Very slowly, I raised my chin and lowered it, fighting against my reflexive response that most people didn’t. Even if he wasn’t going to hurt me, he probably didn’t like smart-asses.
“Brantley has been taken away.”
“Okay,” I drawled. “Is that a euphemism?”
He stared at me in thought. “No. He’s been driven away from here.”
I turned my face a fraction of an inch. That statement oozed with feigned ignorance… And yet it would probably work during a police investigation.
“Why are you telling me that?” I asked.
“Do you want Porter taken away, too?”
“Like you care,” I blurted, inadvertently. “Sorry. I don’t mean any disrespect, that slipped.”
His lips tipped up and humor lit his eyes. “You’re funny. Did he hurt you?”
My lips pursed. “No. I was able to stop him both times.”
“Both?” he asked, one eyebrow arched.
We both jolted at the sound of the garage door opening. Suarez looked genuinely surprised by the sound. I jerked because I’d never heard such a screechy garage door.
After a deep breath, I turned back to Suarez. His eyes weren’t on me, they were aimed in the direction where the sound had originated.
He held up a finger. “Hold that thought.”
I nodded, but he’d turned and left the room.
The door didn’t quite catch, so I wasn’t locked in any more.
A bang sounded, and I realized it was a gunshot. A second shot rang out, then a third.
I pulled at the rope Nate had put around my wrists. It came free, and I whipped the door open.
I heard men yelling outside, and the rumble of footsteps coming toward me. A small bathroom was next to the room. I closed the bedroom door behind me, and quickly ducked into the small bathroom.
Once the sound of people running through the house subsided, I left the bathroom and headed toward a sliding glass door. It led out to a concrete slab that served as a patio. My plan to sneak around the backside of the house changed when I heard the men shouting about calling 911.
“Eightball, put your gun down!” someone yelled.
I edged toward the garage.
“Put pressure on his chest,” Nate shouted.
Peering around the corner of the house, I saw Digit standing close to Nate. There was someone on the ground between them.
“Why?” Digit asked.
“Because the cops are gonna assume we did this shit. Take your damned shirt off and put pressure on his chest,” Nate yelled.
I leaned forward to try and see who had been shot. Movement caught my eye, and I saw Porter rocking back and forth, holding his leg.
KC stood near him with a gun aimed at him. I couldn’t rush out from my hiding spot since I didn’t trust KC not to shoot me.
My mind raced. If Brantley had been taken somewhere, and Porter was shot…who was on the ground?
Porter kept rocking almost as if he was trying to scoot away. KC moved to the other side of Porter. Now that KC had his back to me, I hurried toward Nate’s car parked in the drive.
