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“Can you see the entrance from here?” I ask, looking out the window back toward the motel.
“We’re going to move further out,” he says, starting the engine. “Got cameras on the place. Don’t need to be right here if bullets start flying.”
He drives out of the lot, and that’s when it hits me. “You’re not FBI, are you?” I ask.
He glances my way, a smile forming on his lips. “What gave it away?”
My heart sinks and I feel a terror rising in my stomach. I push it down. Panic won’t keep me alive. Jack told me not to let anyone in. What did I do? Open the door to the first person who knocks.
I can only blame fear and exhaustion. That and my stupidity.
“Sent you a message,” he says. “Tried to get you to run, but you just had to stay put, didn’t you? Dumb bitch.”
As he speeds up on the road, I lunge for him, hoping we’re not going too fast for this. I gouge at the side of his face and the tires squeal, the van shifting left and right.
“Get off me,” he roars, trying to push my hands away.
I go for his eyes, making him panic as he flails in place. The van lurches onto two wheels, spinning around and crashing into an advertising hoarding on the side of the road. There’s a strange moment of weightlessness and then it crashes onto its side. He hasn’t got his belt on and he falls on me, the weight of him making me dizzy.
I shove myself out from under him, clambering into the back of the van. “Get back here,” he snarls, reaching out for me.
I keep moving, shoving the back door open, tripping and falling as I get into the open. I gain my feet as he appears from the van, gun in hand. “Where are you running to?” he shouts. “Can’t outrun a bullet.” There are the lights of a car racing toward us. It’s going to hit the van.
I hear a shot and I wince, waiting for the pain to begin. Nothing happens. I look down. No holes in me. The only damage is the ringing in my ears from the noise.
I turn around slowly. My attacker is on the floor, not moving, blood pooling underneath him.
The car is parked up next to the van. Leaning out the driver’s window is a gun. The hand holding it belongs to someone I know. “Jack?” I ask as he gets out of the car. “Is that you?”
He’s still got the pistol pointing at the man on the floor. “Clarissa,” he says. “Go get his gun.”
I walk toward the figure, trying not to look at his vacant face. I pick the gun up out of his hand, stepping back quickly. “Bring it here,” Jack says.
“He’s dead,” I tell him. “He’s not going to do anything.”
“You can never be sure. Bring it here.”
I do as he says. He’s not watching me, he’s still watching the corpse. “You all right?” he asks. “Did he hurt you?”
“Who was he?”
“One of your uncle’s Capos. Not one I’d met before yesterday.”
“How did you know he’d taken me?”
“Got to the motel in time to see you two getting into the van. I hung back in case he had Sophie, but when I saw you start swerving on the road, I closed in.”
“I thought you said I’d be safe with you around.”
“I made a deal with your uncle, but this asshole was there, heard the figures that got mentioned. Obviously thought he could get in there first, take the glory and the cash. Some bastards got no scruples. My flight was delayed, else I would have been back last night. I’m guessing he paid the right people to delay it.”
“How did he find me?”
“Same way I did. Tracked your phone. Where is it?”
“Back in my room.”
“Leave it there. Anyone else will end up here and the trail will go cold. By the time they pick it up, I’ll have dealt with your uncle.”
