The Trouble with Twelfth Grave (Charley Davidson #12)(65)
“That’s kind of the point.”
“They’ll never find my body. I’ll decompose and be all icky. And my ass. What’ll happen to my ass? I mean, have you seen it?”
He almost grinned, jerking me along with him as I slipped and stumbled. “It’s hard to miss in that dress.”
“Right? Cookie chose it. I can barely move.”
“I’m surprised you can breathe.”
I stumbled again, wrenched my arm free and tried to run. He easily caught me and steered me closer to the rock barrier.
“Cactus!” I yelled.
He swerved.
“Hey, did you really take out all of her men when they abducted you?”
“Yes.” He glared at me as though I were judging him. “I didn’t have a choice, Davidson. They lived. You know, in case you’re wondering if I’ve gone totally dark.”
“They may have lived, but will they ever walk again?”
“Two will,” he said with a shrug. “Eventually.”
“Who knew Davey Taft was such a badass?”
He flinched and shoved me forward. I pretended to fall, which was hard unless I actually fell. So I fell, then turned and pleaded with him. He grabbed my arm and manhandled me to my feet quite impressively.
“Your sister is looking for you,” I said, as we got closer and closer. “She can’t find you.”
“What? Why?”
“My guess? She doesn’t recognize you anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you are either very good at your job or you’ve really gone bad.”
“Good. She doesn’t need to see me like this.”
I nodded in understanding. “You know, I can tell her it’s all a show. She’ll understand.”
He shook his head, ashamed. But why? He was doing a bang-up job. I would totally have bought it.
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he enjoyed the role too much.
“I’ll tell her you’re fine. That you’ll be back soon.”
“That’ll work.”
“If all went as planned, Cookie recorded that whole thing. I’ll make sure Agent Carson gets a copy.”
“Okay, but first, run.”
I took off again, and a gunshot pierced the air with startling clarity. I fell forward as he stalked toward me.
“I shot you in the calf.”
“Oh, I’m not dead yet?” I asked, surprised.
He leaned closer to grab my arm again and took the opportunity to stuff my phone down the front of my dress. Then he recited a number, and said, “Send it there, too.”
I fought him as he hauled me to my feet. “Whose number is it?”
“Elena’s mother.”
I limped along as he steered me behind the barrier of rocks so no passersby would happen to see me from a vehicle, but not so far that Elena wouldn’t see the job finished. That way, she wouldn’t have anyone check later.
“Okay,” I said when we came to a stop. I fell to my knees in front of him and begged, getting the bizarre impression he was enjoying it. “I just need to know. Are you shooting me in my head? Because I’m not having the best hair day as it is.”
He slid a nine millimeter out of a shoulder holster inside his jacket.
“This is going to have to be close, hon.”
I couldn’t believe it. He felt bad for what he was about to do. Fake kill me to save my life and probably his, too.
Then again, maybe he wasn’t faking.
I narrowed my eyes in suspicion.
He grinned, aimed the gun, and said, “Say hello to my sister.”
When he pulled the trigger, I realized he could have meant that in a couple of ways.
The loud crack thundered against the rock wall. I jerked my head back and collapsed onto the uneven ground. My hair would never be the same.
He fired two more times into the dirt beside my head to make sure he’d finished the job. That time I concentrated on not reacting.
As he turned and walked off, I said softly, “Be careful, Taft.”
He holstered his gun and kept walking.
18
They say it’s what’s inside that counts.
I agree, but I’m keeping my hair appointment just in case.
—T-SHIRT
I waited a good ten minutes after they drove off just to make certain I wasn’t still being watched. It was a tough ten minutes. Half my face was in the dirt, being poked by all kinds of native plants. My hair covered the other half. And trying to breathe without looking like you were breathing was harder than I’d imagined. Playing dead sucked. Especially when things started crawling on me.
All that was bad enough, but when Artemis appeared, excited I was on the ground ready to play, the whole plan turned south. Thankfully she only attempted CPR once by taking a diving leap onto my sprawled body. I grunted and finally gave up the game. Mostly because a coyote had come sniffing, trying to decide if he could dig in or if he needed to wait a while longer.
I sat up, startling the ragged animal, and attempted to brush some of the dry desert dirt off. I scowled playfully at the gorgeous creature. “Not today, buddy.”
He ran off a short distance, then turned back to watch me. To calculate when his next meal would keel over for good.