Page 27

CHAPTER 27

Camila

“ C an I help?” I asked, peeking in on Roger inside the kitchen.

Mom and Prissy were talking and it was as though they’d been friends for years. My mom didn’t usually open up very easily, but it was like their souls recognized one another and you’d think they’d been friends forever. Carmen was scrolling on her phone, though she knew better than to mention where she was tonight.

Roger looked over at me and grinned. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I hope someday to open a restaurant.”

“Really?” he asked, putting his hands on his wide hips. He eyed me like he was determining from sight alone whether I would mess up his feast.

“Don’t mind him. He hardly lets me in the kitchen and I’ve been working alongside him since we were twenty,” Prissy said as she came in and grabbed a pitcher of juice and glasses and brought them back out to the living room.

I laughed. “I get it,” I said in a whisper. “Your kitchen is a sacred space. Mine too, though I have to share it with Mama.”

Roger’s eyes sparkled and he pointed over to where a lump of dough was resting. “You can roll out the bread.”

Going to the sink, I washed my hands before sinking them into the mixture and kneading it. Working helped to settle my nerves, and I had a feeling that was the only reason Roger was allowing me to help. We chatted as we worked, and one by one my muscles started to lose the tension I’d been holding in them for most of the day.

It was only about twenty minutes after Kilo and Overdrive left when the doorbell rang. Roger and I looked at each other.

“Your other friends?” he asked.

“Hopefully,” I told him with a weak smile. I wiped my hands on my jeans. “I’ll get it.”

“No,” he replied. “You wait here. I’ll answer it.”

Going back to the sink, I started to wash my hands again. When screams echoed through the house, I shut the water off and ran into the living room. Skidding to a stop, I stared, confused at the man inside the house. I didn’t recognize him. Didn’t know him. But Roger was lying in a heap on the floor next to him, a gash on his head from where he’d been hit with a gun.

The man was pointing the handgun at us.

Prissy crossed the room, standing in front of me. “Get out of my house now.”

“Sure thing, just as soon as she comes with me.” He waved the gun, clearly pointing at me.

“Who are you?” I asked.

He seemed to consider my question for a moment. “I’m with the FBI,” he told us. “Kruzman has found you and we need to get you somewhere safe.”

“Why do you have a gun?” I challenged him. “Why did you hurt Roger?” I was so worried about how still Roger was lying on the floor, but I knew if I made a move toward him I’d put us all in danger.

“I thought your friend here was going to attack me,” he lied. “I thought he was holding you hostage.”

Glancing over, I saw Mama look my way and shake her head. Fear was written all over her face. I knew it was for me. She didn’t want me to go with him. “Why didn’t Brian come get us?” I asked, keeping my voice calm, trying to buy us time.

“Brian’s too busy. He called and asked me to pick you up. He’ll be meeting up with us later.”

I scoffed to myself. This man was so arrogant, he hadn’t even bothered to read much of the information he’d hacked into. If he had, he’d at least know the names of the Marshals protecting us. Looking around the room, I tried to figure out what to do. I didn’t want to go with him, but if I pulled my gun out right now, someone was going to get hurt. Plus, he might not be alone. Better to draw them away where Prissy, Mama and Carmen would be safe. And then they could help Roger. He might need a hospital and the longer I stood here, the longer it would take until he’d get to one. “Okay,” I told him.

“Camila,” Carmen gasped.

“I’ll go with you,” I told him, giving her a pointed look. She needed to stay here. They needed to help Roger. And hopefully with me gone, no one would bother them. Once the Viking’s Rampage got here, they’d be safe. That was all that mattered right now.

Prissy gripped my arm. Even though she didn’t know Dustin or Jeremy’s names, she knew this wasn’t right.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “I’ll be okay.”

“We’ll send them after you,” she whispered.

They wouldn’t know where to go. “No. They need to protect you all. Just in case. If Kruzman gets to them…” We both looked over at Mama and Carmen. “Please. Keep them safe.”

Prissy looked torn, but she finally nodded.

I stepped around her and walked over to the agent. Bending, I felt for Roger’s pulse and let out a sigh of relief when it thrummed steady and strong against my fingers. “You didn’t need to hurt him.”

“Let’s go,” he said, voice cold. His blue eyes were dead inside. I wasn’t dealing with a man I could appeal to. He’d ignore anything I said because I doubted there was anything he cared about. Except maybe money. I just knew, without having to be told, that was what this was about.

We walked out of the house and I got into the car parked out front. I didn’t bother to plead. To warn him that he was going to regret this decision. He’d find out soon enough. I needed to bide my time.

He pulled away from the curb almost as soon as he got into the car. He wasn’t wasting any time.

“Are Dustin and Jeremy okay?”

“Who’s that?” He kept his eyes on the road.

“The real U.S. Marshals.”

Now he looked my way. “You knew I was full of shit?” I nodded. “And you came anyway?”

