“Are you sure?” Michelle sounds suspicious. “I swear, I thought he—”
Daisy says something else to her friend, but it comes over the line garbled, and frustration digs at my insides. I practically crush the cell in my hand.
“There,” Dante says, moving past me and pointing to the opening off a small side street. I pick up the pace, rounding the redbrick building along one side of the street and then stopping.
A big, green dumpster that smells of rotted meat that has sat too long under the sun is pushed against the side of the street, but there’s no sign of the women. Daisy’s voice comes back on the phone, and I hear it in dual ways—once over the line and the second time in person.
“Sorry about that,” she says, sounding breathless. “Michelle thought the guy was still—”
Her voice is louder now, coming not just from the phone, but from an alcove off the side of the dead-end street. Both Dante and I make a beeline for it, coming to a halt in the mouth of the alcove so quickly that Alonzo, who followed behind us after he parked the car, plows into Dante’s back.
I stare at the scene before me. I see it, but it’s difficult to believe.
“Well, shit,” Dante says, sounding far more amused than he should be.
I shoot him a dirty look. “Don’t—” But he’s already talking, saying exactly what I hoped he wouldn’t.
“Looks like your new wife has more than what it takes to be your bride.”
I drag a hand down my face before looking down at the bloodied man lying at the feet of Daisy and her friend. When I lift my gaze back to her worried and slightly glassy eyes, my chest clenches.
“Tell me what happened,” I say. And she does. The whole fucked-up story.
15
DAISY
Gimme a K! An I! An L! L! E! R! What’s that spell?…
Fucked-up. So totally fucked-up.
I straighten and pull my hand away from my purse, leveling a dark look on the man as he takes another step back and frowns at me. “Let her go.” I say the words casually, but there’s no mistaking the command in my flat tone.
“You don’t get to make demands, bitch,” the man spits before licking his lips. “You come toward me—that’s right, all slow like.”
I take a step forward and then another and another before stopping with an order from him. “Not with your purse,” he says. “Drop it!”
I do as he says, not giving a shit anyway. The closer I am to him, the better. Mugger or just plain sadist, it doesn’t matter; he’s going to die here. It’s an inevitability.
I toss my purse against the wall and march forward. Michelle’s eyes are wild, jerking from me to the space behind me as if she’s hoping someone will stop at the mouth of thedead-end street and see us. I can’t help but pity her. Unlike me, Michelle was raised on a farm. She’s used to people being helpful and offering assistance when they see someone in trouble. I know that even if someone spies us like this, they’re more likely to hightail their asses away and save their own necks. I can’t blame them, and though I’d give anything right now to have someone else sweep in and save my best friend, I also can’t deny that I’m going to enjoy what I’m about to do.
“Put your hands up!” Mr. Ball Cap growls. He swivels to the side and points toward the dead-end curve around the side of the building to the left. “Walk in there.”
I consider the distance between the man with the gun and me. He’s still got Michelle pinned up against his chest, and as soon as he’s done pointing, he jerks the barrel of his gun back to her temple. The anger inside of me frosts over with ice. I need to be very careful with how I approach this.
Even as I think that, I recognize that this situation isn’t right. The long barrel thing attached to the end of the gun’s muzzle is a silencer. Yeah, this dude is sonota regular mugger. He ordered me to toss my purse but didn’t even look at it. My gaze flicks to the alcove.
I’m pretty sure he’s planning to shoot me the second I’m in there, but it’s not like I have a choice. He’s still holding Michelle. My heart rate picks up as I lift my arms toward the sky and walk slowly, each step drawing me closer and closer to the two of them. My heart thunders against the inside of my chest.
The man smiles as if he’s enjoying this, and when he does, he reveals a mouthful of blackened and chipped teeth.An addict?He could be, but is he an addict just looking to mug someone so he can buy drugs? Or is he a something else? I wouldn’t expect a junkie to have a gun as well-kept as his. A paid killer, though? Maybe. It’s cool, black precision with nary a scratch on the surface. Not a pawn shop pistol. His clothes, too, are far too well-kept, not ratty or unclean.
My mind takes in all of this information as I inch closer. My chest constricts with each breath I draw. Michelle’s wide, brown eyes seek mine out with desperation, and as soon as I lock onto her, I know she’s going to do something stupid. I jerk my chin to the side, trying to give her a silent warning not to press her luck, but her gaze hardens and I know she won’t listen.
Shit.
Michelle’s nails dig into the guy’s arm where it curls around her chest, and as she ducks her head away from the end of the barrel, she lowers her mouth to his forearm and latches on, biting down so sharply and quickly that the man’s knee-jerk reaction works in my favor. He hollers in pain and immediately shoves Michelle away.
No time like the present.I take off at a dead run. Feet separate us, feet that disappear under my legs in an instant as I leap upon the two of them, taking both Michelle and the mugger down to the ground in one move.
