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“Hey, pal.” One of the guys who’d just handed over his ticket for the valet to bring his car around finally decided enough was enough. “Why don’t you back off?”
“Why don’t you mind your own goddamn business?” Wayne shouted.
Then his hand shot out and he grabbed my upper arm, tight, jerking me to him.
My heart stammered.
“You are just too stupid for words,” he told me in a low, menacing voice.
“Ari,” I heard Kyle in my ear. “What the hell is happening?”
“Big, bad Wayne Horton thinks he’s going to whisk me out of here and properly dispose of me,” I taunted. Against my better judgment. Yet I had to tip Kyle off without giving away the fact that he was listening in.
Still, panic seized me. But I only had one chance to finish this.
“You actually killed your own brother.” That seemed to be Wayne’s most vulnerable spot, so I twisted that knife.
“Yes, you dumb bitch,” he seethed in his quiet tone. “I killed my own fucking brother.” He leaned in close. “You’re next, pretty girl.”
A part of me wondered if there was still a card left to play.
What could it be?
Barely breathing, I managed to say, “You think this will close the loop. Complete Vale’s botched mission. Then you can vanish with whatever money you’ve collected, as you mentioned. But that’s not going to happen. You won’t get very far, what with all of these witnesses.”
“I am exceptional at disappearing.”
He had me on that one. But he didn’t know about my insurance policy—Kyle and the FBI.
“I’ll admit that you’re a slippery little sucker. Yet you made a huge mistake losing your cool just now.”
Agent Price brandished his weapon and was raising his arm to take aim at Wayne and likely demand he release me when Kyle suddenly rounded the corner of the building and said conspiratorially in my ear, “Go for the knee, Ari.”
I was at the perfect angle, partially aligned alongside Wayne. Without a second thought I raised my foot and slammed it against the outside of my captor’s leg. With all the rage he’d incited within me from day one.
“Fuck!” Wayne yelled in agony.
“Sucks to blow out a knee, doesn’t it?” I ground out, recalling Kyle’s stance on that particular injury.
Wayne called me all manner of colorful names—but also lost his grip on me. He staggered from the solid hit. Only momentarily, though, because Kyle launched himself at Wayne and tackled him. Kyle had Wayne on his stomach with his hands behind his back in no time flat. Quite impressive.
Agent Price now pointed his gun at Wayne’s head, whose face was plastered to the sidewalk as he continued to wail over the damage I’d inflicted.
With sufficient angst—and a dose of his own warranted arrogance—Kyle said, “Meet our friends from the FBI, motherfucker. You’re under arrest.”
I continued to stare at Kyle, rooted where I was, my eyes popping, my heart thundering. Agent Johnson’s SUV came barreling toward the porte cochere, horn blaring. He drove up onto the walkway, skidded to a halt, and jumped out. I remained paralyzed by the lightning-quick convergence. And the fear gripping me.
Kyle glanced my way. “This FBI shit is insane.” His handsome face lit up.
“Oh, no,” I said as I slowly shook my head, more fear clawing at me. I still couldn’t pull in a decent breath. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“I kinda like it,” Kyle told me with a grin, adrenaline practically glowing in his vibrant blue eyes.
“All right, honorary Agent Jenns,” Price said dryly. “You can let us take over from here. Thanks for the backup.”
I was finally released from my shocked state.
Backup? Ha!
