Page 102 of Cash

“Kid hits like a mule, don’t he?” I asked into the open room, knowing he was incapable of responding.

As the sound of Marvin coughing and attempting to catch his breath echoed throughout the wooden walled home, I stood and walked into the kitchen.

Dressed in a pair of gray slacks, a bright blue dress shirt, and a dark blue tie, Marvin was rolling from side to side on the kitchen floor, clutching his gut.

I stepped on his shoulder, pinning him in place. “Remember me?” I asked.

His gaze met mine. Then, his eyes darted to Tito. Then, Baker. Eventually, they came full circle, meeting mine again.

“Where’s the money Marvin?”

He swallowed hard. “What…what money?”

“A man would think I’d enjoy the freedom I’ve been given for this little escapade, but I’m so far out of the mood, it isn’t funny.” I lifted my pistol and looked at it admiringly. “You see that thing screwed to the end of the barrel, Marvin?”

He looked at the pistol but didn’t respond.

“It’s a silencer,” I said. “It lets me fire this damned thing without making much noise to speak of. Hell, it’s not much louder than opening a door.”

His eyes darted from the pistol to me.

The weapon was a twenty-two-caliber pistol. The choice of assassins, murderers, or anyone hoping to kill someone silently with a head-shot, the gun was useless for much else. Shooting Marvin in the head would kill him in an instant. Placing one of the small bullets anywhere else would do nothing more than hurt like sheer hell, bleed, and maybe require a little surgery.

“I’m going to ask a question,” I explained, my tone without an ounce of emotion. “You can choose to answer, or you can lay there and act stupid. If you do the stupid thing, well, I’ll shoot you. That’s a promise, Marvin. I’m a man of my word, so you can bank on that. I will shoot you.”

He looked at me like I’d explained everything in Swahili.

“You ready?” I asked.

“I uh. I’m not...” he stammered.

“You’re not what?” I asked. “Ready?”

He looked at Tito, and then at me. “I don’t understand what you’re after.”

I pointed the barrel at his thigh. “Where’s Kimberly’s money?”

His mouth opened, but he didn’t respond. At least not quick enough to save his leg.

I squeezed the trigger.

Thwack!

An instant after the bullet bore into his thigh, he clutched his leg. His eyes went bug-eyed.

“You shot me!” he bellowed.

“Don’t act like I didn’t warn you, Marv.”

Tito tied a tourniquet on his leg and stuffed a kitchen rag in his mouth.

I looked at him and out a sigh. “We’re going to do this again. I’ll ask the question. Then, you can either do that dumb thing you’re so good at, or you can choose to respond. Ready?”

He nodded eagerly.

Reno leaned over, pulled the rag from Mavin’s mouth, and pointed his pistol at the leg I’d already shot.

“We’ll both shoot you this time,” Reno warned.