“Do you have a better idea?” he cocks his head, nostrils flaring.
“I-I haven’t had a chance to talk to Tammy. I don’t…”
“There’s no need for that now,” he whispers, looking past the bar at Kevin, fidgeting and jerking to free himself. “Tammy doesn’t have to know we had anything to do with it, he’s clearly already on something.”
I blow out a breath, somewhat relieved. “Okay, but if he dies here how will we get his body down the..?”
“We won’t have to,” his eyes come back to mine, “he can walk out on his own.”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper, as Kevin curses and struggles in the other room. “I thought you were going to give him a lethal dose.”
“I am, it just won’t happen right away,” he takes my hand. “Are you okay with this?”
I give him a slow nod and swallow. “H-How long will it take?”
“Five, maybe six minutes. Long enough for him to get in his car and leave,” he lets go and reaches for something in a cabinet behind me. “Hold onto this,” he says, handing me a pistol. “We’ll have to force him to drink it, it’s the only way.”
“Jesus,” I look down at the silver gun, heavy in my palm. “I’ve never shot one of these before.”
“All you have to do is pull the trigger,” he whispers, “but be careful, it’s ready to fire,” he takes it from my hand. “Here, hold it like this,” he instructs, keeping his finger away from the trigger and gives it back to me. “And, Elise,” he locks eyes with me, “if that asshole so much as looks at you wrong, do not hesitate to shoot.”
Holy hell.
I start to tremble and he notices, taking my face between his hands. “It’s going to be okay, Elise,” he softly kisses my cheek. “He won’t feel a thing.”
I open my eyes and look up, giving Ascot a small nod and he reaches for my hand. We walk together back to the living room and Kevin straightens up, eyes wide with fear.
“Holy fuck.” he whispers, staring down at the gun in my hand. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt anybody,” he falls back on the sofa, using his feet to scoot further away. “I-I swear if you let me g-go, I won’t bother her again.”
“Okay, you’ve got a deal,” Ascot says, cocking his head. “But there is one condition.”
Kevin’s face clears. “What?” his eyes flash back and forth from Ascot to me. “I’ll-I’ll do anything—anything.”
Ascot reaches in his pocket and holds the vial of blood between his thumb and middle finger. “I’m gonna need you to drink this.”
Kevin shakes his head. “What, why? W-What is it?”
“It will make you forget all of this,” Ascot lies. “We can’t have you going to the police. Tammy and Camilla deserve peace.”
Kevin glances up at me and then at the gun I’m still pointing at him, the wheels in his head turning as he contemplates. He knows he doesn’t have a choice. “Oh-okay,” he nods. “Untie me and I’ll drink it.”
Ascot smirks, shaking his head. “I’ll untie you after,” he pops the rubber lid off and moves closer. “Open your mouth.”
Kevin’s lips twist and I can tell he’s going to put up a fight, so I step next to Ascot, giving him a “don’t fuck with me,” look. His eyes go wide and he opens his mouth.
“Arch your neck and stick out your tongue,” Ascot instructs, touching the vial to Kevin’s lips and abruptly empties the blood into his mouth. He immediately gags, spitting remnants onto the carpet.
“Jesus, what the fuck was that?” he asks, his voice suddenly hoarse.
Ascot takes out a pocketknife and cuts the rope at Kevin’s feet and he stands up. “Turn around,” Ascot instructs and I move in front so Kevin sees the gun I’m now pointing at his chest.
Smartly, Kevin obeys then suddenly doubles over in pain. “I-I think I’m gonna be sick.”
Ascot rushes over and opens the door. “Well, do it somewhere else,” he says, as Kevin staggers out, using the wall to keep him steady.
Sounds of gagging and feet stumbling make me wince as Ascot closes the door, watching him through the peephole. “He’s going down the stairs now,” he whispers and he looks over to me. “I’m gonna follow him and make sure he gets in his car.”
“Okay,” I move closer and hand him the gun. “You might need this.”
Ascot gives me a quick nod, slipping the pistol in the waist of his pants and sprints after him.
I move to the window, looking down at the parking lot. They haven’t made it out yet so I wait. A moment later I catch a glimpse of Ascot helping Kevin to his truck. They stumble when Kevin almost falls, but Ascot manages to steady him and opens the driver’s side door. Kevin gets one foot in and sits down hard as Ascot pushes his head down to clear the hood.
The truck starts and the brake lights flash red, the windshield wipers flap on high back and forth. Ascot backs away when the truck jerks into reverse. Suddenly, the truck’s back end fish tails, taking off too fast, and nearly side swiping my car before plowing head on into a large, metal dumpster.
The loud boom makes me jump and I cover my mouth as heavy, black smoke instantly billows from the hood of the truck.
Dear God, what have we done?
Chapter Fifteen
Ascot comes flying through the front door a moment later just as Tammy peeks her head into the hallway.
“What was that?” she whispers, heading straight toward me. “Where’s Kevin?”
I glance up at Ascot, still panting from sprinting up three flights. “I-I don’t know how to tell you this but…”
“He left,” Ascot cuts me off.
Tammy’s brows go up, shocked. “What? How did you get him to…?” she pauses, eyes going straight to the gun Ascot is still holding. “Oh my God, what did you do?”
“Nothing!” I say, trying to keep my voice down so Camilla won’t hear. “He didn’t use it.”
“What was that loud boom? It sounded like it came from outside.” Tammy asks, walking past me to the window, the sounds of distant sirens begin to echo. Her eyes go wide as she stares at the mangled vehicle, engulfed in black smoke and still lodged halfway into the metal dumpster. “Oh my god, is that Kevin’s truck?”
“I’m afraid so,” Ascot whispers, “I tried to get him to stay and sober up but he was too angry, mumbling something about telling the cops he found you and Camilla.” Tammy gasps, hands going over her mouth. “He left too quickly,” Ascot continues, “I just couldn’t catch up to him in time.”
“Dear god,” she whispers, looking back down at the wreckage. “We, we need to see if he’s okay,” she blinks several times, looking back and forth to us, “he needs help!”
“Do you hear the sirens?” Ascot asks, his tone gentle and kind. “The cops are already on their way,” he glances back down at the thick, black smoke. “I’ll go and talk to them,” he takes my hand and squeezes. “They’re going to have questions.”