Chapter Ten
Jess
The party is merry. The mobsters and their families talk jovially while the waiters keep the alcohol flowing, and fill the table with mountains of food. The world is spinning around me, but I’m still.
I feel like a zombie. I nibble on a piece of arugula to make it look like I’m eating. And Monty, that red-faced, drunken asshole, is having the time of his life. People fawn all over him, catering to his every whim, and he laps it up greedily. He should be writhing on the ground, foaming at the mouth by now.
I take sip of water, biting back the taste of champagne on my tongue. It was a moment of weakness. I thought my plan was finally coming to fruition, but I’d celebrated prematurely.
Snake is uncharacteristically quiet beside me. That can’t be good. What does he know? Or maybe he’s just pissed that I blew him off earlier. Still, I can’t be sure. I glance around the table, guessing at the amount of guns and ammo that’s currently in this room. If any of these guys knew what I tried to pull off, they’d shower me with bullets. That would be all well and good if the plan had actually worked.
We finish dinner, followed by cake, and the party starts to die down. I stick with Snake, quiet and out of sight, but close by, as he says his goodbyes. I don’t know why, but I feel better when I’m close to him, safer, like he would protect me. I realize this is a fallacy of course. He’s one of them.
When we get in the car, Snake’s still quiet. I try to avoid looking at him, but I can feel his energy, stiff and bitter. It practically fills the silent car. His ego is bruised, I tell myself. He’s finally realized it’s not going to happen between us.
Or, he saw what I did.
I puzzle over what could’ve happened. Someone got rid of the tequila, which means they saw what I did. I press my fingernails into my palm, silently cursing myself. I hadn’t planned on killing Monty tonight, though I hadn’t ruled it out either. The party just seemed like the perfect cover, with lots of people coming and going. I’d been sure no one had seen me poison the tequila. Still, I was too rash. I should’ve planned better. But I was seduced by the idea that this could all be over tonight, and I wouldn’t have to get in any deeper with the mob.
Was it Snake? I look at him discreetly. Anyone else would’ve killed me immediately.
I turn my attention back to the road when Snake pulls into a gas station. It looks like it’s closed. It’s dark here, and no one’s around. I wonder if it’s even open for business in the first place. My heart starts to pound.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I need gas.”
I glimpse at the gas needle before Snake cuts the car off. The tank is three-quarters full. Snake gets out of the car. I watch through the windshield, terrified as he crosses over to my side. Instinctively, I try to open the car door, but it’s locked. Snake opens the door, and bends down over me. I’ve never seen his face like this. It’s cold, and creepily professional. In an instant, I understand what’s happening. Snake saw me. He couldn’t say or do anything at the party because he didn’t want to implicate himself. He’s going to kill me now, nice and quiet.
“Get out. Stretch your legs.” Snake’s voice is commanding. It reverberates deep inside of my belly.
I’m so terrified, I can’t speak. My limbs are stiff like petrified wood. All I can do is shake my head.
“Get out,” Snake snarls through his teeth.
I blink up at him, unmoving. Snake laughs, a chilling, cutting sound. Then, his arm darts into to the car. I feel his steel like grip around my upper arm, so tight I’m sure it will leave a bruise. He yanks me out, then spins me around, presses me against the car, and pins my hands to roof.
“Who are you?” he says, hot against my ear.
I’m trembling badly. My legs are turning to jello beneath me. I have to rely on Snake’s body pressed against me to stay upright. I can’t think of anything better than to play dumb.
“Snake, what are you doing?” The terror in my voice is real, making it even more authentic. “You know who I am.”
I try to turn around, but he pushes against my upper back, slamming me back into the car.
“Don’t move,” he warns.
I rest my forehead against the car. My hurried breaths are amplified against the metal exterior. They echo in my head. I can barely think straight. Snake sticks his hand down my skirt, takes out my revolver and shoves it in his pocket. He lays his hands on me, broad and intrusive, as he pats down my arms, my waist, and up each of my legs. His hands are icy when he reaches my inner thigh, intensifying my trembling.
Snake grabs a hold of my hair, pulling my head back to talk directly into my ear.
“Who sent you?”
“No one sent me,” I say, desperately. “What’s this about?”
I feel Snake smile. “You know what it’s about, Jess.”
