Part 80 (2/2)
”Just Tom,” Annja said.
”And Sheila? Who killed her?”
”My friend. The one who died tonight.”
The man laughed. ”Sounds like you guys had quite the party up in the sticks. Anyone left alive?”
”You mean Dave.”
”You know about Dave, too, huh?”
”Yes.”
”All right, is he still breathing?”
”Not after Tom used a shotgun on him.”
The man whistled. ”I always knew that guy had more than a few screws loose. Shotgun, huh? Messy.”
”I had to clean it up.”
He smiled. ”Was that before or after you killed Tom?”
”Before.”
”No s.h.i.+t.”
He looked around. Six bodies were spread out near the car they'd driven up in. The stench of death hung in the air, a tension of violence still eager for one last victim to call its own.
”Just you and me now, huh?” the man said.
Annja nodded. ”Not for much longer.”
”That's some blade. How come I didn't see it when I got into the truck with you?”
”It was raining.”
”So you gonna do me with that the way you did my guys? Stab me through the heart? Some sort of symbolic death?”
Annja shook her head. ”Nope.”
”You're not?”
Annja nodded at the truck. ”I think I've got some stuff that belongs to you.”
The man regarded her for a minute and then walked over to the Tahoe. Annja gripped the sword in her right hand and eased the back door open with her left. Inside, piles of bags filled with cocaine lay on the floor.
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