Chap6 Bullet for the Bad Guys
"Oh God, why can't I stop licking on my own wounds when I've found my place with you? Fear finds weakness in number. That's why we stay close. We're gallant, we're strong, we're safe. You chose me. You're the firstborn and an angel. You're so brave. Now I can brave myself. Cause I finally found out you're on my side with a bullet for the bad guys, hallelujah! Make me a better love. Make me better, love…" Better Love by Eisley
Iowa
Her dreams were ugly. Dark, alien visions that scared her far worse than the human predators tracking her. More frightening than the masked serial killers in the woods of her movie collection. More painful than Big Redneck's pummeling fists or the Boogeyman's foul intentions. She couldn't stop them from flooding her sleeping mind. They just kept pouring in and torturing her along every mile.
Although the images weren't clear, names were sharp; in focus. They screamed out to her like terrified victims.
Aunt Nora! Uncle Cillian!
Elise woke from her back seat nap with a jolt. The car had stopped.
She eased forward, carefully, still sore. It wasn't quite morning, but dawn's light was bruising the sky as it entered with gorgeous violence. She touched at her swollen cheek and knew the gray-violet horizon matched the left side of her face perfectly.
Blinking out the window, she saw Connor standing beside the door, his back to her, watching the little dials flip on the pump as the car guzzled its fill of gas. She searched the gravelly lot for Murphy.
Murphy. He'd held her the entire drive. Her shoulder cupped in one hand and his beaded cross gripped in the other, he'd prayed in several different languages. His hushed, severe chants had drifted in and out of her head for hours. His voice had been the only thing keeping the nightmares of pain from driving her completely insane.
He must be inside. I need to pee. And I need a drink. Diet soda. And maybe some Cheetos. And…
She felt for the small black phone she'd swiped from the nurse's handbag. The urge to call Aunt Nora swelled, crashing loudly over any guilt she'd felt for stealing. She planned on getting a few things inside and then making her way to the bathroom. There, she would make the call and ditch the phone.
Two minutes. Just to check up on them.
"She lives!" Connor cried happily as she emerged from the car.
His arms stretched, reaching for her. She let him place his hands atop her shoulders, twisting her. It didn't hurt as much as she had prepared it to.
He sized her up in one swift nod. "Stitched up. All in one piece. And standing all on your own. Thatta girl."
She grinned wide, sarcastic. She ignored the dull ache trying to keep her mouth from moving. It would take more than that to shut her up. "I can walk and talk, too. I'll even wet myself if I don't get to the bathroom soon."
He let her go. "Aye, we don't want that, lass."
She lifted her chin toward the little building behind them. "Murphy inside?"
"Nah, he's around the side. Making a phone call to Little Johnny. Checkin' in, I suppose. We're just a few minutes outside of Nebraska. Thought he might like to know we are almost there."
I hope he doesn't tell him about what happened yesterday, she lamented. She didn't want Little Johnny thinking the McManus boys couldn't handle her.
Without her usual pep, Elise ambled with a new, completely unsexy slowness into the gas station. She passed the older man behind the counter as he greeted her with a warm good morning. Her eyes flashed over him behind the tangled web of her hair. Carefully, she pushed the mess behind her ear before giving him one half wince-half smile.
She passed another guy on her way to the snack aisle. He was handling all the cheap Hostess knock-offs, but not really making a definite choice. She snagged up a bag of Cheetos and made her way to the coolers in the back. Another guy, shorter and black-skinned, stood, blocking her way from the Coke products.
This little place is jumping at dawn, she casually mentioned to herself.
She pasted on another perfunctory grin for his benefit. "Excuse me," she said. She reached around him, finding her soda of choice. It was happy and cold and ready to be her relief.
"What the hell happened to yo' face?" The guy asked, finally noticing her.
"Bar fight," she told him blankly.
"Who won?"
She unsnapped her purse and eased out Big Greasy's gun. She flashed it toward him. "This did."
