Rules of Survival(59)

Deeds rolled his eyes but held his ground, planting himself between Patrick and us. “Pat. Long time no see.”

Patrick pulled his jacket away from his waist. A silver flash in the morning sun caught my attention. A gun. “Mind handing over my kid and my mark?” he repeated.

Deeds chuckled, but he took a step back. “Gonna shoot me, Pat?”

“Not like anyone would miss you,” Shaun said, attempting to push past.

“He don’t have the balls,” Deeds countered, putting his arm out to block Shaun’s path. But I could hear it in his voice. He was worried maybe Pat did have the balls.

“I’m willing to put that theory to the test,” Patrick said, voice dangerous. He had one hand on the gun, ready to draw, and the other resting against the frame. “Are you? One last time. My kid and my mark. Now.”

As it turned out, Deeds wasn’t willing to put it to the test. He shoved Shaun and I outside, dropped the gun and kicked it across the threshold, and slammed the door closed behind us.

Patrick glared down at us for a minute before lifting the shackle chain and eyeing Shaun. “What possessed you to run all the way out here? We talked about this! She’s like dynamite looking for a place to explode and you chained yourself to her? What the hell were you thinking?”

But Shaun didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “I think we’re the ones who should be asking questions right now, Pat.”

…

We drove for two hours and stopped at a local dive. A diner called Pete’s. If I hadn’t been about ready to chew my own fingers off as an appetizer, then start on my toes, I would have been grossed out by the grease-stained walls and food-caked menus. The smell wasn’t any better, either. It was like someone was in the kitchen singeing hair.

“This is surreal,” I said, trying to get comfortable. The seat was wobbly and kept detaching from the bench. If I moved the wrong way, I’d topple over.

“What is?” Shaun asked as the waitress set down our drinks. Coffee for Patrick—even though he looked like he needed something a bit stronger—Coke for Shaun, and hot tea for me. Mom hated coffee. I’d kind of inherited her opinion. I was trying not to gag as the smell from Patrick’s cup wafted across.

I inclined my head toward Patrick, who was seated across from me. “I spent my whole life running from him. Now we’re sitting down to tea?”

Patrick made a disgusted face. “Keep your tea, kid. Stuff always made me sick.” With a sigh, he gestured between us and said, “And I don’t like this any more than you do.”

“So let me go and everyone will be happy,” I tried. Hey. Couldn’t hurt, right?

He let out a loud snort. Several people at surrounding tables glanced our way. “Ya got a better chance of seeing pigs run Wall Street.”

All I could do was stare. “After everything that’s happened—you’re still going to turn me in?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So, you’re going to let me go?”

“I didn’t say that, either.”

God. He was confusing! “You’re kind of a tool, you know that?”

He bent forward, the corner of his upper lip curling downward. “And you’re kind of a brat.”

“Name-calling?” I said. “Really? That’s where we’re taking this?”

Patrick sat back and shrugged. “You started it.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be, like, an adult?”

“You were already driving when I called last night,” Shaun jumped in, taking my hand. He gave it a slight squeeze.

Patrick hesitated a moment before leaning across the table and snatching Shaun’s leather jacket from the seat. Grabbing a handful of the lining by the lapel, he yanked down hard. The lining ripped.

Shaun paled. “What the f*ck?”

Patrick ignored him and crammed his hand into the opening. A moment later, he pulled out a small round chip. “I couldn’t trust you not to go getting yourself in trouble. I’ve had you tagged for years, kid.” He set the chip on the table. “Turns out it was a good idea.”

Shaun looked horrified. He picked up the chip and turned it over in his fingers several times before setting it back down on the table with a snap. “You LoJacked my leather?”

“Get over it,” I said, turning to Patrick. Shaun couldn’t possibly be upset. The damn thing had saved our lives. “Bigger issues right now.” There were a lot of questions that needed to be answered—but first thing was first. I held up our shackled hands. “Keys?”

Patrick shook his head. “Not on me. I have them at my hotel, though.”

Fantastic. I would have been convinced he’d done it on purpose—payback for all the crap Mom and I had put him through over the years—if I wasn’t so sure he wanted Shaun nowhere near me. After all, I was dynamite looking for a place to explode, right? He was worried I’d take Shaun right along with me. I wasn’t ready to admit it, but I was worried about that, too.

“The Oak Ridge Mall,” I said, moving on. I didn’t know how much time we had. For all I knew, Patrick had called the cops. The real ones. “We told you to meet us there, but fake FBI showed up instead. You told Jaffe where we were, didn’t you?”