Shrugging, I watched his expression. I couldn’t read much. A man like this wouldn’t understand loyalty or caring about someone else other than himself. That was why he didn’t understand why I’d come with him.

“They’re fine.”

“How did you know where I was?”

“Been watching you since this morning,” he said with a sneer. “Imagine my luck when I found out the girl Kruzman was searching for had landed in my city.”

“So you didn’t tell him about me before this?”

He scoffed. “No. That was my partner. Got himself killed on duty a few months ago.”

The silence was thick and I swallowed hard. My gut was telling me that his partner made the mistake of telling this man about Kruzman. About me. And that his partner’s death was his fault, not an accident. Fear skittered down my spine. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Kruzman doesn’t want you dead.” He glared over at me. “But if you try anything, I’ll pop you between the eyes and he’ll just have to make do with a body. Got it?”

“Got it,” I whispered. I wanted so badly to draw my weapon and shoot him. But that was hard to do sitting down, and if he died, he’d wreck. Considering how fast he was driving, I wasn’t sure how I’d fare in that situation. It was better to wait until he stopped the car. And there was the fact that I’d never so much as slapped a man. Could I shoot him?

“Give me your phone.”

Digging into my pocket, I handed it over to him. I gasped when he rolled down the window and tossed it out. “Hey!”

“You won’t be needing that,” he growled.

Asshole.

I sat back, trying to pay attention to where he was taking me. I wasn’t familiar with this part of the city, but I did my best to memorize street names. That would come in handy later when I escaped. There was no way I was letting him take me to Kruzman. I’d do whatever I had to in order to get away.

He pulled up to a house and I wasted no time. As soon as the car slowed enough, I wrenched open my door and ran. I didn’t look back. I was too scared to, but it didn’t seem like I got very far before I heard footsteps pounding behind me. Screaming bloody murder, I looked around, desperate to find somewhere to go. Someone to help me. No one was around. I ran past a house and down into a wash behind it. This suburb was on the outer edge of the city and the desert lay beyond. There were a few mesquite trees, but I wasn’t going to be able to hide from him.

Reaching behind me, I flicked the button on my holster and drew out my gun. I spun, holding it out, ready to fire. My breaths were coming so fast I was worried I might pass out. The fear that I may not be able to pull the trigger was buried beneath a mountain of panic. He’d pushed me to my limits and I was willing to do anything to protect myself. The fact that Kilo had spent so much time showing me how to shoot gave me confidence. I managed to get one shot off before he slammed into me, taking us both to the ground.

“You stupid bitch!” he roared in my ear.

Everything was muffled anyway from the sound of the gun firing. I didn’t know if I’d hit him, but he was on top of me and I could barely breathe, let alone move. Pain exploded in my face. Now my ears were ringing and my vision was blurry. He’d punched me. I’d never been hit before, but somehow it hurt almost the exact amount I’d always imagined it would—a lot. I was grateful he hadn’t managed to hit me with a full swing since we were on the ground. If he had, I wasn’t sure I'd be able to hold onto consciousness. As it was, my head was spinning.

I kicked my legs, trying to buck him off me, but he weighed too much. My arms were pinned beneath him, but I had to keep fighting. Giving up meant death. If not from him, then from Kruzman, so I struggled with every ounce of strength I had. It was disheartening that he didn’t seem to notice or care. He was poking at his left shoulder. It gave me a sense of grim satisfaction to see that I’d shot him.

Too bad it was down a bit. I wouldn’t even feel bad for shooting him through his black heart. Not anymore. He’d drained any compassion or empathy I might have had for him the moment he’d hurt Roger.

I managed to wiggle enough that I got my right hand loose. My gun was nowhere to be seen. I’d lost my grip on it when he’d tackled me. He was distracted with his wound, and he’d counted me out. I was going to show him why that was a big mistake. I might not be as strong as him, but I was scrappy, and I was desperate. Reaching up, I gouged my thumb into the bullet wound on his shoulder.

His scream of pain and rage was like music to my ears. I had no idea how bloodthirsty I would become in the face of death, but I wasn’t about to stop. I jabbed my thumb into the hole as hard as I could, trying not to think about the feel of it. The textures, the blood... I held back a gag.

As soon as he jerked away from me, I was on my feet. I staggered as I started running, shaking my head to try to clear my vision. Everything hurt, but I forced my body to move. I’d run track in high school, so my body quickly flowed into the motion it knew so well. Though the sand bled away some of my speed, I wasn’t stopping. Nothing would keep me from getting away from this man. At least that was what I hoped.

I scrambled up the side of the wash. The houses came into view. I was so close. If I could get back to his car, maybe I could get away from him. Hide out until this was all over.

Hands grabbed me and the sky arced through my vision as we tumbled backward into the wash again. “No!” I gasped, trying to twist so that I could land away from him. I had just enough time to see the ground rushing toward me before I hit and the world went dark.