Page 74 of Not Quite Dead Yet

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Jet stumbled back, falling into Billy.

‘Don’t shoot!’ Billy shouted.

‘Henry, what the fuck!’

The gun lowered, hand shaking, Henry’s terrified face behind it.

‘Shit, Jet.’ He fumbled the gun, hid it behind his back. ‘Sorry, I thought you were someone else.’

Jet straightened up. ‘Someone else? Who were you planning to point a gun at, Henry?’

‘No one,’ he sniffed. ‘Doesn’t matter.’ He doubled back inside, put the gun down on the shelf above the radiator, barrel pointed away from them, same place JJ always used to leave his keys. Jet studied his hands, still shaking, as he stuffed them in the pockets of his jeans. He’d held the gun in his right hand. Right-handed.

‘Since when do you have a gun?’ Jet’s voice was still frantic, heart in full agreement, dancing against her ribs. Billy could probably feel it too, her back still pressed against him, his panicked breath in her hair.

‘I got it the other day.’ Henry avoided her eyes. ‘It’s registered. Don’t worry.’

‘Don’t worry?! You just almost shot me – don’t fucking worry!’

‘I said sorry.’

Jet studied his face, now the shock was sinking away, slipping into the uneasiness in her gut. There was a graze on hischeekbone, right below one eye, a ring of bruise around it, a wine-dark purple. Recent.

‘Does JJ know you bought a gun?’

Henry shook his head. ‘He’s not replying to my messages, picking up the phone.’

‘Do you know where he is?’

‘No, I don’t know, just like I told the cops.’ Henry stepped toward the threshold again, peered around the corner, face rearranging, the fear back in his eyes, the smell of it too, like stale sweat.

‘Anyone with you?’ He eyed the street behind them.

‘No, it’s just me and Billy.’

Henry moved back, hissing when his step landed, doubling over to press his hand against his ribs.

‘Who are you scared of?’ Jet asked, clocking the ribs too.

‘Nobody. I just wanted a gun.’

‘JJ?’ Billy added.

‘Who is this guy?’ Henry sniffed. ‘I’m not scared of my brother.’

‘I’m Just Billy.’

‘Why did JJ leave?’ Jet cut in. ‘He left Friday night, same night I was attacked.’

Henry shook his head, finally meeting her eyes. ‘You think he did that to you?’

‘Well, the police do,’ Jet snapped back. ‘Doesn’t look great, him disappearing the same exact night. If he had nothing to do with it, why doesn’t he come back and explain himself?’

‘I don’t know where he went, or why. He was just gone, after the fair. Some clothes missing. But you know he wouldn’t do that, assault you.’ Henry eyed Jet’s bandages, his left eye a little filmy, a little behind.

‘It wasn’t just assault,’ Jet said darkly. ‘In four days’ time it will be murder.’