Dying for Rain (The Rain Trilog - BB Easton Page 0,49
not quite as bad as I let on. See, I might not be able to use Mac’s guilt or his vanity or even his sense of justice to get what I want, but he’s got something even easier to exploit.
Pride.
Good thing I got that shit beat out of me by the eighth grade.
Leaving myself open to a few blows that feel like sledgehammers, I let Mac think he has the upper hand. I can almost see his ego swell as he lands a solid right cross to the cheekbone of the punk twenty-two-year-old who dared to take on the legendary Officer MacArthur. And I can almost hear it shatter into a million pieces when he rears back to clock me again and feels a solid steel cuff click into place around his wrist.
Scurrying backward out of the shower on my elbows, I watch as Mac’s eyes go wide in horror. He sits up on his haunches and thrashes in place as he realizes that I’ve handcuffed him to the shower pipe.
I reach the gun across the room just as he reaches for his taser, but when he holds it up, it’s dripping wet and completely worthless.
The look on his face as he drops the taser and raises his hands in the air is something I’ll never forget as long as I live. I’ve seen it on TV a few times now but never in person. Never staring down the barrel of my own gun.
It’s the look of a man who knows he’s about to die.
His nose is gushing blood, which the shower dilutes into a pink stream that courses over his swollen mouth and down his neck. His chest is heaving even harder than mine, but his hands aren’t shaking nearly as bad.
“You fought well, son.” He spits through the bloody water.
“So did you, old man.” I close one eye and aim for his forehead. “Between the eyes, right? That’s your style?”
He nods without remorse. “Instant kill.”
His words send a shiver down my wet, bruised spine as I tighten my finger around the trigger.
But I’m not like Mac.
I’m not a cold-blooded killer.
Which is exactly why the fuck I need him.
Rain
“You got it uploaded and everything?” I whisper as Flip closes his laptop.
“Uploaded. Broadcasted. It’s done.” He looks over at me, the blue digital glow from the servers illuminating his tired face.
“Oh my God.” I cover my mouth with my hoodie sleeves.
“And you got all the images in there without them being too obvious?” Michelle asks, rubbing her exposed arms to stay warm. They must keep the air-conditioning on full blast in here to cool off all the equipment.
“Yes, ma’am.” Flip stands up and stretches. “Folks are gonna have some real wild dreams tonight.”
I launch myself at him and wrap my arms around his middle. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You have no idea …” I ramble as Flip awkwardly pats me on the back.
“I hope it works, hon. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get the hell outta here before nightfall.”
Michelle stands up and smooths her hands over her black pencil skirt, which I can see now is actually a little loose on her. She’s probably lost weight since she bought it from all the stress.
I let go of Flip and attack her with my gratitude next.
Hugging me right back, Michelle says, “You gonna be okay tonight? If you need a place to stay …”
“I’ll be all right. I wanna stay nearby in case something happens.”
What I mean is, I’m going to spend the night locked in the trunk of a car outside the police station, praying that my boyfriend escapes before they execute him.
I look over at the Jones brothers, who are sitting against a shelving unit full of servers on the other side of the room. Their eyes are closed, and their heads are propped against one another’s.
“Y’all go ahead,” I say, nodding toward my sleeping friends. “I seriously can’t thank you enough.”
“You sure?” Michelle asks, holding me at arm’s length.
I nod. “I’m sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Those words remind me of the last person I said that to just a few hours ago. The place where my heart used to be aches in response.
“Yes, you will.” She smiles, but it looks all wrong on her.
As Michelle and Flip tiptoe out of the capitol’s server room, I walk over to Quint and gently shake his shoulder.
“Wake up, guys. It’s done. Time to go.”
“Hmm?” Quint smacks his lips without opening his eyes.