crazy-ass son of a bitch. Can’t say I like him much, but I like him more than I like your sorry ass.”

Franco moved, lightly moaning, and I made a tsking sound.

“Unless you want me to shoot your other knee, I’d hold the fuck still. After that, I’m blowing your balls off, and that’s where I should have started, you sick fuck. Messing with kids.”

“He didn’t answer,” Nan said, standing at the door with her phone in her hand, looking terrified and as pale as a ghost.

“It’s OK, I called. You go inside and drink some juice or something. This will be over soon enough.”

“I called Rush.” She sounded as if she regretted it already. Like a child telling on herself.

Shit. Rush didn’t need to be in on this. “Fine. I’ll handle him when he gets here. Go inside away from this, and stay safe. You’ll have to answer questions when Cope gets here. The surveillance and all, remember?”

She frowned at me, still looking confused and terrified. “What surveillance?” she asked.

Sighing, I lifted my gaze from Franco again, and this time, I frowned at her. “The note I wrote to you and put on your counter explaining everything before I left town. Warning you about the cameras and Gannon and shit.”

She continued to frown. “Huh?”

Franco moved, and I finally got to shoot him in the balls. His scream made me laugh. “Guess you won’t try to move again,” I quipped, highly amused.





Nan


Too much didn’t make sense. But I’d pinched myself about five times, trying to wake up, and I finally accepted that I was completely awake. Major had just shot Franco several times on my front porch. Major knew Gannon, but he called him Cope. And there was surveillance somewhere here? I was so confused.

I was also about to get sick again. Running to the nearest toilet, I regretted having called Rush. He didn’t need to be mixed up in this. This was my mistake, not his, and Major had a gun. As had Franco, until Major shot it out of his hand. Hitting my already bruised knees, I winced and then held my hair as I began dry-heaving into the toilet.