Tear It Down by Nick Petrie

Author:Nick Petrie [Petrie, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 9780399575662
Google: C5KADwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B07CKFBW65
Barnesnoble: B07CKFBW65
Goodreads: 39999471
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2019-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

32

The skinny kid looked at Peter, his eyes wide. “You should’ve killed him. You know he’d have killed you.”

Peter hated that the logic of gangster Memphis was the same as the logic of the Middle East. “I’d rather not kill anybody if I can help it.”

“They’re coming after us all now. I hope you know what you’re doing, Saltine.”

“I’m saving your life, kid. If you behave.”

The young man’s face was hollow in the darkness of the back seat. “I’m dead no matter what. You’re just drawing out my time.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Peter said. “Where’s my truck?”

The kid looked out the window at the passing streets. “Not far. Not a scratch on it, neither.”

“Good.” Peter still had one big knuckly hand wrapped around the boy’s thin wrist. “Now give me the gun. Slowly, please.”

The kid frowned. Peter could see the gears turning behind his eyes. “Thought I was keeping the gun.”

“I lied.” Peter smiled. “I might reconsider if you aren’t a pain in the ass.”

The kid wasn’t happy about it, but he leaned slowly sideways, the ruined guitar staying on his tilted lap as if of its own volition. When he extracted the little snub-nose from his back pocket, he used his thumb and forefinger, just like Brody had done, and held it out. A fast learner.

“On the floor, by my feet.” The kid gave the gun a little flip and it dropped into Peter’s footwell.

Wanda glanced over her shoulder. She wasn’t driving fast, but she wasn’t all over the road, either. Her double vodka rocks sloshed slightly in an aftermarket cup holder that hung from a heat vent. “Where am I going?”

“This way’s good,” said the kid. “Left on Thomas.”

“How old are you?” Peter was curious.

“None of your damn business.”

“What’s your name?”

For some reason, this was even more outrageous. “Man, why the fuck you want to know my name?”

“I can’t keep calling you Kid. You do have a name, right?”

The kid rolled his eyes in an eloquent statement. “Ellison,” he said. “Ellison Bell.” Then his face went still, as if he’d suddenly walked across a fresh grave. He turned back to the window. “But nobody calls me Ellison no more. You call me Eli.”

“Okay, Eli. I’m Peter. What’d you do to get yourself in this kind of trouble?”

Eli shook his head, the sheen of sorrow and desperation worse now than ever. He seemed to be shrinking into himself. He pulled the shattered remnants of his guitar close to his chest. His voice seemed to come from far away.

“I don’t know.”

“You did something. What was it?”

“Robbed a jewelry store up at the mall.”

“That was you?” Wanda’s voice came sharp from the front seat. “People died.”

Eli nodded. “I didn’t start it, and I didn’t kill nobody. But I did what I did.” He took in a long breath, then let it out. “When it went bad, I was the only one walked away. But I don’t know why King wants me so bad. We were way outside his turf.

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