Page 19 of Reckless Woman

“Why are you letting that twister spin all alone, little brother?”

When he speaks, his voice is coming from the seat behind me.

“Not now, Cash,” I mutter, watching the droplets of rain on the cabin window streak across the glass like speeding bullets.

“Bad men shuffle the cards of love to the bottom of the deck, Joey. Guess you had them twisted bones all along, just like Pa said you did.”

“Good to know I’m living up to his expectations.”

The rest of my whiskey vanishes, and I pour another.

“You shouldn’t have gone to Bill’s that day,” he chides, reaching so deep inside my walls I can feel my foundations shaking. “You shouldn’t have left us all alone with him.”

“Bullshit,” I hiss. “You told me to run. If I’d stayed, he would have killed me, too.”

But the guilt of that decision is punching me in the gut. My justification sounds as empty as my glass.

“You could have stopped him.”

“Quit it, Cash!”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll be shooting myself in the head just to shut you up!”

He laughs. “You’re going to lose this one as well, little brother...you’re the reason she’ll die.”

I freeze.

“Because shewilldie. Theyalldie. You’re a fucking death magnet. Always have been. Santiago saw it in Afghanistan, and he’s been ridin’ it ever since.”

“Stop,” I rasp.

“Dead like your dead wife.”

A fresh pain explodes in my chest.Not now. Not here.But Cash is all out of mercy tonight. He leans forward in his seat to deliver his next words.

“Dead like your deadson.”

I see his face the day he was born. A year later he was gone.

“Dust and bones, little brother.” Cash cackles. “We’re all just dust and bones and we’re waiting to see you again. Everyone you’ve ever killed—heck, there’s a whole goddamn army down here.”

“Shut the fuck up!” I roar, chucking my glass at the cabin wall. It shatters on impact, sending shards in every direction. The co-pilot emerging from the cockpit curses in shock.

No one moves.

Silence smothers.

“You going to clean that up?” he says eventually. “I’m not a fucking air attendant.”

I consider slitting his throat, and then I think better of it.

Bending down, I close my fist around a jagged piece of broken glass, feeling the slice of satisfaction on my skin.

Pain is good.

Pain keeps me grounded.