“Where’s Lucy?” Owen asks again. Something in the way he’s looking at Andrews is tense. He still doesn’t trust him.
Bloody macho men.
“You called for her, right before callingAll Clear.I assumed she was here.”
He called for me? But it wasn’t all clear.
My heart’s already hammering against my ribs. Something coils in my stomach like a snake that’s been sleeping and is now waking up preparing to strike. A slow, creeping heat tracks up my chest and neck, the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. The air heavy, charged with something I can’t put my finger on it.
What the fuck.
The realisation slams into me as movement explodes in front of me.
Andrews lunges for Owen.
It happens too damn fast.
One second he’s standing there, next he’s a shadow shifting in the dim light, attacking Owen who meets him head on. His blocks are quick, precise, but Andrews is ruthless, efficient, a predator in his element.
It takes me a moment, a heartbeat, to jump into action.
Yanking my gun up, grip tightening, I shoot the door with a sharp deafening crack. Glass shatters, and I leap through the remaining gap like fucking MacGyver. The noise and damage I cause stops the fight, as both of them dive for cover for what they both thought was an impending attack.
“It’s me Owen, you can come out,” I say, holding my gun to the spot that Andrews dived to. “You’re okay.”
He doesn’t move though, and although that hurts, can I really blame him?
“How can I trust you?” he asks.
How do I answer that? How can I give him the reassurance that he needs to believe that I have nothing to do with whatever the fuck is going on right now.
“Because it’s me,” I foolishly reply.
Nice one, Kara.
Well done, Lucy.
“Sorry, that was awful, but I don’t really know what to say to you that will reassure you at this exact moment.”
“Because she’s lying,” Andrews says from behind the pool table.
“Oh, shut up, you wanker,” I say, popping off a round when the bastard dares to pop his head up. “You have some fucking explaining to do.”
“Don’t take it personally, little one.” The bastard puts his hands above the pool table, and I actually want to hear what the shit head has to say for himself, so I don’t shoot him. Yet. He starts to emerge with his hands still above him.
“Talk,” I say.
Owen appears from behind one of the large leather chairs. The fire that was so alive earlier now burned to smouldering embers.
“You haven’t been completely honest with me, have you, Kara?”
I frown, shaking my head, because honestly, I’ve got no fucking idea what he’s talking about.
“You helped Luca.”
“Oh that,” I say, waving him off. “I owed him a favour.” I shrug. “You know how these things work.”
“I’m glad you think like that.”
