Grace Anne - By Kathi S. Barton Page 0,48

his house after making a quick trip to his buddy’s. After scoring a few grams of some sweet stuff and hitting it with him Thomas was feeling pretty good. So good, in fact, that he didn’t care that his phone was ringing or that he was driving a little on the fast side. When he finally pulled into his drive he simply left the car running and went inside. Life was good.

The pounding on the door had him sitting up in bed. He didn’t know what time it was, but he was sure he’d only just lain down. He was nearly to the door when he saw the flashing lights. Stopping in the living room he tried to remember if he’d done anything wrong to warrant the police showing up at his house. Thinking hard, he started to go back to the bedroom and escape. He needed to leave, and right fucking now. Picking up his gun out of the dresser near his window Thomas opened the window and slipped out. He was nearly to the back of the lot when he saw the cop.

Fucking no way was he going in. He wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the gun in his hand going off, him or the cop, but the guy just sort of crumpled to the ground, his head suddenly a mess. Thomas had a few moments of pure glee that he’d gotten the drop on the guy when he realized he’d just killed a cop. Before he knew it he was running for his life and there were fucking cops everywhere.

Mother fuck.

~~~

Verrie watched the news lead story run again. The stupid cock sucker had killed a fucking cop. Not to mention the debutante that he’d killed earlier. What the hell he’d been thinking killing a girl on camera was…it didn’t bear thinking. She started to turn off the television when they showed the scene again. She smiled. He’d done a very good job of killing the girl; she was impressed. Not that they showed much. Some blurred pictures of the girl on the ground and the frantic interview with the butler at the home of Cunningham. Verrie wondered, not for the first time, if all men simply had a brain in their dicks and, every time they came, a little more of it leaked out. She swore that that was why there were so many old men in nursing homes. They’d fucked themselves stupid.

There was an all-points bulletin out for Thomas Cunningham. The FBI said that they were taking precautions. She couldn’t figure out what the hell they were doing in on it when the family of the dead bitch came on. The senator of New York. Well, when Thomas did something up, he certainly didn’t do it in half measures.

Killing a senator’s daughter was big news. And even bigger news was that she had only been seventeen when she’d been murdered. Verrie turned off the television and sat on the dirty couch. They were running out of time. The money had arrived yesterday, but Ginny had insisted that they try very hard not to spend it like they had done with what they’d brought with them. Verrie snorted. Like she gave a good fuck what she said. Reaching between the cushions she pulled out the stash that she knew Guinevere had stuffed there yesterday. Twenty grand would go a long way to having a good time. Smiling, she started for the door only to stop when Ginny started in on her.

“No,” she snapped. “I told you we have to lay low. And if you kill anyone right now, especially right now, we’re never going to see this thing to the end.”

“Like you care. All you want to do is fuck that boy, Cain. Well, he ain’t gonna have you. In case it escaped your notice, you are his mother as far as he’s concerned.” Verrie felt the pain from the other woman. “And on top of that, you’re old. Nobody that looks like him is gonna wanna fuck someone as old as you are.”

The pain in Verrie’s head was immense. But she didn’t move or so much as acknowledge it. She stood still while the blood trickled from her nose and ears.

“I fucking hate you. You’ve been a fucking pain in our ass since the first time you showed up. Why? Why do you have to be so cruel?”

Verrie started to answer, but she couldn’t speak until Ginny let her.

“I’m going to destroy you when