Free Blood Abandon (Donald Holley Book 1) by Avery Stites

of  a community park. It was just after midnight. I pulled into the park, drove back by the field and parked the Tahoe. I observed the surroundings for a few minutes, and after I was satisfied no one was around, I exited the Tahoe. I walked around to Gerald’s side, opened the door, and he stumbled out. I closed the passenger door and leaned him against the side of the vehicle.
    He had lost a decent amount of blood from his hand, and his breathing was weaker. He was tired and in shock. I stepped back from him and looked at him for several moments. He said nothing, and after a few seconds he let his head fall to his chest, his hands bound in front of him.
    “Do it,” he said.
    “You aren’t getting off that easy,” I said.
    He looked up. “Why are you fucking with me? If you are going to kill me, just do it.”
    I shook my head. “No, that’s not how this works. You had your chance to finish our relationship as brothers, and you screwed it up. Now, it’s my turn.”
    “So you want me to beg for my life?” he rasped. “Will that make you feel powerful?”
    “No,” I said. “I’m going to give you the dignity of a choice, something you didn’t give me.”
    His eyes narrowed. I pulled the hunting knife from my waistband. I tossed it on the ground in front of him. The field was illuminated by moonlight only; the sound of cars on the highway and the bustle of the border were audible through the trees. Gerald bent down and picked up the knife.
    “You can cut your hands free with that.”
    He grabbed the blade from the ground and used it to cut his hands free of the nylon binding. When he was done, he asked me what was going on.
    “I’m giving you the following option: you can go through the trees, toward the border, and cross over into Mexico. I’ll even give you a thousand dollars in cash from the bag. Once you do, you can never, ever come back. But be forewarned: Tijuana is not the most gringo-friendly place, though. Especially with no I.D., and a wad of cash...oh, and when you are bleeding.”
    “What?”
    “You heard me clearly. I’m offering you the dignity of your own choice. You can’t go back, especially now with your fingerprints on the murder weapon in your apartment. And you are a felon? That’s it for you. But even if you wanted that choice, you won’t get it. I won’t let you get off of this field.”
    “What about my daughter? She’ll grow up without a father.”
    “That’s not a card for you to play. She already doesn’t have a father. At least, after the phone call, she’ll at least think you tried.” I thought of his daughter; she deserved better than she had received. “You don’t deserve to know this, but Kate and Marie will be receiving some of the money in that bag. That’s your surprise for her.”
    He looked at me, bewildered. “You are going to give my daughter some of the money I stole from you?” He couldn’t believe it.
    “Yes, I am.” I pulled the SIG Sauer from my waistband. “You know what else really bothers me? You haven’t asked one time what the surprise for her is since you made that call. That just reinforces my belief about what type of person you are.”
    “And what kind of person is that?”
    I considered my words. “The only reason you haven’t suffered more than you could comprehend is that you are my blood. But you aren’t my brother any longer. The fact that the choice I’ve given you is to completely disappearing into isolation and the unknown is a strong indicator of how much I don’t care for you any longer.” I motioned toward the border. “It’s time to get going.”
    “And what if I don’t do it?” he asked.
    “Then you will die on this field,” I said.
    Gerald leaned back against the vehicle, fumbling with the knife. After a few moments, he stopped and looked toward the trees, lost in thought. The sounds of the border created a dull roar in the background, almost like an atmospheric swell. The moon painted us both a pale