Chapter 65

65

Wayne wasn't stupid. His sins…were catching up with him now. He was dying. He had seen enough bullet wounds to know—he wasn't going to survive this. Even if the hospital wasn't at least forty miles away like it was here in this godforsaken place he had been born so long ago.

Born here. Sin here. Die here . Maybe there was some sort of poetic irony in that.

Someone was there.

"Well, looks like karma can be a bitch, huh pal?"

Wayne forced his head to turn. Of course. It would be him. "Bruce."

"Guess you stepped into it this time." Bruce stepped over Sonny's body. The kid was dead.

The stare was distinctive.

Wayne hurt for that kid. For that innocent little baby right there. In Bruce Tyler's hand. Tyler just kept swinging the carrier rhythmically. The blood-covered carrier.

"Poor kid. Met him a few times. We had a lot in common. I lost two women to that damned drug, Wayne. That drug you helped them get around. I hope everyone you hurt is burning a hole in your soul right now," Tyler said. "Heard good old Sonny had a kid now. Heard that girlfriend of his died from OPJ, too. She was a real sweet kid, barely even twenty. I met her once. She liked Mickey Mouse, and now she's dead. Just dead. Because of that OPJ and soulless, conscienceless men like you."

Bruce looked at the baby in the carrier, who was still crying. "Too pretty to be his kid. Looks like her mama."

"Baby's name…is Katie," Wayne said. "And he loved his daughter."

"Katie? Hot damn." Bruce reached out, put a pacifier in the baby's mouth. "Well, this Katie's probably better off now."

He looked at Wayne. "Sorry about your shitty luck, Wayne. But, well, I am a man who believes we all get what we deserve in the end. Remember that. See you in the afterlife. I'm sure we'll meet again."