“Hello, Mr. Teague. My name is Bill,” said a modulated voice on the other end of the line.
“Hello, Bill,” Ghost said, biting down hard on the anger that wanted to bleed into his own voice. He had to play this game; he had to be the president. There was no room here for error – and emotion was never anything but an error. “Can I talk to your boss?”
“No. I’ll be handling this conversation.”
How polite it all was.
Ghost stood in the chapel, the doors shut, flanked by his officers and Mercy. Aidan would have wanted to be here for this, even if all he could do was listen helplessly with the rest of them. But he wasn't back yet, and whenthiscall came through, you didn’t let it go to voicemail.
“Alright.” Ghost put his cellphone on speaker mode and held it in front of him. Michael, Walsh, Ratchet and Mercy crowded close to listen. “You’ve got my attention. Let’s talk.”
Sounds of footsteps on a hard floor, muffled through the phone connection. A shuffling. A rustling. Then Bill again: “I have Kevin Estes with me.”
“I know that,” Ghost said tightly. “Kev, you there?” he asked, just to make sure.
“Yeah, boss. I’m alright.” Tango’s voice was surprisingly steady, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
Mercy folded his arms, massive biceps clenching and releasing with undirected violence.
Ghost felt the same. “You guys want all the rest of your coke back, right?” he said into the phone. “Tell me when and where and we’ll make the swap. Let’s not fuck around here.”
A pause. “Yes, he wants the coke,” Bill said. “But that’s not enough anymore.”
“What?” all of them said at once.
Bill’s voice had a smile to it. “You’re going to pay punitive damages, too, Mr. Teague. To the tune of five-hundred-thousand dollars. Or I will disassemble your boy Kevin piece by piece.”
~*~
Kev was gone for a long time. Whitney stared down at her knees, tracing the buckles of her boots with her fingertips, wanting to do something mindless that grounded her. She was here, she was unharmed…but she washere.
She wondered if Jason was getting the money.
She wondered if he’d abandoned her.
She wondered what they were doing to Kev up there…
She closed her eyes tight and tried not to envision anything. He was sweet, and calm, and he’d been kind to her when he didn’t have to be. At first glimpse, she’d seen the tattoos peeking from beneath his clothes and covering the backs of his fingers; the earrings glittering all down his ears; the hair. But then quickly she’d seen the face beneath it all, the kind blue eyes. He wasn’t scary; he was almost pretty. And for the past however many hours he’d been the only thing keeping her sane.
It seemed like an eternity before she heard the door open. The footsteps that moved toward her were uneven. Someone walking smartly…towing along someone who was having trouble standing.
Oh no.
Kev’s cell door squealed open and he was shoved inside. The door closed with a slam. Kev landed on his hands and knees on the cold concrete, and stayed that way, spine curled, the vertebrae standing out beneath his t-shirt.
His t-shirt that was peppered with blood at the shoulders.
Whitney waited until she heard the upper door close and then she moved, going to the bars that separated their cells, curling her fingers around them. “Kev.”
He breathed rapidly, shallowly, his gasps echoing off the floor beneath him.
“Kev, are you okay?” Her heart began to pound, keeping rhythm with his respiration.
Slowly, he sat back, and she gasped. The blood was coming from his ear, the entire outer edge a mess of red. His earrings were gone; they’d been ripped out, leaving jagged puckers in the skin. He looked like he’d been chewed on by something.
“God,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
He gave her a smile that was more of a grimace, his eyes glazed over with pain. “It’s always the stuff that doesn’t leave a mark that hurts the worst,” he said, voice faraway. “Remember that.”
