LYNX FINALLYfelt at peace. She’d dropped out of her classes but was helping Mike. He acted all tough like he didn’t need any help, but it was an act. He wanted her help.
“I love your help, it’s just I don’t want to let you make any more sacrifices,” he’d told her.
Bullshit. He loved it and she knew it.
The writing had been a pleasant surprise. She couldn’t believe how much she loved curling up in a corner of a coffee shop and writing down her thoughts and experiences. She’d originally thought reliving them would be unsettling.
“This is really good. Your feelings jump off the pages.” Sammy peered over the short manuscript as they were seated on the outdoor patio having a late lunch, iced teas in front of them and a bread basket in the middle of the table.
Together, they made some notes with a red pen, occasionally striking out parts that felt too intimate to Lynx.
“Do you think I should use a pen name?” Lynx sipped her tea and looked away, distracting herself from what her sister might think of her experiences, although she wasn’t sure why. They’d compared notes, and many of them had been the same.
“No. This is too important. You can’t be shamed by your actions, Lynx. You were making ends meet, and were very enticed by an opportunity. You were sort of young and foolish, because you also set out to find me. And you did.”
“Landon did,” Lynx mumbled.
“He did, but with the help of you and your friends. He fought a lot of red tape from the agency. Carson’s old contacts and money made it all happen faster.” When Lynx kept her gaze on her iced tea, Samara reached for her hand. “Look at me, sweetie.”
Sighing, Lynx looked up.
“We’re lucky to have found each other, and I’m so glad we did. We’ll have that forever.” Sammy spoke softly, her words blanketing Lynx with the warmth of unconditional love. “I’m proud of you, and so is Mike. You need to wear your story with pride.”
Closing her eyes, Lynx imagined it—others benefitting from her story.
“Hello, ladies.”
Lynx’s heart stopped at the unmistakable voice that came from behind her. Something hard jutted into her back and she froze, afraid to move. Becoming all too aware of the deserted patio, which was creepily quiet, she felt her heart stammer in her chest.
“Nice to make your acquaintance, Samara,” Bruno said. “I’ve heard all about you ... at least when Lincoln here was loyal to me.”
Sammy glared up at him, but kept her voice low. “I think you should go away.”
“Not so lucky. I’m going to keep my piece right where it is—on your sister’s back—and she’s gonna leave with me. No fuss, no nothing. Hear me? Nod and smile if you do. Don’t call attention to us, or I’ll pull the trigger.”
“Do it,” Lynx said quietly, fixing a pleading gaze on Sammy. Her sister had just told her how lucky they were to have each other. Lynx would deal with this quietly on her own, and then have a future with Sammy. And Mike.
Oh my God. Mike is going to go ape-shit.
“Let’s go,” Bruno demanded. “I have plans.”
He helped Lynx stand and guided her to the exit at the rear of the patio.
Lynx refused to turn and look at her sister. She kept putting one foot in front of the other, heading to the unknown, unafraid. She’d survived a lifetime of crap ... she’d outsmart Bruno too.
“What’s your plan, Bruno?”
“Oh, you’ll see, my dark-meat pretty.” His voice was sinister, more outraged than ever before. A chill ran the length of her body at his use of Zayid’s pet name for her, but she remained stoic on the outside.
“Here we are.” Bruno unlocked a dark Cadillac and shoved her in the passenger side, never moving his gun from her. Keeping it trained on her, he rounded the hood and got in, locked the doors, and started the engine.
“Give me your phone,” he demanded, his gun pointing at her face.
Cool air blasted from the vents as she reached into the pocket of her jeans shorts and pulled out her phone, just then realizing she’d left her tote with all her belongings at the table.
Bruno took the phone and tossed it out the window, then swung a U-turn and drove back, directly over it. “Let’s hit the road.”
He was quiet as he navigated the side streets. When he hit I-75 toward Tampa, he finally spoke.
