14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

"Hold still!" I shout, lining the nail up with the top of Nester's fingernail.

The spot where the nail meets the skin is especially sensitive and one of my favorite places to nail a nail through. He's shaking so hard his hand won't stay flat on the table.

"I'm t-trying!" he shouts back, drool flying everywhere.

I shake my head, press the nail tip harder on his fingernail, and rear the hammer back. One good hard thrust and it's halfway in. Nester howls in pain, squirming off the chair and pulling on his hand, which only causes him more pain since there's a nail holding it to his desk. Moron.

Freddy, the guy I'm assigned with and the only guy I can actually stand to work with, laughs as he holds the gun to Nester's head.

"Should've just paid the money," Freddy says.

"It's n-not m-my fault! My d-daughter had emergenc-c-cy surgery!"

The guy's face is a fucking mess. All full of snot and tears and saliva like a toddler. It's disgusting. He's probably a good guy, but it's not my job to worry about that. I'm collecting payments today, and all I care about is money. This guy doesn't have it, so he's got to pay one way or another.

"That should come out of your own pocket, asshole. Not the Bellanca's," I add, picking a nail from the messy pile on the desk.

"I'll have the money on Friday!"

"Which is why you're not dead, Nester," I say as I line up another nail.

"Please! Pl—ah! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

This one only goes in halfway too. I need to practice my swing. I chuckle as I rear the hammer back and hit the second nail the rest of the way in.

"Be grateful this is all you're getting," Freddy says. "You could have a hole in your head instead."

When I'm done nailing all five fingers to the desk, Freddy and I gather our stuff and leave the office, going out the back door of the restaurant and into his SUV.

"Where to next?" I ask.

"Laundromat."

"Spinnikers?"

"Yep."

"Fucking hate this guy."

Freddy raises a brow, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. "Pretty sure you don't like anyone."

"Mostly true."

I mess with the radio to find a good station. The laundromat is at least a twenty-minute drive and silence leaves too much room for my thoughts to wonder. Mostly back to that psychopath, which I'm trying to avoid.

"Wanna grab food after this one?" he asks.

"Sure. I could eat."

I pull out my phone as Pearl Jam plays over the radio and open up my emails to see if I have anything from Banks yet. I obsessively check multiple times a day. Still nothing. I move on to my browser and search for the Piano Man to see if there are any new victims. Nothing. Just the same articles I've already read through five times. Doesn't stop me from reading through them again until a text pops up from Reese.

Reese: THREE MOTHERFUCKING DAYS!!!!!!

I swear this guy is a giant manchild. How he's getting married to a woman he didn't pay, I'll never understand. His dick must be magical, because his personality is no better than a middle schooler. Obsessing over fart jokes and sexual innuendos.

I stare at the text for a long time, my chest doing something strange. It's an odd feeling. Unsettled. Unnerved. I'm not really sure how to express it. Other people's excitement makes me uncomfortable on a normal day, never mind when it's about something I don't understand. Why would anyone ever want to get married? How do you tolerate someone for that long? I can hardly handle runs with Freddy, and I like him. There's no way I could handle being legally bound to a single person in this world. Going to bed with the same person every night. Waking up with them. Sharing meals. And it's not about sharing my space, it's just always having someone around. Like a damn chore. Too many expectations and obligations.

So yeah, weddings make me uncomfortable, and so does Reese because he's a ball of energy that grates on my nerves. But I tell myself I'm not backing out of this. He's my cousin and he needs my support. He wants me to be there. Plus, I need the small vacation I'm getting out of it. I only have to deal with Reese for one day out of the three I'm staying there. Just one. I can totally do that.

I lock my phone without answering him back. How the hell do you respond to such a ridiculous text? I drop my phone into the center console and stare out the window for the rest of the drive.

"So what's up with you? What's been going on?" Freddy asks before biting into his double bacon cheeseburger.

"Same shit. You?"

He shakes his head, picking up a napkin to wipe off the sauce dripping down his chin. Freddy and I have worked together before but it's been a while. Remington does this weird thing where he puts different people out on runs together to make sure we all get along. I can't figure out what the fuck the deal with it is. Every other time I've worked for people, everyone has a set partner. Whoever it is they work best with to ensure we get shit done. This fucker puts people who hate each other together and expects their runs to go smoothly. He's a fucking baboon with too much power.

"You seem off today," he comments.

"Off how?" I take a bite of my own burger—swiss and extra mushrooms.

"Can't explain it. Just a feeling."

I shrug. "I'm good. A little tired maybe."

I know I'm off. I feel it. But how the fuck does he? We're hardly close.

"You looking for the P-man?"

"P-man?" I laugh. God that sounds ridiculous. Like he's pissing on his victims or something. "Is that what they're calling him?"

"Sometimes. Just easier to say than The Piano Man."

I'm not sure why I don't want anyone to know that I'm going hard looking for this guy. Alright, not so much looking for him, but counting on the bounty. Part of me fears if people know how badly I want it, they'll try even harder and succeed. I can't get comfortable and forget I'm not the only one after this guy. Someone else could take him out before I do. Sure, I think I have the upper hand, but what if Sev is doing this shit with every one of us? I'd never know. The emotion that fills my chest is not one I'm willing to entertain. He seems like the type who would get off on chasing multiple people, and I don't like that thought.

This is all supposed to be for me.

"I was going to, but haven't had much luck," I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Much luck, meaning I haven't had a good opportunity to end him yet. Though we've been in the same room multiple times, it hasn't felt right. I also need to remember that what I'm doing is illegal. If I'm caught, I'm fucked. There are so many things to take into consideration. It isn't as simple as kill him and collect the money. Though, I wish it were.

"Quite a few of us are in the same boat. Not a single scrap to go on. Even the FBI has shit."

I smirk, enjoying that they have nothing. Meaning, I really am in the lead. "You got people on the inside?"

His eyes shine with mischief. "Don't you?"

"Of course."

Trust everyone and no one all at once.

Freddy's phone makes a strange jingling sound, and he smiles. "Speak of the devil." He wipes his hands on a disposable napkin and pulls his phone out.

"What devil?"

He pulls something up on his phone and hands it over. It's an article.

Murderer Strikes a Sour Note: Piano Man at it Again!

"My brother is a big tech guy. Set it up so I get an alert every time there's a new story about him. Where's he hit this time?" He nods his head toward me, grabbing a few fries and shoving them in his mouth.

This is cool as shit, honestly.

"Miami."

"Fuck. His last hit was in Ohio."

"Guy is all over the place." I hand him his phone back, not having any interest in reading the article. At least, not in front of Freddy where he could judge me for being too interested. "You think he's getting people they aren't finding? Maybe they're missing pieces and that's why they can't find a pattern."

"No way. This guy is cocky. He makes sure they know. He's like an upgraded Zodiac killer." He locks his phone and puts it down, grabbing his burger to bite into it.

If I were a mafia head, I'd be terrified. Though, maybe I should be terrified anyway. The guy is hunting me, after all.