Blood Abandon (Donald Holley Book 1) Read Free Page A

number.”
    “Fuck,” he said, slumping over, and putting his head in his hands. I folded the piece of paper up and put it in my coat pocket for later.
    “Come on, time to go,” I said, grabbing him by his arm. “Get up. We need to get out of here.”
    We hustled back through the house, out to my Tahoe, peeling off the gloves and tucking them in our pockets as we went. I started the truck and throttled the gas as we took off down the road. The streets went by in a blur; I was focused on getting us back to my house in Chapel Hill. It was a gated, private community so anyone coming for us who didn’t have a way in would at least give us time to get a head start. I didn’t want that to be what transpired, but we needed to regroup and get a plan. Whoever had killed Damon was already ahead of us, and knew who they were looking for. They were after my brother and his cohorts, and soon enough, they would have them, if they didn’t have most of them already. And I, of course, was now part of this.
    “Call Derrick, tell him what happened, and tell him to get ahold of the others,” I said.
    “I don’t have his number saved in this phone.”
    I glanced over at him, incredulous. “You stole two-million dollars and you don’t have the phone number of your ‘partner’ who has it?”
    Bit said nothing.
    “Where does he live?”
    He lives on a little street off of Main, near the tobacco warehouse district,” he said. “I don’t remember the name, but I can get us there.”
    I followed Bit’s directions, and again we changed gears from what I had in mind. I really didn’t like how disorganized this was; this wasn’t how I did business, and we were already behind the eight ball. I thought about the phone number on the sheet; we needed to call, but we needed to get a handle on as many of these guys as we could before this spiraled further out of control.
    “Down here,” Bit said, motioning down a side street that veered sharply off of Main Street. In the time since we had left Damon’s house, it had begun to snow, something that didn’t happen much of the time in North Carolina. The flakes fell heavy, acting as a natural dampener on the sounds of the city. It was just after five p.m., and the evening dark was coming.
     
    ***
    We put our gloves back on, and Bit followed my lead up to the duplex door. The home was in a decrepit state from the outside; broken, rusted toys sat to the sides of the cement walkway leading up. The brown paint flaked off the cypress wood that was used to build the structure. There was no storm door on this residence, and as I came upon it, I instantly noticed the similarity to our first stop.
    The doorjamb was broken.
    “ Draw ,” I whispered to Bit. We withdrew our weapons, and on my ready signal, I pushed the door open and after a second, we stepped inside, instantly getting hit with an overwhelming scent not unlike copper pennies. The lighting overhead had been smashed, and glass littered the floor. Furniture was overturned, and slashed open. Several pictures hung haphazardly from the tan walls; others lay broken on the floor. I looked at Bit, he nodded, and we moved from the living room into the kitchen. It was empty as well, but the scent became stronger. A dark hallway fed straight off from the kitchen, and the carpet lining it was stained with a dark spatter, which appeared to get heavier as it led to a door at the end, which was partially cracked open, minimal light coming through the opening. I pulled my cellphone out, turned on the flashlight app, casting light down the dark hallway. Ropes of dark, drying blood wove patterns on the walls, ceiling and floor, smaller fingers running off of the larger patterns, downward like icicles. It looked as if someone had taken a large paint brush and tossed it in a rhythmic motion throughout. A smiley-face with dollar signs in place of the eyes was crudely drawn in blood on the door.
    “ Oh man ,” whispered Bit.
    I pocketed my flashlight,