Free Unholy Code (A Lana Elkins Thriller) by Thomas Waite

and hoes?”
    “You are one sorry son-of-a-bitch,” Bones replied.
    “So I guess the answer is yes. Guess what else? You’re about to be  one dead n—”
    Vinko froze at the sound of a semi-automatic racked inches from his head. Ludmila had the muzzle pointed right at his temple.
    “Put it down,” she said.
    Vinko realized he’d made a huge mistake by taking her for granted.
    “See, she actually loves me, Stinko,” Bones said. “She’ll blow your fucking head off if you so much as blink, so why don’t you do like she says before your dog has to find a new home to go with his new name?”
    Vinko glanced at her without moving his head or gun, hoping to see something that would give him the upper hand. But she’d gotten the drop on him and held a Browning with practiced ease, nice and steady. That was when he realized they would both be witnesses to his killing, should that come to pass. He also knew police would probably believe they’d shot in self-defense because Vinko had threatened Bones before millions of viewers after a bowl victory their senior year. When a post-game interview ended, a pack of photographers had wanted the quarterback and his receiver who’d caught the game-winning pass to hoist the big trophy over their heads. Not what Vinko had wanted, and as soon as the media mob had moved on, he’d turned to Bones and said quietly, “You ever touch anything I’m holding again, I’ll kill you, nigger.”
    But his microphone had still been on, and his use of the n-word reached the ears of millions. It turned his name to mud. Not one team in the NFL dared to draft him. It made the gun trained on his head right now seem as predictable as death itself.
    “I never forget,” Bones said, “and I’m guessing right about now you’re remembering the last time we were together, too.”
    “I might as well shoot you,” Vinko replied. “I’m a dead man anyway. Isn’t that what you’re saying?”
    “Nope, not what I’m saying. You’re the one who threatened to kill me. Ludmila just wanted me to have some closure with the worst man I’ve ever known. She thought it would be good to give you another chance. ‘People change,’ she said. And the truth is she couldn’t believe anybody could be as foul as you. So I said, ‘Sweetheart, you want to meet Stinko, you better bring your gun.’ Aren’t you glad, hon?”
    She nodded. “Not waiting one second more,” she said evenly. “Put it down or I put bullet in your stupid brain.”
    Vinko lowered his pistol.
    “Better put that on the ground and step away,” Bones said.
    Vinko complied. The late morning sun glinted off the stainless steel chamber.
    Biko growled at Bones.
    “Keep him by your side or get ready to bury him.”
    “Quiet,” Vinko said. The dog stopped growling.
    “Why do you hate me?” said Bones. “I just have to ask.” He’d picked up the Ruger and held it by his side. Ludmila, however, maintained her easy aim at Vinko’s head. “I never really got that. All I ever did was make you look good.”
    “I never needed you for that.”
    “Yeah, you did. You needed someone to catch the crap you threw, Stinko.”
    “There were plenty of white guys who could’ve done that.”
    “Not on that team, there wasn’t.”
    “The team still would’ve been better without you.”
    “And seventeen other blacks? Are you delusional?”
    Bones stared at him. He looked like he was earnestly trying to figure Vinko out. He also looked exhausted, as if no amount of effort could ever make sense of Vinko’s hate. Or maybe Bones had just driven too far for too little.
    “Come on, let’s go,” he said to Ludmila. Then he turned his attention back to Vinko. “I’d hoped you changed. I really did. We did a lot together. You were a loose end in my life. I thought maybe I could tie it up. It wasn’t really her. She didn’t care if she met you. She thought I was crazy to even come.”
    That was when Vinko knew the real reason Bones had driven