Femme Fatale

Chapter Twenty-Six: Aftershock

Michael was speeding through winding roads like a madman. He was closing in on the white BMW in front of him rapidly, so he glanced up at his rearview mirror and switched into the left lane, passing it.

That's weird. Michael looked into his rearview mirror again, studying Corey. He was staring out the car window and sitting perfectly still, his hands rolled into balled fists. He wasn't shaking his leg, biting his lip, or engaging in any of his usual tics. Rather, it seemed as though Corey was actively trying to seem calm. Michael frowned. Something was off.

Michael had spent enough time with Corey – working on missions, picking up women, gambling at casinos – to know exactly when his colleague was lying. Michael had taken a sizeable chunk of Corey's wealth during poker games by being able to call his bluff. And Corey was bluffing right now.

Michael eased his foot off the gas pedal, slowing the vehicle down.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jax growled at him.

Michael peeled his eyes from the mirror and turned to his boss. "Corey is lying about Emma."

Corey's eyes widened in fear, and his mouth opened slightly. He took a deep breath and tried to look as normal as possible, even though he was a few seconds away from soiling himself.

"What? No, I'm not. Why would I lie about that?" Corey asked.

"Pull over, Michael," Jax said.

Michael obeyed, and pulled the car into a secluded area hidden by trees. The vehicle came to a stop.

Jax pulled his handgun from his waistband and blew off Corey's knee. Corey's agonizing scream filled the enclosed space as blood and bits of bone splattered everywhere.

"What did you do?" Jax asked in a low voice, unmoved by Corey's tears and howls.

"It- it was Frank's idea," Corey sobbed, his shoulders shaking. He clutched his thigh and shin, rocking back and forth in an attempt to alleviate the excruciating pain in his leg.

Jax shot Corey's other kneecap, and the young blonde screamed like a distressed banshee.

"Tell me everything, or I swear to God..." Jax said quietly.

"J-jo-jo," Corey stammered. "He's- he's going to kill her. She's not good for you. She's- she's messing with your head!"

Jax lunged forward, grabbed Corey's wrist, and pressed his gun into the fleshy inside of the elbow.

"Please, Jax," Corey pleaded pitifully, tears and bubbly snot streaming down his face. "Please."

"Emma," Jax said simply.

"Emma- Emma is fine. We didn't even touch her. We-"

Jax shot a third bullet into Corey's forehead. He slumped down onto the seat, his eyes blank and glassy. Jax covered the body with a blanket, then turned to Michael.

"Drive home. Step on it."

They got back to the mansion in record time, and Michael didn't even fully park before the passenger door flew open and Jax sprung out. Michael slammed the gear into park, and followed his boss into the house.

"Go to Emma's," Jax said without even looking back at him.

Michael paused, hesitating. Emma was fine, and he wanted to check on Jo. Well, maybe he didn't want to, considering she had been at Frank's mercy. He shuddered at the thought.

"What the fuck are you doing, I said go!" Jax roared.

"Got it," Michael nodded. He jumped back into the car and drove off.