I laugh and climb in the back, stepping over the body and sitting down on the sofa against the back window. Josh climbs in after me, shutting the door and resting against one of his worktops.
“There’s something else,” I say, drying my face with a cloth that was lying on the floor. “The cop said that Trent’s got the entire city after me. That’s how they found us so fast.”
Josh let’s out heavy sigh. “Jesus… Shit just got real, huh?”
“Big time,” I say, raising my eyebrows in agreement.
“So what now?”
I massage my temples and stroke my three-day old beard for a moment, thinking. Right now, only one option is making any sense to me. I catch myself subconsciously scratching the scar I have running down my left cheek, from just below my eye to just above my jaw. A gift from an old acquaintance…
“We need to lay low until we figure out the next move,” I say, finally.
He nods, seeing where I’m going.
“Allentown?” he asks.
I sit back and rest my head against the back windshield. “Allentown.”
We’d gone back to our suites in the Hilton and gathered up our things, and then hit the road. We’ve taken the I-76 through Harrisburg. The weather’s been horrific, with almost zero visibility the entire journey. As we slowly lost what daylight we had, the traffic has crawled to a near-standstill.
“This was meant to take about five hours,” Josh says, impatiently. “We’ve been on the road for nearly eight…”
“You want me to drive?” I ask.
“Nah, it’s alright.”
“Well, quit whining then.”
I smile as he gives me the finger.
“I just hate being stuck in traffic…” he explains, gesturing with his hand out the front windshield at the vehicles ahead of us that are barely moving.
Another car cuts across us with hardly any space to move. Josh is livid, and he starts punching the horn in time to his cursing.
“You! Piece! Of! Shit!” he yells.
I smile to myself, sit back, and close my eyes.
We’re probably still about an hour out, and it’s almost ten-thirty. I imagine we’ll end up camping out in the Winnebago for the night, then go and see Manhattan first thing in the morning.
Everything lights up outside for a split second as lightning explodes across the night sky, followed a few seconds later by a loud rumble of thunder.
“Jesus,” he murmurs. “Not seen weather this bad in a while.”
“Doesn’t look like it’ll let up any time soon, either,” I add.
We hear a phone ring. We both look at each other and frown.
“Is that you?” I ask.
“Not me,” he replies, shrugging.
“Me neither.”
I look over my shoulder into the back of the van, trying to listen and pinpoint where the ringing is coming from. I follow the sound and realize it’s originating from the phone I took off Trent’s pet cop. I get up and walk over to it, picking it up curiously. I look at the screen.
“Huh…”
“What’s up?” asks Josh, quickly glancing over his shoulder.
I hold the phone up to show him. “It’s Trent,” I say.
His eyes go wide and I feel a nervous excitement wash over me.
“You gonna answer it?” he asks.
I smile and answer it, pressing the speaker button as I sit back down next to Josh.
“Yeah?” I say casually.
“What the fuck took you so long to answer your goddamn phone?” yells Trent. “What’s happening? Did you find him?”
I close my eyes and take a long, slow, calming breath. I’m about to declare war, and once I do, it will only end in either his death, or mine. The point of no return…
I open my eyes again. Every aspect of myself has been removed so only my Inner Satan remains, and he’s about to have a conversation he’s been waiting for, for close to a decade.
“Yeah, they found me,” I reply.
There’s a moment of silence on the line.
“Who is this?” Trent demands.
“It’s the Grim Reaper, asshole,” I reply through gritted teeth.
“You…?”
“Me.”
“Where are the cops?”
“I left one in an alleyway with a broken face, and the other is bound, gagged, and unconscious in the back of my van.”
More silence.
“You’re a dead man,” says Trent.
“You first.”
“You killed my son!”
“You killed my wife and daughter… do you really want to start a game of who owes who?”
“What’s it been? Eight years since you ran like a fucking pussy?”
I take a deep breath, resisting every urge I have to let his words get to me.
“A lot can happen in eight years,” I say.
“I’m gonna find you, and when I do, I’m gonna—”
“You’re gonna what? Assume I’m still the inexperienced, wet-behind-the-ears amateur who unknowingly shot your boy in the face? Then what? You gonna shout and curse at me some more? Remind me of what you did to my family? You listen to me, you sonofabitch — you ask around, alright? Adrian Hughes died eight years ago. The monster I am now, you created, and I’ve earned somewhat of a reputation in my time… I’m coming for you, you piece of shit, and I’m gonna bury you and anyone who dares get in my way.”
I hang up, wind the window down, and throw the phone across the interstate. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself and close the door on my Inner Satan once again, before turning to Josh. He’s staring straight ahead at the road, eyes still wide.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing… I just forget sometimes how much of a scary bastard you can be.”
I sit back and relax.
That was nothing compared to what I have planned for Wilson Trent.
We drive on through the storm for another half hour pretty much in silence. Then another ringing phone sounds out. This time, it is mine. I look at the screen. An unknown number. I look at Josh and shrug before answering.
“Hello?” I say with a sigh.
“Adrian? It’s Jimmy Manhattan.”
I roll my eyes and mouth ‘Manhattan’ silently to Josh, who mirrors my reaction.
“And what can I do for you?” I ask.
“I was wondering if you’d given any more thought to my offer of a contract…”
“As it happens, Jimmy, I have. Due to some unforeseen circumstances, I have a window in my schedule to fit you in. We’re driving to Allentown as we speak to come and see you. I was gonna surprise you, but we’ve been stuck on I-76 for hours.”
“Excellent news!” he says, sounding very pleased, although I detect a hint of relief in his voice as well. “I’ll arrange for you to spend the night at The Carrington with me. Head straight there and we’ll discuss the details in the morning over breakfast.”
“Don’t get carried away with yourself and start thinking we’re friends, Jimmy. I’m only coming to see you to talk. I’ve not agreed to anything yet.”
“No, no — of course. Tell the front desk when you arrive that you’re there to see me, and they’ll show you to your rooms.”
“Fine, whatever,” I say, before hanging up.
“So?” asks Josh, looking over.
“We have rooms at The Carrington Hotel being arranged for us, courtesy of Mr. Manhattan. We’re to head straight there, apparently.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Oooo, very nice! See? This is how we should be living, Boss — five star all the way!”
I shake my head and laugh. “Whatever lights your candle, Josh.”
I sit back, put my feet up on the dash, and rest my head back against the seat.
What the hell have I let myself in for?