The Fear That Divides Us (The Devil's Dust #3)(5)

“That’s the husband,” Bull informs. “Make sure you get the right one. Jessica said he has a brother who looks similar, but he’s been MIA for the last month.”

I study the photo. The guy has light-colored hair that is short, a little longer at the bangs. His eyes are blue, so light they look gray, and they hold a menacing edge to them. His cheeks are high and his jaw curves down to a point, his bright white smile blinding. He looks like one of the villains off a movie. My fingers curl around the photo, the urge to mangle him unbearable.

“Take him out, now,” Bull demands, his tone threatening as he slams the gavel down.

***

11 Hours Later

“This car smells,” I sniff, looking around at the fast-food bags, and empty cups littering the floorboard.

“If you didn’t have to stop every three hours to eat, it wouldn’t smell like a dumpster,” Shadow says flatly, staring out the windshield. I scoff; we only stopped twice.

“When was he supposed to be off work again?” I search the trash in the floorboard for the photograph Bull gave us to ID the husband.

Shadow looks at the digital clock on the dash. “Anytime now.”

I stare up at the hospital. It’s tall and white, with windows lining every floor. Jessica told Bull this hospital would be the best place to get to the husband, because their house would be loaded with security.

The sounds of a high-pitched squeal grab my attention. I look out the window to a guy twirling a dark-haired woman in pink scrubs, right in front of the hospital doors. He sets the skinny brunette on her feet, and gives her ass a hard slap making her laugh loudly. He shakes his head and walks toward the brightly lit parking lot as she heads inside the hospital. The streetlights cast a bright light across him as he passes us, but he seems oblivious anyone is in here. He looks up at the streetlight as he passes, making the glow illuminate his features. His hair is lightly colored, matching the guy’s in the photograph. His face is sharp, menacing, and vicious. He turns to look down the street, his eyes catching mine. I inhale sharply, my heart beating against my chest with vengeance.

“That’s him,” I say softly.

“Are you sure?” Shadow asks, grabbing the photo from my hand, his eyes squinting as he takes in the photo.

“I can’t tell. It’s too dark to get a clear identification,” Shadow says, flicking the photograph with his finger.

A dark-colored Corvette tears out of the parking lot, catching Shadow’s attention from the photo.

“What kind of car did Bull say he would be driving?” I ask, my eyes following the sports car out of the drive.

“Black Corvette, is what Jessica told him,” Shadow says, sighing.

Shadow has a knack for this kind of thing, hunting people down and taking them out for the club. I have been with him on a couple of these outings. He takes in everything, analyzes every scenario possible; he’s very thorough. I have seen him take days to gather information on a hit before going in. We don’t have days. This guy is going to notice his wife and daughter missing, and is going to have a search party after her quickly. I start the SUV and slam it into gear.

“What the f*ck are you doing, Bobby?” Shadow asks, his tone loud and angry.

“Taking him out.” I press my foot on the accelerator to catch up to the Corvette, leaving the hospital parking lot.

“You don’t know if that’s him. You can’t do this half ass!” Shadow yells, trying to grab the wheel.

“It’s him! He is identical to the photo and drives the same colored car, Shadow. We don’t have time for your ten-step program on how to kill a mark,” I explain as we catch up to the speeding car.

“Fuck you, Bobby. My work isn’t sloppy, and this is sloppy,” Shadow insults, his finger pointing downward. I take my eyes off the road and lift my brow at Shadow’s tone; he’s pissing me off.

“I’m not doing a job like this, so you might as well turn this car around,” Shadow informs. Angry, I pound my fist at the steering wheel. The rubber laced around it cuts into my knuckles. When we do a job like this, Shadow is the one who gets his hands dirty. Delivering the final blow to take the target out. He knows killing isn’t my thing. That final look in someone’s eyes before you take their life causes me to hesitate. This guy I’m following though, I don’t feel that hesitation. All I see is that little girl’s red cheek and the blood smeared across Jessica’s face. I grit my teeth and slam my foot on the accelerator again.

“Who says you’re taking this dirt bag out?” I question hastily.

“What are you doing, Bobby?” Shadow asks, shaking his head at me.

We round a sharp corner, our car feet away from the Corvette’s bumper. I press my foot on the gas to urge us forward.

“Bobby,” Shadow cautions, throwing me a look of concern, as our car inches near the bumper.

“Hold on,” I warn, taking a large breath, and push the pedal to the metal.

Our SUV rears forward, barely clipping the side of the Corvette. Our vehicle swerves as the Corvette veers off the road and crashes into a tree.

I wrestle the steering wheel, trying to gain control, the tires screeching as we turn in a complete circle before coming to a stop.

I look over at Shadow, both of us breathing with excitement.

“You’re f*cking crazy,” Shadow says out of breath.