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And that’s when I freeze.
My eyes meet those of someone I have come to know and trust. Someone who has helped us. Someone who means the world to Drew.
Agent John Steele.
My eyes widen as I look at the man whose face is battered and bruised, but I can still tell who it is. His lips are dry, and I know they probably have not been feeding or hydrating him much.
He looks at me through my mask, and I want nothing more than to get him out of here, but I would never make it. Hell, we would never make it. The only way out for him is death.
By my hand.
“Do it,” he whispers. He has no idea who I am, but his words tell me he knows he has no way out. That he has accepted his fate.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper for only him to hear as I bring the blade up over my head before swinging it downward. It slices through his chest, sending blood splattering over both of us. I can see the second the light goes out in his eyes.
Bile rises in my throat, and I have to do everything I can to keep it down.
I just killed a man.
And not only just a man, but a man I knew personally. A man I trusted.
My grip releases on John, and his body slumps over. Blood pools below him. Latin phrases are being said around me, but I have tuned out what they are saying. All I can see are his eyes. The life that faded from them.
All I can do is try to keep breathing and accept my fate. I killed Agent John Steele. A man who was like family to Drew and Phoenix. A man who was helping us to protect Rae.
I just sold my soul to the Devil.
Chapter Thirty-Three
RAELYN
Apparently,Cameron got the short stick. After the game, the others had things to do, and Phoenix had to cancel our get together because her daughter Raven wasn’t feeling well. So Cam had to babysit me.
Which leads us here, to Pancho’s, a Mexican restaurant in Downtown Summerlin. As we sit here at the table, surrounded by the colorful walls, the brick floors, and greenery, I take a small sip of the margarita I ordered. They have the best ones here, or so I’m told.
The margarita tastes like a lime with a tart and zesty kick. But that tartness is balanced by the sweetness of what I’m guessing is the orange liqueur that it stated on the menu and the earthy, slightly spicy notes of tequila. The salt on the rim just enhances all the flavors, making me hum as I savor it.
My eyes flit up to Cam. “I’m sorry you have to spend your time with me. I know I’m a diseased being you would rather throw to the wolves than be around me,” I say as I take another sip. The alcohol gives me a bit more courage to tell Cam how I really feel. “Not like I ever did anything to hurt your sensitive man feelings, but whatever.”
Cam lets out a sigh and runs a hand down his face. He grabs his beer and takes a quick pull off it, then looks at me. “I don’t think you are diseased.”
“Then why do you hate me?” I question.
He pauses. “I… I don’t hate you.”
I let out a laugh and throw my head back. But before I can respond to his bullshit, the waitress comes over with our meals. She sets down my Ensalada de Carne Asada, and I instantly start to feel myself salivate over the aromas of the meat. Large flat iron steak flanks greens, sauteed fajita, and sliced vegetables.
It looks so good that I put on hold my response and dig in before she even gets to set down Cam’s taco salad.
With food in my mouth, I snark, “I didn’t take you for a taco salad type of guy.”
He raises one eyebrow as he looks up at me, his fork in midair. “And what type of guy did you take me for?”
I hum for a moment. “A burrito type of guy.” I shrug.
“A burrito?”
“Yeah, big, bulky and full of shit.” I smile sweetly.