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“So, how do you two know each other, again?” Jimmy asks, cold, flinty eyes drifting between me and Cain’s arm on my chair.
I clear my throat, scrambling to think of something. I can’t give Cain a chance to answer. All Sam has right now is a name. He can’t find out about Pe
“We have a mutual friend,” Cain answers before I can cough up a lie. It’s not a lie, but it’s such an intentionally vague answer. Thankfully, Cain has no more interest in Jimmy knowing about him than I do.
“Oh, really . . .” Jimmy scratches his wiry beard as if in thought. “What’s this friend’s name? Have I met him? Her?”
And here we go. Jimmy is gathering information.
“No, you wouldn’t have. Just a girl who lives in my building.” To try and steer him away from any assumptions about Cain and me being a couple, I add with hesitation, “She’s his girlfriend.”
I feel Cain’s cutting glare but I don’t turn to meet it.
Jimmy’s cheek puffs out as he presses against it with his tongue, taking the two of us in as he nods slowly. Deciding something, he glances at his watch and a
Cain takes it. “Likewise, Jimmy.” He doesn’t hide the iciness in his glare.
I follow suit, standing and collecting my purse and keys—the rental car keys—from the table.
“Charlie, a moment please?” Cain’s tone is clipped.
I can see a
I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to get a picture of Cain.
No doubt, for Sam.
I grab Cain’s arms and swivel them so his back is to Jimmy. “What?” I whisper harshly. My level of panic has reached new highs.
“Charlie . . .” Cain’s eyes roam over my face and hair again. I’ve experienced so many intimate moments with this man, and yet right now I couldn’t possibly feel farther away from him. “Please don’t do whatever you’re about to do. I can’t—” He cuts off abruptly, that jaw that I’ve had my mouth on countless times growing taut.
A painful lump fills my throat. He’s figured it out. Maybe not entirely, but he knows it’s something bad. “Can we talk about this later?”
I can see the internal struggle inside him. Will he even want anything to do with me later? Cain could do a lot of things right now. He could put up a fight. He could pull me into his car.
Or he could just walk away.
Finally, with narrowed eyes, he asks, “Are you in danger?”
“No,” I lie quickly, my eyes flickering to where Jimmy stands, his head turned and tilted as if he’s trying to catch the conversation.
“Charlie! We have to go. Your father is waiting for you,” Jimmy calls out in a sterner voice than I’ve ever heard him use with me. Maybe that’s his normal tone. I don’t know anything about Jimmy. He could be a cold-blooded killer. He could be pla
I don’t have to look up at Cain’s face to know that there’s a cyclic storm of unanswered questions brewing in his head. Is he wondering about the father that’s in jail? Or the one who called today?
I don’t need to look, and yet I do. My heart stops.
I don’t miss the subtle shake of his head, the clenched teeth.
The disappointment.
The anger, as he realizes that the woman he’s been nothing but kind and generous and loving to is a liar.
I hear the agony in my voice as I whisper, “You need to let me go.” For good. I’m no good for him.
“You want me to let you go? Fine.” I see him swallow hard and then his face turns stony. “Consider yourself gone.”
■ ■ ■
“What is this?” The guy flips a few strands of my black hair through his fingers. “A wig?”
“You want to borrow it?” I ask smoothly, letting my eyes shift pointedly to his receding hairline.
I get a cold, flinty glare in return. “You’ve got a smart mouth, don’t ya?”
It’s the only thing keeping me from pissing my pants right now. I bite down on my tongue to keep quiet and scan the small hotel room for anything important to note. It’s a different hotel than before, but just as high end. Eddie and Bob are here—without any family as cover—but so is this new guy. He’s on the heavier side, with beady eyes and a couple of days of dark scruff that camouflage the pockmarks on his cheeks. He calls himself Ma
Ma
I knew I was trapped.
The pain in my chest instantly blossomed. There’s nothing I can do except pray this isn’t a setup, try not to lose control of my bladder, and get the hell out of here the second I have the chance.
Bob goes about his body search again. Thankfully it’s silent and quick this time—with less groping involved—and I let myself breathe a tiny sigh of relief. I’ve received not a glare, not a word, not a flicker of an eye to do with “the incident.” I can’t help but notice that his nose looks somehow different. A bit swollen. And there’s a lump on the bridge. I wonder if that was courtesy of Nate.
I remind myself that this is a business. A disgusting, illegal business but, as Sam rationalized before, everyone in this room just wants to make a lot of money. I just need to chill out and—
The sound of a small click is the only warning I get before the cool metal of a gun presses against my temple.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Three.
Each one slower, louder, harder. A strange wave of calm washes over me for a moment. And then my stomach drops out from my body, taking with it my ability to speak, to think, to breathe.
“So, what kind of fucking moron is this Sam guy, anyway? I mean, who sends a little bitch in for this kind of deal? You’re good for shoving eight balls up your snatch and driving across the border. Did he really think we wouldn’t put a bullet in you and walk away with the money and the goods? He’s not the only one who can bring this in for us.”
I fight against the shakiness in my legs as Ma
His words aren’t missed. The promise in them stops my heart from beating altogether, as if someone has put his hand over the pendulum to stop time. My time, that is.
A calming numbness begins to swell through my body, mingling with the terror, and my thoughts drift morbidly away. I wonder how much of my blood will actually hit the gold-and-tan striped wallpaper. That would leave a lot to clean up. Will they do it here or somewhere else?
A loud click sounds in my ear. Not the safety, not the chamber loading . . .
The trigger.
Ma
Cold rushes in a sudden wave from my head down to my feet, every part of my body paralyzed except for my eyes. They take in hotel room, Eddie, Bob. I’m still here.
I’m still alive.
Maybe I didn’t hear that. Maybe it was just my imagination.
Ma