All the Inside Howling (Hollow Folk #2)(54)

“He’s not your bodyguard.”

For a moment, Lawayne said nothing. Then he laughed and squeezed my shoulder. “Honest to God, Vie, every time I think you’re all out of surprises.” The gun, however, didn’t leave my neck.

“Who is he?”

“Don’t worry about Sally. He’s not going to be trouble for you.”

“He beat the shit out of me. That’s trouble.”

Lawayne sounded amused. “You going to pay him back?”

“Who is he?”

“He’s a nasty piece of muscle from the east coast. He’s about ten percent human, and I’d say the rest was ape, but I like apes too much.”

“He’s not your bodyguard. He doesn’t work for you. So he’s . . . he’s watching you. He’s keeping tabs on you.”

“Go on, smart boy. Look at you.”

More of the pieces started to settle into place. “And you don’t want him to know how much the gun means to you. That’s why you’ve been taking it easy on me. That’s why you’ve been playing this so nice.”

“I’ve been playing it nice because I like you.”

“Cut the crap, Lawayne.”

The amusement had returned to his voice. “I’ve got a gun to your motherfucking head, and you’ve still got the biggest balls on any teenager in three counties. Geez, kid, I’m going to be really sorry if I have to shoot you in the knee cap, if I have to break your fingers, if I have to start cutting your pretty face. That Miller boy, sweet hell, he won’t want to look at you when I’m done. So don’t make me do any of that. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“What is it?”

“What?”

“The gun. Why does it matter so much?”

His hand tightened on my shoulder, and he shoved me forward a step. “All right, let’s go inside. I guess we’re doing this the hard way.”

My heart raced at hummingbird speed, but I managed to keep my voice steady. “I’m not saying I won’t give it to you, but I want to know. Who’d you kill with it?”

Lawayne gave me another shove. His hand on my shoulder clutched me like a vise, and the barrel of the gun never left my neck. “Nobody. Believe it or not, that gun’s not a cover-up, kid. That gun is life insurance. Maybe a ticket out of here.”

Digging in my heels, I slowly—very slowly—peeled Lawayne’s hand from my shoulder and turned to face him. I found myself eye-to-eye with the muzzle of his pistol, and my heart gave another tremendous burst.

“Jesus, kid. I don’t want to shoot you in the face.”

“Tell me. Tell me so I can at least make an informed decision.”

“An informed decision? You’re about to get your brain aerated and you want to make an informed-fucking-decision.” A smile crossed his broad face. Lawayne Karkkanew, everybody’s buddy. But his eyes never changed. Those eyes said he would put a bullet or ten in me and smile the whole time.

“Right now.”

He considered this, and then he smiled again and patted my cheek. Not hard, not exactly, but enough to sting. Enough that it wasn’t entirely friendly.

“It’s the Feds. They want something on the Biondi family. You heard of them?”

I shook my head.

“Jesus, can we at least get out of the cold if I’m going to tell you a bedtime story?”

“You won’t shoot me? Not until I hear it all?”

“Kid, I’ll shoot you whenever I fucking please. Let’s go inside.”

That sounded like the best deal I was going to get, so I let Lawayne herd me toward the back door of Sage and Sarsaparilla. As we crossed asphalt, a car rumbled to life, and halogen lights splashed against the next building. I jumped, and Lawayne’s hand gripped my shoulder again.

“Easy,” he said with that laugh like you were shooting pool in his basement and had scratched the felt. No big deal, that laugh said. Nothing’s a big deal. But his fingers were like iron. “That’s just my ride.”

“That blond girl?” I asked, trying to glimpse the driver through the glare of the headlights.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s the real deal, a local girl.”

“From Vehpese?”

“From Burlington. Now quit trying to stall, you little fucker.” He shoved me through the doorway.

In the white-tiled kitchen, filled with enormous double-sinks and stainless steel appliances and the smell of coffee, Lawayne sat on a stool and motioned towards the fridge. “I got a share in this place, but under the table. Good place to meet if you don’t want someone checking up. You want something to drink?”

I shook my head.

“You’ve been drinking already.”

“A party.”

He laughed, although I wasn’t sure why. The pistol dropped to rest on a stainless steel work table, and he spread his legs and leaned back on the stool. “Can I ask you something?”

I shrugged. “You’ve got the gun.”

“Yes, I do, kid. I sure as hell do. So what’s with you and the Bradley brat?”

“Emmett?”

“Yeah. He’s your fuck-buddy? I mean, the whole town’s up in arms about you and the Miller boy, but after all that shit with Tony, that day I gave you a ride—”