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“Stop!” I lunge over the back of the sofa to slap Liam’s phone out of his trembling hands, and he stumbles back in shock.
His fist is aimed at my face, but something tells me to lean back sharply. I can feel the air move as his knuckles pass in front of my eyes, and I kick Liam hard between the legs. He grabs his crotch and crumples to the ground like a wet piece of paper. I clutch my purse with stiff, clammy palms, panting harshly.
“What the fuck, Liam! Are you an idiot? I don’t work for whoever! You’re being paranoid!”
“Ugh,” Curling up on his side, Liam wriggles around, looking at me through tearful, red-rimmed eyes.
My screech does nothing to ease the turmoil in his gaze, and I squawk in alarm when he suddenly swipes out his arm. Knocking me off my feet, I land hard on my ass against the back of the sofa, and the world spins around me.
“That guy— he was telling the truth! You work for them!”
“What guy!” I shout, but Liam’s scrambling for his phone, and my panic rises. “Stop! Liam, no!”
I take the gun from my purse and cock the hammer, the horrifying click echoing throughout the living room. As a cold sweat breaks out under my clothes, and Liam freezes. I aim at him steadily while carefully climbing to my feet. Under hooded eyes, he looks at me, his face a mask of terror and betrayal.
“What... the hell are you talking about, you dumbass? I got this for protection,” I say harshly, my voice burning my throat. I’m lying, but he clearly doesn’t believe me anyway as he glances between his phone and me. “Don’t!”
I pull the trigger without thinking as Liam closes the few inches between himself and his phone. The bang of his collapse rattles my teeth and sends shivers up my bare feet. My eyes swell with shock as blood seeps from under his arm. I set down the gun and rush to his side to roll him onto his back.
My hands shake violently as they hover over him, my dead, dull eyes staring at an expression of horror frozen on Liam's face. Blood pours from the wound; the bullet must have passed through his lung and into his heart. My mouth dries up, and I swallow the dense lump in my throat.
“Liam! Liam!” My fingers are almost numb as I check for a pulse, but Liam was dead before he hit the hardwood. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”
I become cold and numb as I look around, stiffening as the blood seeps into my jeans at my knee. I leap to my feet and rush around the sofa, crawling under the coffee table to retrieve my phone. As I struggle to unlock the device, I break out in cold sweat, the hairs on the back of my neck bristling wildly. I can't breathe because my heart is clogging my throat and all of my blood is rushing to my head.
“Shit— shit,” I curse softly as I open the call dialer, only to pause. I can’t call 9-1-1. The gun’s not registered to me, and I don’t have a permit to carry it. They’ll find out it’s Jack’s in no time, and he’s gotta be onsomeone’swatchlist. “What do I do?”
My voice strains, painfully scraping my ears as I navigate to Jack's contact. In the deep, dense silence before I press the 'call' button, fear creeps up my spine. I sit against the sofa, staring blankly at Liam's body.
I needed to get rid of him, but not in this way. Liam may have been a difficult person to be around, but he did not deserve to die. Over a misunderstanding, no less! Why wouldn't he just listen to me?
“Heather?” Jack’s gravelly tone breaks my thoughts, and I hiccup a harsh breath. “Heather, are you there?”
“I need you.” I croak breathlessly, unable to say anything else. After a few moments of silence, Jack hangs up, and I drop my phone onto the floor with a clatter. Hugging my knees tightly, a whimper squeezes through my blocked throat, and I can’t take my eyes off Liam’s cooling body.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Jack
I fight an irritated sigh as I scan Heather's living room. She couldn't have shot her stupid roommate at any point during the three weeks we've been planning? It had to be two days before I assigned her to kill the mayor. It's far too late to hire someone; the cost would be exorbitant, and I wouldn't be able to vet the candidate.
“Heather,” I crouch down, and wide, glossy, brown eyes meet mine. Holding my hands, I nod encouragingly as Jimmy lets out a low, impressed whistle from behind me. Heather doesn’t seem to even see him as he walks over to Liam’s body. “Come with me,m'eudail.”
“H— he was g— gonna—” Heather's gaze flickers to Liam as she trails off hoarsely, but I grab her chin to force her to focus on me. I drag her to her feet, gripping her forearms, and she leans heavily on me. Her feet shuffle along the floor as I help her to the stairs. We arrive in her room in the blink of an eye, and I place her on the edge of the bed, knee down in front of her.
“Heather,” I call gently, and her eyelids pop open briefly before her gaze finds mine. Huge tears well in her eyes, and an uncomfortable ache forms in my chest. Reaching to caress her hot cheek, I attempt a comforting smile. “It’ll be okay, Heather. Trust me.”
Heather bites her bottom lip hard to stifle her sob, but only partially succeeds. Heather falls back, covering her face as she sobs uncontrollably; her cries echoing throughout her room. I sit back on my ass and wipe my face as I consider how to handle this.
I eventually get up and sit next to her, tentatively placing a hand on her back. She trembles, her muscles writhing beneath her skin. I keep my mouth shut for now, softly rubbing up and down her back. It's pointless to try to talk to someone who is hysterical, and I can't ignore the fact that this is traumatic for her.
“I k— killed him,” Heather wails. Burying her face in her blanket, she makes a sound I’d never heard before from anyone; somewhere between horrified and repulsed. I grimace, the ache in my chest spreading until it hurts between my ribs and up towards my throat. “Oh, God!”
“God won’t help you right now, Heather,” I mutter, and she freezes up under my palm. Twisting sharply, she glares at me through her tears, scowling even as sobs bloat her cheeks. “I’ll help you, though.”
“Y— yourhelp... I do— don’t want itt,” she stammers, twisting back around to cover her head with both her arms. I continue rubbing her back, feeling her shallow, shuddering to inhale. “Go away!”
“I won’t,” I answer firmly, unsure where my irritation with her impulsive act went in the face of her hurt. Why’d she call me if she didn’t want my help? Downstairs, I’d been annoyed, but at this moment... “You’re upset, Heather, and you have every right to be. What happened was tragic. It’s okay to cry.”
