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That nugget of realization had me even more desperate to sit and evaluate this entire situation, but I was on borrowed time.
Quickly coming up with a wild, may-possibly-get-me-killed plan, I whipped my phone out and read the last text he’d sent.
It was a simple three worded message.
Mateo: I’ll find you.
I swallowed around the sudden obstruction lodged in my throat. How was he always so in sync with me? Knowing my every move?
Hitting reply, I typ
ed out a quick response of a lie riddled with truths.
Me: I’m not running. I just need to get away. I’ll come back to you. Promise.
Not waiting for a response, I jammed the phone back in my rear pocket and rushed over to Raine’s closet.
It was damn near impossible to ignore the deep suture in her throat that had caused the life to drain from her body in a mess of reddish-brown liquid.
Her fixed, glassy eyes blankly judged me as I reached in and yanked a bright pink hoodie off a hanger.
I slipped it on and grabbed my box of ashes before dashing out into the hall. My phone vibrated with another call, followed by a text.
I continued to ignore it.
I was hoping on a silent prayer that Mateo didn’t dispense any suit-clad henchmen to drag me back to him.
Moving into Raine’s parents’ room, I took a second to carefully study the interior, spotting what I wanted on a nightstand.
I stepped over her father’s body whilst managing not to look down, and lifted his wallet.
I’d just touched back down on the first floor when I heard a car door slam.
“Shit,” I mumbled, creeping towards the front window. Shifting the wallet and my box of ashes into one hand, I wet my lips and cautiously lifted one corner of the thick curtain obscuring my view.
I caught a brief glimpse of two men and what I believed was a Porsche, immediately my pulse to spike. I darted away after double checking the front door was locked.
From what I’d seen thus far, Mateo’s men drove the same brand of SUV, which meant these visitors more than likely wouldn’t be pleased to find me here with three dead bodies, and one of the deceased’s wallets in my hand.
“They said she’s inside.” A heavily accented voice reached my ears as I crossed the threshold into the kitchen.
Were they talking about me?
Hearing footsteps on the back deck, I snagged a purse off the breakfast bar and headed in the direction I hoped the garage door was.
I made my way around a coffee table, a massive sectional, and a bamboo plant as quickly and as quietly as my legs would carry me.
Finding what I prayed was the correct exit, I cautiously reached for the door knob. Relief flooded through me when vapid heat rushed at my face and two cars appeared in my line of vision.
I slipped through the small gap in the door and gently pulled it closed, creeping towards the cherry red sports vehicle on the far side of the garage, acutely aware of the men now inside the house.
Luck was apparently on my side because the door popped right open and a key fob with a BMW symbol embellished on the back was resting right in the center cup-holder.
It was pretty damn bold to leave the key to something so expensive so readily available for anyone itching to take a spin in a stranger’s sports car.
Then again, it probably would have been no big deal for these people to call up their insurance company, file a claim, and have the car replaced all within the same day.
Placing my box on the passenger side floor and the purse and wallet on the seat, I shut myself inside and began searching for a garage door opener.
