Assassination

Lily woke Ace up. “Umpf,” he said. “What?”

“My brother texted me,” said Lily.

“What does he want?” Ace rubbed his eyes, realizing he wasn’t getting more sleep.

“He’s been sober. Apparently, somewhere with the Northern Paiutes.”

“They’re all over northern California, northern Nevada, Idaho, and Oregon. Good place to get him out of the way.”

Her brother Devlin, two years younger, had gotten into alcohol and drugs. He’d stolen drugs from Big Mike and Leticia, the heads of a drug-running gang called The Deuces. Ace had insinuated to Leticia that Devlin was dead; it would not be a good idea for him to come back to Vegas. Ace had gotten Devlin into a spin-dry facility to get him sober, and then Henry had arranged to take him someplace far away.

“He wants to make amends,” said Lily. “He may be an idiot, but I love him, and I have to hear him out.”

Ace sighed. “Even if he’s using again?”

“If he were using again, he’d be looking for money and giving me some sob story.”

“Good point,” said Ace. “When and where?”

“He’s near Tonopah at a rest stop.” Tonopah was a small town halfway between Las Vegas and Reno.

Sighing, Ace sat up and reached for his jeans that were on the back of a chair. “I’ll text Ivy. She’ll have to do my job.”

Ivy texted back that she would close the bar and come with them. They dressed quickly and were soon on the road.

They met at a pancake house and had apple pancakes, bacon, and orange juice.

“You alright?” asked Ivy.

“Not really,” said Lily. “If he’s sober, that’s the best I can hope for.”

They made good time. The bus stop wasn’t busy, a few trucks off in the distance. Ivy went for water from a machine while they met Devlin.

Devlin looked rugged, tough, with actual muscles. He wore a cowboy hat, a faded blue shirt, and torn jeans.

“May I hug you?” he asked, in a gravelly voice. Lily didn’t answer; she just hugged him.

Lily held him, then let him go and stepped back. “Looking better, brother.”

“Been working on fences, found out more about cows than I wanted to,” he said. “Not a life I would have chosen for myself, but it’s good.”

“How you getting back?” asked Ace.

“I’ll call. Guy who brought me is meeting family.”

“Good,” said Ace. “I know you want to talk to my wife. I’ll get us some sodas.”

“I heard you were married,” said Devlin. “That’s cool. You deserve to get treated better than how Dad and I treated you.”

“What is your… program, I guess,” asked Lily.

“Narcotics Anonymous,” said Devlin. “And the other one too.”

No one saw where the shots came from. Ace went down first, throwing himself across Lily. Devlin fell away from them, his body jerking, a look of shock on his face. Lily tried to scream, but her breath was crushed by Ace’s body on hers.

Ivy came running. “Ace!” she screamed. She kept her head down, but no more shots were fired. There was a squeal of tires.

Ivy dialed 9-1-1 and started yelling into the phone about rest stops and mile markers and shooting. Lily ran her hands over her husband’s body, feeling blood pulsing through her fingers.

“Baby,” said Ace. “You shot?”

“Don’t think so,” she said, trying to put pressure on the wound with one hand and get her shirt off over her head with the other.

“Ivy,” she said, “Get him off me. I’ve got to get to…” She looked behind her, swiveling her head about. Devlin was sprawled on the ground, head out. “Devlin!” Lily screamed.

Ivy pulled Ace off, taking off her own shirt and rolling it up, pressing it into his shoulder. She used a finger to speed dial and called out the mile marker to Henry. He said someone would be there fast.

A guy in a pickup drove up. A second guy hopped out the other side.

“We can get you to the hospital faster,” said the driver, a brown-haired, skinny guy covered with tattoos. “Jasper, the ambulance driver ‘round here, is clear on the other side of the city.”

Ivy and the men grabbed Ace and hauled him to the truck. Lily finally was able to turn her head and shoulders to see her brother. She started crawling for him, then she saw his empty eyes staring at the sky. She hauled herself up, and stumbled toward the truck, toward the one she loved that was still alive. She didn’t bother trying to get into the cab. She climbed into the bed of the truck, shaking uncontrollably. The door closed, and Lily grabbed the side and held on.

They were in the hospital driveway before Lily was able to stop shaking. The doctors came out with a gurney. They took one look at Lily, covered with blood, and a big guy in scrubs the size of a house picked her up and put her in a wheelchair.

“Where are you hit?” he asked.

“I’m not, I don’t think,” said Lily. “Someone shot my husband.”

“Who?” asked the guy.

Ivy slid out of the truck after the shorter friend of the tall guy. “A dead person walking,” she said.

“Take your next steps in life; move forward or get run over.”