“No,” she says, lifting teary eyes to meet mine. “But I will be.”
I nod in understanding, a sad smile on my face, and help her to her feet with one hand on her elbow.
“It’s probably better this way, right?” She sniffles and swipes at her eyes with her index fingers.
“Yeah,” I say.
She blows out a breath and nods to herself, then tugs out of my hold and detours toward the kitchen. Climbing on to a small stool she drags over, she roots around in the cabinet above the fridge, tossing things onto the floor as she digs deeper into the contents. Finally, she pulls out a large coffee can and shoots me a grin asshe lifts the edge of the plastic lid to display the jumble of money inside.
She refastens the lid, tucks the can under her arm, and jumps down from the stool. She moves toward the door, but before she can take more than a couple steps, Danny darts out of the hallway and grabs her arm. He pulls her backward against his chest, keeping a white-knuckled grip on her bicep, and the coffee can falls, the lid popping off and crumpled bills in various denominations scattering over the floor.
“You think you can just walk in here and take what’s mine?” he asks in a snarl as he lifts his arm and presses the barrel of a gun to Raquel’s temple. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”
Thirteen
Neil
“Now,howaboutyouget the hell out of my house,” says Danny. He runs the barrel of the pistol down the side of Raquel’s face until it’s under her chin. She whimpers and he lets out a low chuckle.
“Raquel and I have some things to discuss,” he continues, his gaze sliding down to the flurry of bills spread across the floor as he increases the pressure on the gun and leans closer to speak directly into Raquel’s ear. “Like the consequences for hiding shit from me.”
I meet Raquel’s terrified eyes and a single tear tracks down her cheek. She mouths for me to go, but she has to know that’s notgoing happen. As she reminded me back at the casino, she and I don’t pull that kind of self-sacrificing crap.
Wolfie moves to stand at my side, pressing his flank against my leg, and a growl rumbles up from his chest as he focuses on Danny. I rest my hand on his head, silently urging him to stay back. Shifter speed might beat human reflexes, but not even a shifter is faster than a speeding bullet, and shifter healing isn’t much of a match for a gunshot either, especially if Danny were to hit something vital.
I need to find a way to get the gun out of the equation. The question ishow.
Danny sneers and wraps his fist in Raquel’s hair, yanking her head backward, then moves the gun to point at Wolfie. “And get that mangy mutt under control before I shoot it.”
The confidence in his words is belied by the slight waver in his hand, the gun barrel wobbling a bit. Either the combination of fear and adrenaline is making him shaky or he’s still a little drunk.
My guess is it’s a little of both.
I glance down at Wolfie, then run my hand over the top of his head. “Down, boy. It’s okay.”
I’m not thrilled about treating him like a dog—and by the expression on his lupine face, he isn’t either—but it’s a necessary evil at the moment. I can apologize later. Like when he’s human againand we can actually talk. For now, it’s best if Danny continues to believe my mate is nothing more than a really large dog, which is a definite stretch, but one Danny’s brain seems happy to make.
Wolfie grumbles, but lies down, resting his chin on his paws. Danny snickers then lets the hand with the gun drop to his side. I’d rather he drop the damn thing altogether, but lowering it is better than having the thing aimed at anyone. Plus, the slightly less aggressive stance gives me hope there’s a way to defuse the situation.
I guess it’s time to try out my hostage negotiation skills. I’ve watched enough crime procedural shows that I might be able to pull it off. It’s worth a try, right?
“Look, Danny, this doesn’t have to go down like this. We can talk this through,” I say, voice calm and even. “You want us gone and we want to be gone. I think we can agree on that much. So, why don’t you let Raquel go and we’ll be out of your hair.”
There’s no reaction from the asshole except a disdainful huff.
“Okay…” I gesture toward the bills spread out over the cheap linoleum. “Are you worried about the money? You want it? Fine. I have no problem with that, but I can’t leave Raquel here with you, not if you’re going to be threatening her.”
“Fuck off.”
I take a long, slow breath, struggling to hold back words I’m pretty sure would do nothing to help this situation. Like “no, fuckyou.” Once I’ve wrangled my wayward impulses into submission, I give Danny what I hope can be interpreted as a conciliatory smile.
“How can we come to an agreement? What’s your end goal here, Danny?” I’m pretty sure saying his name is a common tactic for establishing a rapport or whatever. It’s supposed to make it sound like I’m on his side or something like that, right?
He stares at me blankly for half a second, then lifts the gun to press against the underside of Raquel’s chin. “I think I made my ‘end goal’ pretty clear,” he says. “You, gone. Her, here.”
Well,that’snot going to work.
I take another deep breath and let it out slowly as I try to figure out my next words. Isn’t there an empathy component to this hostage negotiation thing?