He pushes me back inside the car, then slams the door shut. He gets back into the driver’s seat, and peels out of the parking lot. He’s driving fast, like a madman. I grip the seat as we speed onto a highway, hurtling out of the city towards the west. Where’s he taking me? Snake drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other under his chin and his elbow against the window. He’s completely closed off from me. I start to miss the chauvinistic, over confident asshole that picked me up tonight. Maybe he’s still in there.
“I don’t know what your thinking,” I say in a timid voice. “But you’re wrong.”
Snake ignores me, which pisses me off. What right does he have to take me against my will like this?
“Take me home,” I say, anger rising my voice. “Stop the car. Let me out.” Snake doesn’t react, so I keep trying. “This is kidnapping.”
Snake turns to me slowly, and smirks. With one hand, he unbuttons his jacket, and pulls it to the side, showing me the gun strapped to his hip. He lets his hand rest on the handle.
“Stay quiet,” he threatens.
Time moves in a blur. The lights of the city diminish, and eventually disappear behind us. The road flattens out before us, long and straight. There’s nothing out here, save the occasional farm. As night deepens, the stars brighten, weaving a glittering web of constellations. I pick out the big dipper.
I’m going to die. And I didn’t even get to kill Monty.
This is what they did to Jake. They drove him out to the remote desert and shot him dead. When I first learned of Jake’s death, I had no idea what he was doing out here, so far away. Once I made the connection to the Mariano’s, it all made sense. They must have tricked him into getting in the car with them, or kidnapped him. What was he thinking on that long drive? Did he feel something similar to the eerily calm certainty that I feel now?
Snake pulls over to the side of the road, and cuts the engine. This time, I don’t even try to open my door. I let him open it for me. Snake pulls out his gun and trains it on me.
“Get out,” he says.
I cautiously do what he says.
“Walk.” Snake grunts, directing me towards the endless desert.
He walks behind me, the gun on me, while I struggle through the dry, sandy ground in my pointy heels. Low-lying brush grazes against my ankles, making me think of snakes and scorpions. But the wildlife here is the least of my worries.
In the crisp, dry air, my head starts to clear, even with the gunman at my back. I could accept my death is imminent if I didn’t have unfinished business. Shit, I don’t have anything to live for, haven’t for a long time, and I always knew killing Monty would result in my demise. But I can’t go to my grave knowing that that evil son of bitch, after all he took from me, is walking free and drinking expensive tequila.
And Snake still needs something from me.
“Stop,” Snake says.
We walked so far out, I can’t see the car, or the road, anymore. I turn around cautiously. Snake is still pointing the gun straight at me, but he’s not the calculated business man from the car. His eyes are dark, intense, but he seems a little distressed. I take a sharp breath as he poises his finger over the trigger.
“Why, Jess?’ Snake asks. “Why poison Monty? What do you have to gain from that?”
I hold my hands up, showing him my palms. Denying it won’t get me anywhere, so I decide to level with him.
“Revenge,” I say, curtly. “A vendetta. Isn’t that a mafia thing? Monty destroyed my life.”
“And how did he do that?” Snake says, cockily.
“He killed someone close to me, and covered it up.”
Snake smirks. “All in a day’s work.”
Fucking dickhead, I think, clenching my teeth. “The credit card numbers are real,” I say, jumping to the only leverage I have. “The plan will work.”
Snake lowers the gun, only slightly. “What makes you think I’d ever trust you again?” He raises the gun, then approaches me quickly. “On your knees.” He grabs my arm, wrestling me down to the ground. A big, black scorpion scurries away as my knees sink into the soft earth.
“You can trust me, because I don’t want you to kill me,” I say. “They’re real, Snake. You know they are. I imagine you tested a few, didn’t you?”
Snake towers over me, lining up the sights of his gun so he’s aiming directly at my forehead.
“Where are the rest?” he asks. “Where are the thirty million?”
I swallow. “I’ll show you.”
Snake steps forward, pressing the barrel against my forehead. The metal is cold and hard. I clench my eyes shut, waiting for the bullet to crash through my skull. This is it. It’s all over. At least there will be no more pain, grief, or misery where I’m going. I’ll sink down into the dry earth and go to sleep.
Suddenly, the cold sensation at my forehead is gone. I open my eyes tentatively to see that Snake has replaced the gun in his holster. He hooks his hand under my arm, and roughly yanks me to my feet. I slam against his torso, feeling the gun at his side.
“You will show me,” Snake says. “And after that, our business is done.” He pushes me away, in the direction of the car. “Now, walk.”