Deadly Gamble

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

For a crazy moment I thought he might just give me one of those Elvis smiles. He would come into the room and pick up a magazine. I'd slip the gun back into the drawer unnoticed, then bid him goodnight and get the hell out of there.

It almost worked that way. He stood there watching me for an eternity. Probably about a minute and a half, in reality. I lowered the gun, hoping to put it back where I'd found it. I fumbled for the drawer, unwilling to take my eyes off him. My shaking hand couldn't find it and I backed up. My butt touched the open drawer. It slid quickly closed, causing me to momentarily lose balance.

Josh was at my side instantly. He reached for the weapon with shaky hands and I gave it up. For the first time in my life, I wished I'd listened to Ron's advice about guns. At least I'd know whether it was loaded, whether the safety was on or not. It was a little late now for those kinds of wishes.

"What made you do it, Josh?" Now I could only hope to stall long enough to work out a way to get myself out of this alive.

He shrugged, backing away enough to aim the gun at me. His hands weren't shaking now. His lids were half closed, the dark eyes almost sexy looking. I'd never seen him like this before, but then I'd never seen him after several beers, a violent movie, and with a gun in his hand.

My question still hung in the air. He hadn't ignored it, he was contemplating his answer.

"They were mean to me," he finally said.

"Mean to you?" Mean to you! Is that the answer nowadays? Anytime someone is mean to you, you blow them away?

"My old man used to throw me around. Every time he came home drunk, he'd take it out on me and Mom."

"And your mom? Why did she deserve it?" Or had her big mistake been reaching into that drawer the same way I had?

He laughed, an abrupt chuckle that came out as a snort. "She was no better. Whenever Dad hit me, she'd jump in and pull him away. But when he wasn't around, she'd scream at me, call me stupid, and lazy. She was no different than him."

"And so you're gonna solve it the same way they solved everything. Somebody makes you mad, so you just get violent."

He shrugged again. "They deserved it."

The cold attitude chilled me. I rubbed my goose-pimpled arms.

"What about me?" I asked. "Now you feel you have to get rid of me, too?"

"You haven't ever been mean to me, Charlie," he said. He seemed genuinely puzzled about my remark.

"What about the police, Josh? Sooner or later they'll figure this out." I was careful not to say that I'd tell them.

"I'll get a good lawyer," he said.

So that's what it boiled down to. A good lawyer could find some kind of defense for Josh. It made me furious but I had no doubt of its feasibility. Good lawyers get guilty people off the hook all the time. Right and wrong have ceased to matter. It only matters how good your lawyer is.

"Josh, think about this. You need help, counseling. Let's try to figure out a way."

He stiffened. For the first time since he'd taken the gun from me, I saw anger. It was a cold, unprincipled anger.

"I need to think about this," he growled. "Not with you. Just me, by myself."

He jammed the gun into the waistband of his jeans and, almost in the same move, grabbed a length of nylon climbing rope from the dresser near the door.