The guy jumped back like the gun was loaded and cocked at his head. His dark eyes nearly busted from their sockets. "Holy shit. Okay, lady. You best put that shit away before that ole man hits the panic switch."
She shrugged, listless. "You asked."
She found a meager toiletry aisle stocked with some cheap lip gloss, probably-cakey mascara, and powder. She snatched up a flimsy hair brush, a toothbrush, and a travel size tube of toothpaste. Arms loaded, she rounded her way to the counter. The Generic Hostess guy had moved on to fingering packaged nuts and sunflower seeds, but his eyes never left her.
It gave Elise the creeps. What's he doing? She wondered. Has the whole male population gone Creeper?
The guy behind the counter was acting strange, too. He was sweating beneath a mass of wiry white hair, letting the streams soak into his bushy salt-n-pepper eyebrows. Elise watched as his face never flinched, grinning at her and nodding as he added up her purchase. Once, his wincing eyes nervously flicked toward the black guy at the coolers. The dude was still there, but texting and nodding at something on his phone.
She tried not to think about it. She didn't want to notice any unusual behavior here. She wanted to pay and find the bathroom. She wanted to attempt some kind of looks recovery, pee, and call her aunt. Then, she wanted to get back on the road and haul ass to reunite with her sister.
"Can I use your ladies room?" She asked.
The sweating cashier pointed her in the direction of the restrooms at the back of the station. He was wincing deeper, almost regretfully.
She had to walk past the texting guy she'd startled with the gun to get there, but she avoided eye contact. She kept her bag at her side and her head tucked down.
Inside the bathroom, she used the weak lighting to apply a touch of powder. Each stroke over her mangled skin left her seething in pain.
Freaking jerk! She screamed to the man who was no longer alive. She hoped he was getting a face pounding in Hell.
It didn't take long to relieve herself and finish tidying up her appearance. She did the best she could with the few products he'd bought and the condition she was in. She was sure it would be quite frightful upon entering the homeless shelter and have her sister's first glimpse of her be the trampled mess she was frowning at in the mirror.
But it's all I can do, she sighed.
At least her lips gleamed of color and her lashes were coated, brightening her eyes just a bit. Her mouth was clean and her hair was tamed, landing gently and obediently past each shoulder blade. It was almost like reentering the convent.
Back to plain, faceless Sister Elizabeth. She stuck out her tongue at the bland reflection in childlike rebellion. The thought of strapping back into the boring habit was almost as excruciating as the redneck's beating.
A noise from the next room caught her attention. Some kind of shuffling. Or shoving. It distracted her as she fumbled over the tiny keyboard of the phone, plucking away at her aunt and uncle's number she'd memorized.
Don't listen. You don't want to know, she instructed herself.
But yes she did want to know.
She heard it again. A whimper; then more scuffling, and it was just like at the diner with muffled voices and dark things going on behind a locked door.
Elise put the phone to an ear while placing the other one to the cold, blue brick wall. As if she could feel the tremors of pain and suffering through the stone.
Aunt Nora answered on the third ring. "'Ello?" Her sweet tinkle of Irish voice rang across the line.
Elise had to put her concentration back on to the call. "Auntie Nora! It's me; Elise," she rushed, suppressing a happy squeal. "I don't have long. I just needed to hear you. Hear your voice again."
"Oh darling! What are ya doing calling? I'm sure that's off limits, dear, at least for-"
She shook her head, pushing aside all the rules and limitations that had been forced upon her in the last eight years. She was so sick of living in the Yakavetta family's chains, shuffling around their stupid rules.
"I know, but I had to hear you. Make sure everything is okay there." Her nightmares with their names calling kept reverberating inside her. "What are you doing right now?"
She could tell Aunt Nora was moving around the house. She heard Uncle Cillian's television buzzing in the background and the dishwasher running noisily. Normal sounds that made her long for them and their simple everydayness.
