“Would you rather I call it a brawl?”
“No. It was an attack.”
He nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I am happy I insisted you learn those moves, though.”
I am, too. After I’d confessed everything about John to Durango, he took me to his gym. I imagined a sweaty place where everyone was lifting weights. But I was wrong. It was a martial arts studio. And he got me signed up to learnjiu-jitsu. I’d heard of it from watching some UFC matches. While I’m no master, a year of training has made me a lot stronger, more confident, and apparently able to take down John.
“John told his story on the local news last night,” I say.
Durango stops eating and sets his food down. “What station?”
I shrug as my cousin types furiously on his phone.
“Found it.” He walks over behind me and holds up his cell so we can both see.
“Why is this online?” I ask. I don’t know much about news, but I didn’t think they put their entire broadcast on the internet. Or do they? I guess I don’t pay attention to much news.
John tells one lie after another, and the person interviewing him is clearly sympathetic. He goes on about how I attacked him out of the blue, and he pulled out his gun in self-defense.
“Scroll down to the comments,” I say. Hopefully, there are none, and this article will get buried.
But that’s not my luck. “One thousand comments since last night?”
Durango scrolls back to the top. “This was posted an hour ago.”
I push my lunch away, no longer hungry. The few comments I read support him. People will believe him. I used to believe him. My stomach cramps, and I feel nauseated.
“Hey, he didn’t say your name, so if you’re lucky, this won’t tie back to you,” Durango says.
But we both know it’s only a matter of time. John will make sure of it.
“You all right?” Durango asks.
I shake my head. “No, but I will be.” I guess now is as good as any time to give him the news. “I asked Jerry about leaving town. He said it’s best I stay here.”
Durango nods. “I figured as much. I called Stormy earlier and discussed the situation. While he said he’d rather have me transfer than quit, he really would prefer I stay here.”
“Is Seattle off the table?”
“It is.”
At least that’s one bright spot in an otherwise crappy day. I manage to get through the rest of my shift without looking at any more comments. I’m riding on the high that I’m staying in New York. But on the drive home, my phone blows up. Looks like someone has figured out who I am. Now, I’m being tagged in posts and videos all over social media. I’m being called horrible names and worse. Several people sent personal messages threatening to do to me what I did to John.
“What’s going on?” my cousin asks, glancing from the road to my phone. “That’s a lot of dings coming in.”
“Someone figured out who John was talking about, and now they are coming for me.”
CHAPTER 12
Ozzie
It’s taking allmy self-control not to shove my elbow back into JB’s stomach. Since Lightning had been watching him on the walk, which included carrying him, I’m the lucky SOB who gets to haul him with me on the back of this snowmobile. The problem? The guy is scared and holding on a bit too tight. He somehow manages to pinch my nipple twice, and I still don’t get how through this coat.
Harding and Lightning had argued for a while over who would drive. Lightning finally won out since he’s taller and would fit better in front.
Lightning stops, and I pull up next to him. He nods toward the bridge—the bridge we must cross with no cover, no corners to turn to hide. If any of the men hunting JB are on the other side of it, they will see us coming. Although we are hoping if anyone is watching us, they willthink we’re the men they sent out in the first place. Now that I see the bridge, the odds of anyone watching us are low. It’s a small bridge far south of where they would expect us to be.
I nod back to Lightning. We’d agreed we’d take the bridge fast if we could, so we speed up and weave in and out of the stalled cars abandoned in the snow. Even with the helmets the men had left on the seats, the wind around my neck is brutal.
