Six Bullets: A Historical Lesbian Noir Romance Thriller (Whiskey and Wings Book 2) by Gabby Ghoulie

Author:Gabby Ghoulie [Ghoulie, Gabby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2025-10-23T18:30:00+00:00

9

Chapter 9

The car rattled down the rutted road. Red didn’t look but she was sure the second car behind them was getting good and dusted. It was filled with Nazis like the car she was riding it so she could live with it. Ingrid rode silent in the front next to the driver named Katz.

Sly’s hand found Red’s, hesitant at first, then steady. Red didn’t look at her, didn’t need to — the warmth in her palm was enough to tell her what words couldn’t. Sure, Red was going to get the chair, but the poor kid was going to the belly of the beast. Red felt so torn. The comfort, the human touch of a human that cared was like a breath of fresh air to her soul. But that kind person was also paying a price. Red wished above all she could have changed that.

Red thought of ’16, the night before her gang was cut down. She just knew something bad was going to happen so she vanished into the night. The next job they had ran into a wall of cops on the side of the road. They sprayed the car with bullets without even trying to capture them alive. Death for them all, and she was almost going to be among them. She’d carried that truth ever since: every year, every job, every scar on her hide was borrowed time.

She told herself all of it was a gift. That each morning she’d cheated fate was enough. But then Sly came along, stubborn as a rattler and sharp enough to see through her shadows. Now that same gift felt heavier, costlier. Sitting here, side by side, Red wondered if fate had been saving her up for this — not to outlast the law, but to meet this reporter who kept holding her hand like she was worth holding on to.

If only time had been different. If only this sharp-eyed, soft-handed reporter had been her age. What if she was the one with her that night her parents barged in. What would it have been like to be seventeen and not alone? To have someone who didn’t flinch, didn’t run cold, didn’t betray her the moment the heat came down?

She could see it so clearly she almost believed it: two girls, backs against the world, daring anyone to tell them they had weren’t real. A love that might have made her strong enough to stand instead of fleeing into the night with nothing but shame in her gut.

The thought was about to split her in two. Because Sly was here now — the right girl, wrong time. The one her teenage self had cried for in silence. And Red, at thirty-two with her scars and sins, had nothing to offer but a story headed for the chair.

Sly’s thumb brushed once across her knuckles. Red turned her face to the window, blinking hard against the sting in her eyes. She couldn’t tell her. Not yet. Not when the road ahead already led to goodbye.

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