"Well, I'm not doing anything exciting like you, dear. I'm changing the sheets. And Uncle Cillian's out at the grocery store. Stocking up on his bread and cans for the storm. There's going to be a snow storm tonight," she rattled off, taking shallow breaths and thinking of more to say around them. Elise drank the words down like fresh milk.
Elise gripped the phone, hugging it to her ear like she wanted to hug her aunt. She squeezed her eyes shut, wincing at the longing that cut through her like no knife blade was sharp enough to do.
"How is it traveling across the country with those two fellas?" Elise could tell she was smiling, being mischievous in her kindly way. "Getting to know each other easy enough?"
You have no idea, Aunt Nora. "It's been…uh, eventful." She thought carefully. "But I, we, will be in Nebraska within an hour so I'll call you again later. When everything is figured out, and I finally see Emilia. I love you so much."
Tears filled her eyes, but Elise refused to let them escape.
She accepted Aunt Nora's sentimental reply, and stashed it as close to her heart as she could. She couldn't wait to give her aunt's sweet regards to Emilia and the children. And to be whole again.
Ending the call, she dashed from the bathroom, forgetting all about the strange noises from before. Just hearing Aunt Nora's voice, knowing she was safe and sound, put a bit of pep back in her step. Even if she was wearing just a pair of basic black flats.
She moved fast past the check out counter, ignoring the eyes that watched her walk out the front doors. It wasn't until she was back in the car next to Murphy that it registered what she had seen in the reflection of the glass. Black steel being drawn back out from the fold of a coat just as she had pushed through the doors.
They're robbing the place. And they're going to kill the man behind the counter.
Her shoulders dropped. She sighed, looking longingly at the bag of food waiting beside her on the cool seat. Her fingers stroked the brown paper, but they crawled away to her purse, feeling again for the gun that was also waiting. It had been silent too long.
She heard the boys arguing. Murphy wanted behind the wheel. Connor was resisting, easing the car slowly away from the pumps. He seemed too engrossed in fighting with his twin than actually getting them back on to the main road.
To Elise, it was blinding noise that diverted her attention from the real matter at hand.
"We can't leave," she interrupted, dismal and flat.
They both turned on her.
"Why the hell not? You were in the bathroom for damn near a half an hour!" Connor bellowed.
"You want to get to the shelter before Christmas, don'tcha?" Murphy asked, not as loud or as intolerant, but still prickly.
Her eyes flicked back to the building. "Because some thugs are in there right now holding up an old man. They're going to shoot him once the cash register is drained and the safe is emptied."
The boys stared at each other.
"Shit. Another premonition?" Connor barked. "Ya got to find the switch that turns those damn things off, love. We keep landing our asses in trouble with you around."
Murphy slapped at the back of his brother's neck. "Shut your pie hole! She can't just turn em off. It's divine intervention." He grabbed at the beaded cord dangling around his neck to emphasize his point.
Resigned, Connor shrugged. "Then it's time to go to work," he sighed.
"Looks like we're putting in some overtime," Murphy muttered.
Connor reached beneath the seat for his reserve box of ammo. He reloaded, still impressing her with his speed and finesse. He tossed a few bullets over his shoulder. Without a glance, Murphy snatched them from the air like a magician catching an overflow of colorful scarves tossed from a magic hat.
With all this enchantment, Elise felt compelled to check her own piece, even just for show.
"What's the plan?" She dared to ask.
Nobody spoke. The action was stalled with silence and passed looks. But Elise knew their moment to intercede was slipping away just as quietly and violently. She also knew stomping back inside planless with guns blazing would cost the old man his life. Her eyes pleaded with Connor to throw something useful out to them.
"I've got it!" He whooped. "Ha, it's fucking brilliant, too." He turned to Murphy. "Remember Dirty Harry; the first one-when the bad guys are robbing the liquor store and holding some poor bastard hostage? Then, the leader decides he wants a getaway car," Connor added, getting more animated with his retelling. "So, Dirty Harry delivers one right through the front glass windows and just shoots the fuck right outta them. Here's your fucking getaway car, you dirty sonsofwhores!" He hooted, lost in his favorite action hero's finer moments. "That's us. We're gonna just crash right through the fucking place and open fire on em."
