He flinches.
He’s scared.
Damned right he’s scared.
“Afraid you’d miss me?”I say.
We move at the same time.
He swings first, looping his arms.I duck, step in, put a shoulder in his ribs and drive him back against the hot metal.He brings a knee up, but I twist my hips and catch it on my thigh.
It hurts.But it’s a good hurt.He’s in way worse shape.
“Key fob,” I say, voice flat.
“Go to hell,” he pants.
I pop him once in the stomach and slam my forearm across his collarbone and pin him with the car door.He coughs, tries to rake my face with his nails.I turn my head and feel one catch the outer shell of my ear.I don’t care.
“Keys,” I repeat.
He grins up at me through the dust.“Too late,cabrón.”
I trap his wrist, move it, find his front pocket.He tries to bite.I buck my forearm under his jaw until his teeth click together.The sound is satisfying.I close my fingers around a fob and take it.
He twists, but I have him trapped.
“Talk,” I say.
He laughs.“By the time you get there,” he says, his voice smug, “she’ll be in pieces.”
My vision tunnels.Blood roars.Every muscle in my hands wants to make him eat his own words, and I want that so much it scares me.
I loosen my grip by a millimeter so I don’t do something I can’t take back.
“What did you do?”I demand.
He licks his lip and smiles wider.“Franco likes endings,” he says.“Grand finales.She came, didn’t she?Like you knew she would.”
“What’s the timeline?”I grind out.
He shrugs against the door.“Ask the maestro.”
I don’t have time to unthread his riddles.
I step back and shove him, hard.He staggers, goes to a knee in the dust, and then flops onto his ass.He looks up at me like he’s measuring whether I’m going to kick him in the ribs.
I’m not.Not today.
I crouch and jam the fob in my pocket.The engine is still idling.I punch the power button and slam the door.The car locks with a chirp.
“Where?”I glance over my shoulder at him.“Where is the house?”
He laughs again, quieter.He knows I know.He knows everything that matters is already in motion and there’s nothing left to bargain with.
“Tick,” he says.“Tock.”
I stand.My legs are humming.My hands shake.
