States of Grace, Mandy Miller [uplifting novels .txt] 📗

to his dealing.” I pause. “How am I doing so far?”

“Not bad, not bad at all.”

“Thing was, Sinclair got popped again. This time at Sunshine Pain. By FDLE, not FLPD, so you had no control over him. Once a rat, always a rat, correct? You we’re afraid he’d sell you out, and maybe even cough up the fact that Slim’s running the pill mills as a highly profitable side hustle to his fancy plastic surgery practice. Joe did see Sinclair there arguing with Slim. Maybe he wanted Slim to pay him to keep his mouth shut. Maybe too much.”

“Well done. But how do you think I figure in this operation?”

“The ‘we’ you talked about back at South Beach, that’s you and Anton Slim.”

He shrugs. “You tell me.”

“You said it yourself—money is your only motivator. And where’s the money in this picture? In Slim’s deep pockets. And where does that money come from? His cash cow – his pill mill empire. You took a page out of Sinclair’s book and extorted Slim to keep hush-hush.”

“So clever of you to figure all that out.”

“The one way to keep the gravy train running for everyone was to get rid of Sinclair. And you kept it all in the family and took care of him yourself.”

“And was rewarded handsomely, I might add.”

He strolls to the window and gazes into the distance. “Greed is such an unappealing quality in a business partner. Sinclair kept wanting more and more, until it was no longer sustainable. So, neither was he.”

He shoves the gun in his waistband and pulls a baggie of blue pills and a syringe filled with water from his pocket along with a length of rubber tubing. “But you’re missing one crucial piece of the puzzle.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” I say, straining against the ties, which causes the chair to fall on its side and me to hit my head.

“You’re forgetting about the lovely Serena,” he says, looking down at me on the floor.

“She knew about what Sinclair was doing, given she was sleeping with him. You killed her too.”

“Close, but not exactly. That one was Slim. Do you know why?”

I buck my shoulders, trying, unsuccessfully, to right the chair.

“You’re a little pale. You feeling okay? Don’t worry, you’ll feel all better soon enough. Now Serena, there was a smart girl. Didn’t even take time to mourn the poor fool. Just took over Sinclair’s business right where he left off. But, as tends to happen, when there’s lots of cash flying around, she got greedy too.”

I focus on a pelican outside, suspended in midair by the thermals high over the pulsing Gulf Stream. “What made you go bad, Sonny?”

“I was always bad. Bad’s in my blood. I’m just better at hiding it than the rest of my family. You just couldn’t see it. You were blinded with your nemesis, Reilly. And he did make for a nice distraction.”

“You’re despicable.”

He kneels down beside me, his lower lip in a pout. “You know what you get for all your big words and high-minded bullshit about the truth? You get to be dead.”

My vision narrows to the tubing being stretched around my left arm to make a tourniquet above my left elbow, under my tattoo.

“This’ll look like just another unhappy ending for one more junkie.”

He licks several of the blue pills to remove the time-release coating, so they’ll take immediate effect, crushes them to a fine dust on the window sill, and sweeps the mound of powder onto a spoon.

My grip on reality slipping away like an outgoing tide.

Squirting the water from the syringe onto the powder.

Mixing the powder with a pinkie finger.

Dipping needle into liquid.

Pulling the plunger back.

Chamber filling.

Syringe gripped between his teeth.

Flicking the flesh to find a willing vein.

Needle piercing skin.

Overwhelming sense of warmth and well-being.

Tubing falling away.

Door slamming.

Fade to black.

Chapter 34

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Dear Jesus, please let her live.”

I will my eyes to open.

“Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe!”

The voice—familiar, comforting.

Lids apart. A face. Familiar, like the voice, but it’s shape-shifting like an image in a fun house mirror.

Must get up!

“Relax, Gracie, relax,” says another face.

Bongo beat pounding in my chest.

First voice: “What’d you give her?”

The second face: “Narcan.”

“Stay with me, Gracie.”

“M— Manny?”

“Yes, it’s me. And Vinnie, too,” Manny says, easing me to a seated position.

Vinnie in my peripheral vision, grabbing my hand. “It’s me, sweetheart, everything’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

I blink hard to clear my vision.

The busted-up screen.

“No!”

Oscar bobbing in the ocean.

“Where’d he go?” I mumble.

“Who?” Vinnie asks.

Arms around me, Manny supports my weight as Vinnie rights the chair.

Tubing tied tight, veins distended like tree roots bursting out of the ground.

“He left me…he…here to die,” I rasp, my throat parched.

“You’re safe now.”

“No. Need to go!”

“We’re going, okay? We’re taking you to a hospital.”

Manny pulling me close. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

The scent of him, woody, calming.

“I didn’t,” I say as he unties the tubing. “It was him.”

Vinnie in my face. “Who? It was who? Who did this to you?”

I gag, a wave of nausea churning in my gut. “Sonny.”

“The blond cop?”

I manage a nod.

“We’ll get that rat bastard!”

One on each arm, we hobble to the door. “How…How’d you know I was here?”

“When I stopped by last night, Vinnie was in a panic. Said you’d been gone way longer than usual on your run.”

“Miranda was going nuts. Wouldn’t stop barking. We searched everywhere for you. Called everyone we could think of.”

“You came by?” I ask Manny.

“You said I could come over, remember?”

“Thank God he did! He thought he might know where you’d go if—”

“I didn’t…relapse.”

Manny brushes my hair back. “We know.”

“Why’d you need to see me?”

Manny hooks an arm under mine and hauls me up onto my good leg. “Not important right now. We need to get you to a hospital.”

“How’d you? I w…wa…was gone. Supposed to di…”

Manny jerks his chin at the empty spray bottle of Narcan. “Had it in my car, from before. Brought it out here. Just in case.”

Vinnie