"What? That's just fucking stupid!" Murphy erupted. "In case you haven't noticed, dear brother, you're no Clint Eastwood. And brilliant would mean original. Your plan's stolen from an unrealistic cop movie, and,"
Calmly, Elise interrupted. "And technically, it's not entirely accurate. You see, that scene was from The Enforcer which was the third movie in the Dirty Harry series, and,"
"Are you fucking serious with that shit, girly?" Connor spat at her. "Are you really going to correct me in the middle of a,"
The explosion of gunfire coming from the gas station ended the discussion for good.
From the back window, Elise glimpsed the flash of light expended from the gun that dropped the cashier to his knees.
She heard a scream tear from her throat, but it was drowned by the sound of screeching tires as Connor put the car into reverse and mindlessly aimed for the store front.
Elise's body was also flung into motion. She flipped cruelly onto her back, letting Murphy's lap catch her head. Her legs spread and bent without any regard for modesty, giving her panties a good view of daylight.
Glass splintered and rained around the car like a sharp, glistening shower. The car drove over a newspaper rack, crunching over the metal and scattering the day's headlines like New Year's confetti over Times Square. Bad guys dove in all directions and bullets streamed aimlessly through the air, landing wherever they pleased.
From where Elise sprawled useless on her back, watching the scene from the broken back window, she decided it couldn't have gotten any more dramatic or movie-like.
Until Murphy twisted completely in the seat, forcing her head back up and in the game. He was shooting at the cashier's shooter, but missing terribly. Elise leaned forward, and with a half swipe of her swollen bottom lip, she aimed, shaky, but sharp at the creep.
"Get im," she heard Connor urge her even though he was occupied with the two thieves flanking both sides of the car.
She pulled the trigger, spinning the perpetrator with the momentum of the slug. Murphy followed up with a shot to his back. The guy slumped over softly like a wet concrete pillow.
Murphy swiveled, aiming to assist his brother in taking down the other crooks that continued to fire shots at the car. That's when Elise remembered the strange sounds on the other side of the wall of the bathroom.
A stockroom, her mind frantically surmised. Someone's in there; hurt maybe.
The bullets were still soaring, but she didn't blink. Not once as she heaved herself over the shard- speckled seat and slithered out onto the trunk. Her bare knee snagged a jagged piece of window. It cut deep, but she barely noticed. Her adrenaline was pushing her way beyond her normal limitations.
Murphy called her name. She disregarded him, heading the same path she took upon entering to the bathroom. She didn't feel the throb of new pain or the squish in her shoe as it filled with her blood. The sounds surrounding her echoed familiar; chaos, destruction-all at the hands of a handful of men. But she couldn't stop. She couldn't not help someone.
Murphy was right when he said you don't have a choice in the matter. When the Lord puts it upon you, you just must do it, she mused.
She headed for the brick wall that separated the front of the store from the back store room. There were no swinging doors to barge through; just a corner to round and a quick greeting from tall metal shelving storing shipments of individually packaged snacks. She knew she should've been stealthier about her approach, but she wasn't a stunt woman or a seasoned cop. She wasn't Connor's action star imitator, either.
I'm just me. Living on the mercy of God. So whether or not I get blown away depends on Him, she decided, and rounded the corner with a limp and a cocked weapon.
"Who's there?" She demanded, sounding stronger than she felt.
Something shifted. A shoe sliding along a dusty concrete floor.
It was fairly dark behind the shelves, but a small, glowing light from a distant door leading to the back lot filtered in. It gave her just enough sight to avoid tripping on a bundled stack of overstocked magazines and completely destroying her already wounded knee.
The gun trembled against her palm. She wondered why it felt so scared when her grip was comforting and confident.
"Don't come around here. If you do, I'll shoot him, I swear," hissed a panicked feminine voice.
