Page 48 of Bitter Truth
I don’t see any signs of life. No people, no cars, no help. Just the two of us.
But as he reaches past me to open the door, I know that’s going to change all too soon. I prepare myself as he pushes me inside.
The interior of the building is dim. The air is musty. Our steps ring hollowly across the cement floor as we walk down a hall, dark caverns gaping on both sides of us.
A collapsed cardboard box lurks at the edge of the shadows. Random bits of trash are strewn about at our feet. Rodent droppings litter the floor, suggesting that we might not be completely alone, but as far as other humans are concerned, it appears empty.
“Hello?” Skunk’s voice echoes as he pulls me to a stop.
There’s no answer. He mutters angrily as he looks around, searching the shadows around us. Turns his narrowed, bloodshot eyes my way, his gaze drilling into me with hate. I lift my chin, refusing to look away.
The space briefly lights up as the door opens behind us. Though Skunk turns, he keeps a hand on me, holding me in place. I use the opportunity to pull the knife from under my sleeve and adjust my grip, preparing to strike.
The weapon is dull. I’d been planning on sinking it into the vulnerable softness of his gut, but now I debate trying to jab it into one of his kidneys. If I wait, I may lose my chance to draw blood. If I make my move too soon, I may miss an opportunity to inflict more damage.
“I brought the girl,” Skunk says. “Did you bring the money?”
His hold on me tightens, though with nerves or excitement I couldn’t say.
“Take it out, show it to me,” he orders.
I can only assume that whoever is here to collect me complies.
“Now toss it over.”
This is my chance, and I don’t intend to miss it. Drawing a deep breath, I tense my muscles, getting ready to spring into action. Listen closely for the sound of the package hitting the floor.
When it does, Skunk releases me. I spin, my focus aimed on where I heard the money fall, the knife clenched in my fist. But just as I’m about to throw myself toward the ground, where Skunk is bending over, my gaze flits toward the door, already trying to plan my next move.
In an instant, all the fight goes out of me. It feels like I’ve been tossed into an icy sea, my skin frozen, my body numb.
Because it’s not one of Bianchi’s men I see. It’s my man. And as my eyes latch onto Jake’s, I can only hope they haven’t somehow become one and the same.
CHAPTER 25
My heart flips inside my frozen chest as Jake’s eyes meet mine. I try to read what I see there, but I don’t have time. Skunk has noticed the knife in my hand. He knows what I intended to do. And he’snothappy about it.
He straightens up, eyes gone black with anger. His lips curl back from his teeth, hands reaching for me as he snarls, “You b—”
But I’m not looking at him. Barely register the incoming attack. Because I only have eyes for Jake.
I’m frozen as he pulls a pistol from the back of his pants. A gun that I bought him. That he’s now raised, aimed in my direction as his mouth forms words I can’t hear.
I watch as his finger curls. Jump back as he pulls the trigger. Fall to the ground as the blast of the gun fills the narrow building, echoing off the rafters while my heart spasms erratically inside my chest.
The blood on my shirt is searing hot against my skin. I can’t stop staring at the wound, the dark crimson itleaks spreading in a growing pool across the floor, not quite believing my eyes. But it’s true.
Jake just inflicted what is sure to be a lethal injury.
He rushes over, falling to his knees beside me. Reaches a hand toward my face tentatively, like I’m a ghost and might vanish at his touch. His thumb brushes feather soft against my cheek, his eyes full of sorrow.
“Are you okay?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. I only nod.
Jakes turns toward Skunk, runs his fingers through his dark hair, tugging at it as he looks at the dying man with regret. “I told him to stop.” A shudder rolls through him as he whispers, “He didn’t listen. I couldn’t take the chance that he might hurt you.”
Twisting back toward me, he clears his throat and says, “We’ve got to get out of here.”
