I slap Cole on the back. “She’s begging you already, Cole. Fuck! That’s some kind of record, right?” I whistle. But not really. All the women beg to get in his pants. Every girl wants a piece of a GWS.
The wind picks up and tosses her hair around her face, causing it to stick to the blood along her neck and chest. “Red is your color,” he tells her.
“Orange is gonna be yours,” she growls, lifting her chin.
He smiles at her words.
I laugh it off, then have a thought. How much did she see? What the hell is she even doing here? I’ve never seen this girl before. Does she know who we are? Is she related to Jeff, the guy we just killed? As far as I know, he only had one relative—Jerrold. And that fucker is next on our list. “She may have recorded it.”
Cole sighs. “That would be very stupid of you,” he tells her.
He drops the flashlight beside her head. Letting go of her shirt, he sits up, freeing her arms, and she begins to fight him. Her hands slap at his body, and her nails dig into his naked chest before he pins her hands above her head. “Check her pockets,” he orders me.
She screams as she tries to fight him. Her hips buck, and she kicks her legs out, but I pat her pockets and find a cell phone. Fuck! “It’s locked.”
“What’s the passcode?” he demands.
She clamps her mouth shut, and her pretty green eyes narrow. “Either you give me the passcode, or I take it from you. What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?” he threatens.
“I didn’t …”
This bitch isn’t gonna play this game with us. Not tonight. “That’s not the only thing we’re gonna take,” I say, cutting her off. I bend down and unbutton her jeans, then lower her zipper. Knowing her biggest fear and using it to my advantage.
“No!” she cries out. “It’s retina … it’s a retina scanner,” she says in a rush.
“Fucking technology,” I growl. “What happened to the good ole days where you just flipped the phone open, and it fucking worked?” Why would this chick need a retina scanner? I highly doubt she has anything important on her phone that she doesn’t want others to see.
I hold the damn phone up to her face, Cole’s flashlight lies on the ground next to them, shining on her face. It unlocks the phone, and the first place I go to is her photos. They’re the typical girl selfies with the duck face. I go to her videos, and she has none. Strange, but also smart for not recording us.
But who the fuck is she? And why the hell is she hanging out in a cemetery in the middle of the night? On New Year’s of all nights? She should be at a party. Drunk or high. I exit out of her videos and go to her Facebook app. I stare at her name for a few seconds, then frown and squint. This can’t be right … I exit out and then open it back, thinking it will change. It doesn’t.
Shit! I grunt.
“What is it?” he asks, clearly hearing me.
“No videos or pictures, but there is something interesting.” I may not know this girl, but I know my best friend. And she is about to become as fucking dead as Jeff is.
“I tried to tell you. I didn’t record it,” she says, panting.
“What did you find?” he asks, ignoring her.
I take in a long breath and say two words. “Austin Lowes.”
“As in Bruce Lowes?” he asks her.
Silence follows.
He chuckles. “Well, well, well, I didn’t know he had a daughter.”
“We don’t have time for this,” I growl. She’s useless to me at this point. We could have had some fun with her but not anymore. She’s the daughter of the man who raped Cole’s mother and got her pregnant. He’s wanted to make that bastard pay for years, so he’ll make her pay. Not only because of who her dad is, but because of what she saw. I stand and pull my gun out of the back of my pants. “Let’s just kill her.” She’s already dead anyway. He won’t let her walk away. Not after what she saw.
“Put the gun away,” he orders.
He can’t be serious. “But …”
“Now.”
I tuck it back into my pants, biting back a growl. “Let’s take her with us. I don’t trust her not to call the police afterward.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she snaps.
“You’ll do whatever the fuck we say,” I reply flatly.
“She won’t call them,” he tells me as if he knows what this bitch will and won’t do. “Will you?”
She clamps her mouth shut.
I snort. “You don’t fucking know that.”
“No one will believe her,” he says. “She’s covered in his blood. It’s underneath her fingernails from where she scratched my chest. It’s on her clothes. In her hair. As far as they’re concerned, she will be an accessory to murder.”