Elise stopped. She breathed deep. She wished she was anywhere but here. Then, she eased her eyes around another shelving unit.
Sprawled on the floor sat an unimaginably young girl and her equally young bound and gagged hostage. The boy in rope leaned into his captor, clenching his eyes against the steel barrel pressed into his ribs. The girl with the gun was almost lost behind him; she was so small with frazzled dark hair and even more stressed out eyes. Probably barely a teenager.
It's like a flea holding up a rat, she almost laughed. But in reality there was nothing funny about the situation. The girl was terrified, and her trigger finger looked unstable.
How could someone so young be dragged in to something so dangerously mature? Her mind raced. Then, she thought of her own family. Her cousins, initiated into their false world of Yakavetta security that inevitably always turned to deceit and murder. This could be me. She knew. This could have been me!
She looked at the gun in her hands. It kind of is…
Her head shook violently as her heart proclaimed otherwise. No, Elise. Don't ever think you are the same. There is a difference. You should feel it by now…
Elise decided to speak. "Just let me come around and make sure everyone is okay."
"No!" The girl slammed her voice down harder without even a consideration.
"Please," Elise gulped. "I won't hurt you. I want to help. Please."
She hoped the urgency, the sincerity in her tone would persuade the girl to let her approach.
"No, you stay put!" She yelled. "Or I mean it, he's dead!"
Elise backed off. "Okay, okay," she whistled between her teeth. For a second, she just stood, frozen and awkward, listening as the shoot-out turned to silence. Then, she heard the car doors creak open, and Murphy asking Connor for coins.
To cover the eyes. She recalled. Tradition.
"Why are you doing this?" She finally breathed.
The girl did not answer. The guy she held up whimpered in reply. Elise assumed the gun was poking him deeper, becoming more menacing.
"Well? You can't at least answer me?" Elise moved her eyes around the shelf again, catching the young girl's owly gaze. "He's the one with the rag stuffed in his kisser not you. Speak!" She demanded.
The girl spoke. Stammered, really. "I, I, have to."
"Why?"
"Cuz he told me to."
"Who told you to?"
"My brother."
It went quiet. Then, the girl cracked. "Is he dead?"
Now. Put the gun down, her heart instructed. And she obeyed. Elise set the gun on the floor and gave it a scoot across the hard tiles with the tip of her flat. She hoped the girl would translate this as a peace offering. Anything to get her off the boy and back to reality.
She sighed, answering her. "Most likely."
The girl tried to stifle her sobs, but they just could not be contained inside that little box of a body. The tough poured from her, washing her frailty clean. It shined so bright around her that Elise thought she'd go blind if she kept staring.
"No," she cried into her dark hoodie sleeve. "I ain't got no one now. No one."
The boy, baffled by such an outburst, stared wide-eyed between his captor and his savior. Elise gave him a sharp nod. Stay calm, she mouthed.
Wasn't expecting that, she admitted. But I used to know how that felt. When I thought everyone that cared about me was dead. Thank God for Aunt Nora and Uncle Cillian. Thank God for the goodness of them.
Elise thought of Aunt Nora. What she would say to this heaving, slobbering sad girl. And she'd remind me of my hurt and lonliness. And tell me to show compassion. Tell me not to leave her alone; take her somewhere safe where people could help her.
"I'm coming over there," she told the girl with a finality that made arguing or resisting futile.
Quickly, she scooted toward the two. The girl tossed the gun away as Elise bent, undeterred by the cut focusing its pain on her knee. Fresh blood ran, pooling close to the gun she'd abandoned to make peace with this girl.
Without her approval, Elise took to the boy's bound wrists. She pried at the amateur-tied rope until his numb hands could help, wriggling their way to a pins and needles freedom. She knocked the rag from his gaping mouth.
He coughed, said something, then tore from them in a race of flailing limbs and shouts for help.
Connor appeared as the kid disappeared out the back door. He barely glanced at the crying girl because the sirens were sounding; too faint to be anywhere too close, but close enough to call it a day.
