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“I’m sure somebody else already did.”
I grit my teeth. Typical bystander effect is in full force, it seems.
My feet carry me forward. I have to hurry. I just hope I’m not too late.
The gathering crowd blocking the entryway is all the sign I need to know that Raquel is in there. I shove my way past them. I don’t know what I’m expecting, but seeing Raquel pinned to the wall by the throat awakens something in me.
Something dark and blood thirsty.
My body acts out of pure instinct. The sight of Raquel’s face turning purplish blue sends rage boiling through my veins. I tackle the man, throwing all my weight at him. He lands with a hard thud on the tile floor. Behind me, Raquel wheezes, grasping her throat as she staggers for balance.
There’s no time to check on her. No sooner do I get the guy to the ground does he nail me with a nasty left hook. The metallic tang of blood coats my tongue.
It’s safe to say I’m officially pissed.
He swipes at me with his toothpick of a knife. I block his attempt, grabbing his wrist and twisting as hard as I can. He cries out, face curling in pain as I hear the satisfyingpopof his wrist breaking.
With my knee jammed hard against his chest to keep him pinned, I grab the man by the collar of his shirt, slamming his head against the floor.
“Who are you?” I hiss. “What do you want with her?”
The man’s eyes roll back. He’s passed out.
Damn.
Behind me, Raquel coughs harshly. “We… We have to go.”
I get up in a hurry and go to her. Angry red welts wrap around her delicate neck. There’s no controlling the growl in my chest. I suddenly want to lay her assailant out all over again and give him a piece of my mind.
“Hurry, hurry,” she rasps, taking my hand and dragging me toward the back exit.
I don’t protest. The police are probably already on their way, and now we’ve been seen by countless witnesses. This is a fine mess, indeed.
We don’t stop running. Not until we’re nearly halfway across the city, hidden away in one of the many maze-like, forgotten alleyways between a pharmacy and a bakery. Surprisingly, I’m not as out of breath as I thought I’d be. Twenty years of being stuck behind a desk pretending to be a sedentary accountant thankfully hasn’t caught up with me as harshly as it should have.
The second we catch our breath, I put my hands on her shoulder and press her to the wall, seething. “I told you not to leave. It’s too dangerous.”
“I couldn’t understand you past your accent.”
My nostrils flare. “My English is perfect, thank you very much. You simply chose to ignore me. What the hell were you thinking?”
“You already know the answer,” she replies dryly. “Does it really bear repeating? You’re making me sound like a broken record. I need to find my—”
“Your father. Yeah, yeah.” I huff, frustration slowly ebbing. “Who the hell was that guy?”
“I have no clue.”
I squint at her. “No? Well, then you must have done something to really piss him off.”
She shakes her head, wincing the moment she does. Raquel’s throat looks even worse now that I have better lighting. It’s a miracle her voice isn’t hoarser.
“He wanted the cipher,” she answers finally.
“What cipher?”
“It was another code Dad left for me. I think it’s a clue to help find the encoded passwords to his offshore accounts.”
I frown. “Where is it, then?”
