Savage (A Blood Feud Novel)

Chapter Forty-Four

Rachel was breathing excitingly. She had the bag full of money in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Shea, with the ski mask on, was holding a Katana sword that Rachel had given him even when he requested for a gun. But like she always had on the men around her, she had a hold on him.

It was nearly pitch black outside at the graveyard. Shea felt spooked about it. He didn't like cemeteries; in fact, he hated everything that had to do with death and darkness. Shea still was wondering what was going there.

James was a good friend, but not to the extent that he would kill for him. But then Shea was the reluctant one, never the type to object even if he felt strongly about it. There was still time to get out, to find a way out of this mess. It seemed remote now with each second passing.

"I fucking hate this place," Shea muttered.

"What'd you say?" Rachel asked.

Shea gave no reply. Rachel continued walking. They were approaching a gravestone.

The tombstone had the engraved name SHEILA SAVAGE. Shea breathed heavily through the mask. He checked the time. It was a half hour past three.

"Alright, they should be here soon," Rachel said. "As I said earlier we split up. I go the right over there, and you can stay at the left. I'll surprise the bastards with the flashlight. That's when you pull the trigger on them."

"So, wait, you mean you want me to kill them?" Shea asked. He was in no mood for going back to jail.

"Well, yeah," Rachel said. "That's the plan."

"I thought you said you were going to surprise them. You never said anything about killing," Shea said with a shudder.

"That's what I meant by surprising them," Rachel said with a shrug. "Get on with it, alright?"

"Rachel, hasn't you had enough bloodshed already?"

"What now Sean, you're trying to fuck off on me?"

"Fuck, I'm not going to kill someone!"

Rachel glared at Shea.

"We've already agreed on this, remember?"

"I didn't agree to kill anyone," Shea said.

Rachel was frustrated. She wished James was there with her; Shea was a loser. Shea continued shaking his head; he wasn't thrilled about the whole thing.

"Look at me," Rachel snapped. "Those bastards have your friend who I'm sure is already dead, and since we're talking of Cleaver, then he killed him gruesomely. You're going to help me slaughter whoever is coming."

All Shea could do at her hostile tone was to nod in agreement. They split up as Rachel proposed.

Along the way Shea grumbled, he didn't want to be here, with Rachel in the fucking graveyard.