"Elise, come on. We gotta move," he told her with a flick of his still-steaming gun.
She nodded. Her hands held the girl. She leaned in to her, speaking clearly and fast. "I know you don't know us. And you might have mixed feelings about knowing us now that your brother is dead, but I'm telling you we have to go. And you have to come with us."
The girl's eyes shot up into the woman's face. Her face twisted, an ugly expression of uncertainty and utterly hopeful. "Wha…?" She exhaled.
Connor heard her. His head shook violently against the suggestion. "No. No way. Not a good idea, doll. We don't pick up strays."
Eyes clenched, Elise slapped her hands onto the concrete as if to make the final judgment. "Really? Just like you wanted to leave me back at the church that first night?" She pointed to the girl. "Take a real look at her. She's just a child. I'm not okay with leaving her here to take the fall for everyone and,"
He interrupted with a maniacal, opposing laugh. "Ha! And I don't care what you're okay with. I'm the chaperone. The guy in charge. Man of the World here, and I say we don't pick up strays."
Somewhere in the distance Murphy hollered for them over the rise of the nearing sirens.
Elise shook her head. Her defiance matched his resistance, but she knew him. She knew he'd relent because under the blank, emotionless black clothes and the hard lines of his face, he had a soft, pillowy heart just waiting for someone to rest their woes upon. She just knew. She'd glimpsed his gentle side back in the pool.
"Stand up," she told the girl, and they stood together.
Elise recovered her gun while the girl kicked her own deep under a broken down freezer standing useless behind her.
Connor knew he'd lose this battle. "Damn it, woman," he seethed, but she breezed past him with the cowering girl in tow. "My brother's not going to like this, ya know," he added for goading purposes.
But she ignored him, pushing the girl ahead of her and into the waiting car. She wasn't surprised it was still running and waiting impatiently with Murphy revving the engine behind the wheel. He turned, his face bunched up at the stranger in the back seat.
"What the fuck is this?" He quipped. He looked to his brother.
Connor was distracted, pushing past debris and manhandling the lodged car door. "What the fuck is this, I said?" He called out the window.
Connor swore and kicked at the unbudging door. He popped his head through the bullet-shattered passenger window. "You deal with it. I'm done with that one," his eyes landed mean like punishment on Elise for only a moment before he ducked back out the window. His head was replaced with his dirty boots as he shoved his lanky form, awkward and contorted, through the empty frame.
Murphy whirled on her, pointing the gun at the girl. "You know we can't."
Elise pointed a stubborn chin at him. She stared through him. "Yes. We can."
Murphy almost chuckled. "No."
"Yes," she clucked.
"We don't have time for this," his brother sang under his breath.
"To Hell with that," Murphy blurted. "We're making time. Elise, she's not a puppy. We can't just collar her up and drag her along with us."
Why doesn't he get it? She thought more of him. Why couldn't he just live up to her expectations? Inside, she felt like crying; begging like a child to get her way. Instead, she steeled her face. She leaned just inches from his, gripping the seat where his shoulder rested. "She's just a kid. You just killed the only person she had and now you presume to just abandon her with no one? We have to do the Christian thing."
Connor invaded, placing a cupped ear between her frowning lips and his brother's scowl. "What's that I hear? Approaching police cars and steel bars slamming behind us?"
Murphy flashed him an impatient look. His eyes softened when they came back to Elise. "What do you want to do with her? Adopt her? You can't save everyone."
As hell bent as she was against them, the tears welled up. She looked down at the gun in her hand, out the window at the nameless victims they'd just created. And for what? The cashier was dead news behind the counter anyway. But she knew. So they'd never kill another innocent person. Or force the poor teenage girl next to her to do anything of the sort.
Still. There has to be more. More to this than just vindicating the wronged. We have to right the wrong, too. There has to be accountability and responsibility and charity. Love.
