Alistair McIntyre - Shallow Creek

“The big bald bastard living with Taryn?”

“Yeah, he’s her personal cook and guardian.” Grant spoke faster now. “She’s never ODed, she’s never been back to hospital. Serge takes care of her and makes sure she’s as good as an addict can be.”

“So you need multiple kitchens, or labs, or whatever you call them, just to service our sister’s habit? No way.”

Grant laughed at this. Brendan could hear the sirens drawing closer.

“You have no idea how much money’s involved here, man. After I forced those Latin fucks out, cornering the market was easier than taking a piss. So yeah, we expanded our supply to increase our reach. I hired more guys and—”

Brendan’s phone beeped in the dirt. He was as shocked as Grant by the interruption. The damn thing had been dead on the ride over to the cabin.

“That a text?” Grant asked. When Brendan nodded, Grant smiled crookedly and told him to read it. At this point, Brendan welcomed any distraction.

“It’s from Marcus,” Brendan announced after picking up the phone, which he’d taken a few steps forward to retrieve. His face dropped. “Oh, shit.”

Grant’s smile faltered. “What is it?”

Brendan looked up slowly and met his brother’s gaze with a somber expression. “Taryn’s dead.”

“You’re a liar.”

“Marcus says the trailer blew up.”

“You’re lying,” Grant insisted.

“You just told me Serge cooks this shit for Taryn.”

“But not in the trailer,” Grant exclaimed. “I always told him, ‘Never in the trailer!’”

The knife fell from Spee’s neck. She instantly swung her combined fists toward Grant’s crotch, but he avoided a direct hit. Brendan started to move as the police tore into view, racing down the road. Grant’s knife tilted and swooped down on Spee as she stumbled, off-balance from her failed assault.

Brendan grabbed his brother’s wrist as the blade sunk up to the hilt in Spee’s throat. Blood poured out from under Grant’s hand, streaming down Spee’s neck. Cars screeched to a halt. Doors opened and voices shouted. Spee slid off the blade and sank to the dirt, her blood splashing in the dying grass.

More voices shouted. The brothers stood frozen, eyes locked.

Grant moved his free hand, trying to get both hands on his knife. Brendan kicked out his knee and drove Grant’s wrist up, ramming the knife into his neck hard enough to crack his skull against the truck’s driveshaft. Grant’s jaw dropped open and his eyes rolled up into his head. Without hesitation, Brendan threw his brother aside. Grant collapsed, unconscious and bleeding out rapidly.

Kill confirmed, Brendan dropped to his knees and carefully inspected Spee, who still blinked slowly. Her face held the expression of disbelief that he’d seen many times on those without much time left in the world of the living.

“Michelle—”

“Hush, Casey.” He gently guided the matted hair off her face as she tried to whisper to him, the blood gurgling in her throat. “Don’t you worry about Michelle. She’s going to pull through, and so are you.”

“No—” she moaned as her eyes went wide.

Strong arms locked onto Brendan and hefted him backwards, clearing the path for the paramedics. Special Agent Casey Spee of the Drug Enforcement Administration blinked no more.

Chapter 51

“Hey, you.”

Michelle looked up groggily and managed a weak smile. “Hey, Tenny.”

Brendan shifted forward in his chair and gently took her pale hand. With all the blood loss, she was almost as white as the hospital bed sheets. Her head was tilted up a little by the bed, and also supported by a large pillow.

“How you feeling?”

She blinked slowly, keeping her eyes closed for a few seconds before opening them again. “Like I got shot in the ass.”

“Luckily your ass is still in one piece.”

“The doctor said I was lucky to be alive, ass or no ass.”

Brendan nodded solemnly. “I’m no expert, but I was worried you wouldn’t make it. I’ve seen guys die from less.” He stroked her hand. “You’re one tough lady.”

“You know it.”

Michelle needed rest, and Brendan knew that, but so many questions remained unanswered for him. “When I told you the DEA agents had been kidnapped, you knew it was Spee. How did you know that?”

“Hmm?”

“You knew Spee was out at the cabin with Grant. Were you an informant for her, too?”

She focused on his face, looking much more alert suddenly. “You can’t tell anyone,” she said under her breath. “Grant’s guys are still out there.”

“Sure, sure. No problem. You should probably sleep now.”

“What happened to Spee?” Michelle pulled her hand out of his, placing it on her stomach. “The other agent only told me that Grant had been killed. He wouldn’t even tell me how, not until the investigation is closed.”

Brendan had sat up for most of two nights reliving the moment when his brother killed Casey. Thirty-six hours after the incident, he still couldn’t believe he’d been so close to saving her, yet pitifully too late. All the training, all the missions, none of it had prepared him for that instant in time when he’d failed miserably.

“Grant killed Agent Spee.”

Michelle didn’t visibly react. “Oh.”

The pair absorbed the silence. A nurse poked her head in to take Michelle’s vitals and to ask her a couple of simple questions. Before leaving, she requested that Brendan alert someone if Michelle fell asleep and woke back up again, or if she needed to use the bathroom.

When the nurse left, Michelle spoke up. “You probably think I’m a horrible person.”

“No—”

“It wasn’t until Sadie was born that I realized how bad I was.” Her voice drifted far, far away. “And then my cousin Dale died.”

“Dale?”

“Scott’s brother,” she mumbled. “Supposed to be a simple OD, but I didn’t believe that. Grant was too crazy when he got angry, and people got hurt.” She gave him a knowing glance. “Dale probably screwed up a deal and Grant killed him.”

“Did you tell anyone else about this?”

Michelle ignored him. “I don’t even know if those Mexicans trying to rape me and Kim was real. Grant was real messed up in the head. He could’ve set that all up to make me fall in love with him.”

“I don’t know about all that, Michelle.”

The tears started, and neither person made a move to wipe them away. “Spee’s dead because I didn’t call and tell where Grant had her,” she moaned. Brendan recalled that he hadn’t been able to call it in either. “But I only had her cell number, so I was helpless. I’m useless.”

Brendan crouched next to the bed and pulled the oily hair off her face. She’d grown a few more wrinkles since they were kids, but she still looked about the same. One time she’d fallen off a horse and broken her arm, eliciting the same tears she cried now. Brendan had consoled her then, and here he was doing so again.

“That’s not your fault.” Her sobs slowed down as she paid him some attention. “You got out there as fast as you could and tried to help them. What else could you have done?”

She nodded and sniffed wetly. A tissue box sat on a small table, so Brendan passed her a tissue to blow her nose. That done, she settled down and sighed deeply.

“Mom told me you were hanging out with Kim.”

“I was.”

“Do you like her?”

“Yes.”

“Take her away from here.” She turned her head toward his. “Promise me.”

Brendan mulled over his response before opening his mouth. “I’d like to give that a shot, but she’s pretty damn pissed about us having sex.”

“I’ll clean that up,” she said. “Just promise me you’ll take her away. She deserves more than living in Mom’s garage, and this place is dangerous now. Just because Grant’s gone, that doesn’t mean the senseless violence will just stop.”