Chapter Sixty-Five

NICK LISTENED, WAITING, hearing only her breathing. He knew what would come next. An enveloping whump as the bullet entered his brain, splitting his skull, closing him in blessed blackness. Or her voice. Her hips were on his, her legs straddling him. They’d been in this position before, a million years ago, earlier this same day. In Nick’s bed. He put his hands on her thighs and remembered, relished the absurdity of it all.

“We can’t go back to the house,” she said finally. Relief, temporary but still delicious, washed over him, competing with the pain of his shattered knee. “They’ll kill us. Driver will know I took out his guys. I—”

“You think I’m dumb enough to keep that kind of money in the house?” Nick asked.

She was silent. His head spun, pain and blood loss already dragging at him.

“You’re bullshitting me,” she finally said.

“You must have searched my room while I was sleeping, right?” Nick asked. “Didn’t find it. So if I’d stashed it in the house, it must have been somewhere outside my own room. You think I’m that stupid? I’d leave it where it could be discovered by another guest? We have strangers coming in and out of the house every week. It would be too risky.”

“You could have hidden it anywhere,” Breecher said. Her voice was quivering. The phone was still dinging, insanely fast, as person after person discovered and shared Nick’s confession video, the horror of what they’d done. “You… you probably stuffed the million dollars in a safe-deposit box somewhere.”

“It’s in these woods,” Nick said.

“Bullshit!”she roared, jamming the gun in his jaw so hard his teeth clacked together. “Bullshit, Nick. Why in the name of God would I trust you now?”

“Because you have to!” Nick said. “You’re done, Breecher. It’s over. It’s over for you! You thought you were desperate before? Try being on the run for covering up a goddamn massacre of civilians. By tomorrow morning, all our faces will be on every television screen in America. They will never stop looking for you.”

“I don’t trust you,” she sobbed suddenly.

“Trust your instincts then,” Nick said. “Why would I put the money in a safe-deposit box? Or a bank? Why would I put it somewhere it could be discovered by other people? I wouldn’t do that. You know me. I’m not an idiot. I’d put it somewhere that I could access it quickly, in case you or Dorrich or Master ever did what I just did and told the whole world our little secret. I would put it in a bug-out bag here in these woods. You know that. It’s the smartest thing to do.”

She was quiet again. Calculating. Nick gripped her thighs and willed himself not to pass out.

“Is it far?” she asked.

“No.”

“So show me.”

“You’ll have to help me up,” Nick gasped.

“No way.” Breecher got up and kicked him over. “You can crawl like the rat you are.”