"Then what are we doing here?" Elise said softly, piercing her quivering lip with a sharp tooth that commanded self control. She blinked back the tears. Love, she thought again, looking into the face she had come to adore quite quickly.
He shook his head at her, his eyes narrowing. "Fine," he sighed. "But she's your responsibility. Don't be calling on us to help the two of you out if you get your knickers in a twist, girly."
"That's fine," she agreed. "She will be my liability."
Murphy threw the car into gear, pouncing on the gas harder than really necessary. His brother crashed into him as they shot out the hole they had carved in the store front.
"Sensitive pussy," Connor grumbled.
Murphy didn't reply. He just stuck shards of blue glass through the rear view mirror into the woman leaning behind him with guarded, folded arms and a stream of silent tears dripping from her eyes.
He got them back on to the main road while Connor dictated by map, but his eyes hardly left her. She made him feel things he didn't like sorting out. Think things he didn't want to deal with. Second guess himself and his brother. She made him understand what he'd been struggling with. She made him work with what he'd been avoiding. She made him listen to what he'd been hearing whispered to him at night in his restless dreams. And it was as uncomfortable as all Hell.
She felt his stare, sharper than the splinter that had entered her knee. She closed her eyes against it and hoped he would get over whatever he hated about her right now quickly.
The girl curled, tucking her skinny arms and legs as close to her chest as possible. After brushing away the pesky tears, Elise leaned into her.
"What's your name?" She asked.
"Patience," the teenager eeked.
"Patience what?"
"Patience Parsons," she quivered.
Elise smiled gently. She placed a kind hand atop the girl's bent knee. "I'm Elise." She pointed forward at the two heads facing the world outside racing past them at an unbelievably speedy pace. "Connor and Murphy are my friends."
"Now she's giving away our identities to the stray," she heard Connor mutter.
Resisting the urge to bang the seat with a reprimanding kick, she squeezed Patience's knee, bracing her for another question.
"What's your brother's name?" She asked.
Patience gulped. "Knowledge."
"Oh yeah? Ironic," Connor huffed. "Too bad he didn't have the smarts to,"
Murphy silenced him with a rough slam to the sack. "Stop already."
"Aw, fuck you. Ya both know this is dangerous bullshit we're messing with here. As if we don't have enough on our plates already now we've got," he shot his hand back, waving at her like she was blind to his actions and deaf to his words. "This! And whatever trouble she turns out to be. I mean, s'pose she's part of a gang! S'pose she contacts someone from her gang and her posse comes looking for her and shit. What then? We've got enough bounty on our heads to add more. So you better have your eyes peeled on her twenty-four seven, woman, because we've got enough to deal with just getting you to Nebraska in one piece!"
Patience trembled against the force of his rant. She bit at a rough, jagged thumb nail. Elise eased her hand from her mouth, whispering and shaking her head against the loudness.
It hurt when Murphy added his own two cents. "This is exactly why a woman as a partner is a seriously bad idea. Too emotional. Too sentimental. Everything's got to be about feelings and doing good and shit when it should be about good, old-fashioned common sense. Rational thought."
She'd heard enough. Chuckling, she replied. "Oh yes, the Dirty Harry plan was so rational and,"
"And it worked!" Connor yelped.
"Hardly! As you can clearly see we orphaned Patience and ruined the entire car!" She yelled back against the wind picking up through the hole where glass used to be. "We're freezing back here thanks to you shooting out the back window!"
"Oh you're cold are ya?" Connor hollered. "Murph, blast the heat. The lass and her stray are cold in the back seat."
Murphy hit the switch. He glanced back at Elise and the girl shivering as the crisp November highway air lifted their hair and pimpled their flesh.
"Maybe we should stop somewhere. Get them a blanket or two," he suggested.
Connor glanced over his shoulder at the same scene. Both females winced against the cold. Patience could barely hold her teeth from chattering.
He sighed, turning to look flat and defeated at his brother. "Fine. Stop somewhere, fucking sensitive pussy."
(End of chapter)