She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,155

business, I took something else away from that conversation. It’s extremely difficult for the law to charge you with the purchase, possession, or sale of information. I knew at that point, at the ripe old age of sixteen, information was the future. I knew if I ever had the opportunity to run this business, I would shift the focus, find a way to deal in this unique commodity above all others.”

“If you know where she is, just name your price. I’ve got it. I can have cash to you within an hour.”

“I heard about your good fortune. Gave me another reason to like that woman. Your aunt wasn’t just tough, she was smart to set you up like that.” Dunk picked up one of the bullets and twirled it between his fingers. “I don’t want your money, though. I’ve got plenty of money. I want information.”

“What could I possibly know that would be of use to you?”

He set the bullet back down on the table, standing it up. A little tower of brass. “I want to know why you’re alive, after all you’ve been through, and I want to know why everyone who gets close to your little girlfriend is not.”

“You said it yourself, it’s blind luck. Or maybe stupidity, for putting myself in those situations in the first place.”

“I don’t think it’s either of those things.”

“What else is there?”

He nudged the gun toward me. “I want you to put the barrel in your mouth and pull the trigger.”

“No way.”

“You can spin the cylinder yourself, if you want.”

“No.”

“You’re drinking yourself to death. Why waste time? That’s all my father ever did. He dragged it out. This would have been so much easier on everyone.”

“I’m not suicidal.”

“Reid.”

At the mention of his name, Reid pulled a 9mm from a pancake holster in his jeans and pointed it at me. His thumb clicked off the safety.

“If you don’t do it,” Dunk went on, “Reid here will. He has one shot in the chamber, always does. He’s a Boy Scout like that. He’s got thirteen more in the clip. I’ve seen him hit guys running from twenty yards. From three feet away, he’s got zero chance of missing you. So, I’m giving you a choice. He shoots you, or you take a one-in-six chance with the revolver. Either way, we get to see how lucky you really are. Information. Valuable information.”

“I saved your life,” I said.

“You did, and I’m forever grateful for that.”

I looked down at the gun.

Dunk was serious. Reid, too. I think Reid was itching for the chance to put a bullet in me.

My fingers wrapped around the gun’s grip. I took the .38 in my hand and picked it up. “How did you find her?”

“I have people everywhere. Nobody can hide from me. She was tough, but I’ve found tougher.”

The gun felt cold to my touch, lighter than I remembered. “Cammie Brotherton, Jeffery Dalton, Jaquelyn Breece, or Keith Pickford.”

“Who?”

I looked up at him. “I do this, and you help me find them, too. Cammie Brotherton, Jeffery Dalton, Jaquelyn Breece, and Keith Pickford. They went to Penn State with my parents.”

Dunk smiled again. “I think I can—”

Spinning in my chair, I pointed the .38 at Reid’s chest and pulled the trigger.

There were two audible clicks.

The first came from the .38 in my hand as the hammer came down on an empty cylinder. The second click came from the gun in Reid’s hand as the 9mm failed to fire in return.

I jumped up from the table and slammed the .38 into his hand, smashing his fingers. This time, the 9mm did go off. The bullet went wide and clicked off metal somewhere deep in the shadows.

Dunk was up too, his bad leg shaking under the sudden weight. “Holy shit! Did you see that! Did you see that?”

I stepped back from all of them and pointed the .38 at Reid’s face. “Drop it!”

“Holy shit. I can’t believe that!” Dunk said. “Do it, Reid. Drop the gun.”

“I’ve got him dead center.”

“It won’t work.”

“Bullshit.”

I pulled the trigger—the .38 hit another empty cylinder.

Reid fired again, too. A hollow click.

“The .38 is empty, Jack,” Dunk said. “I palmed the bullet, see?” He held up a brass casing. “Holy shit. I didn’t think you’d really do it, but just in case you did, I couldn’t let you shoot yourself!”

Reid and I both stared at his gun.

Dunk’s eyes landed on the 9mm, too. “That one, though. I didn’t touch. Holy shit. Put it away, Reid. Holy shit, is my ticker