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“Because you fucked this up for all ofus,” he said in a harsh whisper. “If I would have known thatthatwas what you were doing when you were getting the money, I would have tried to talk some fucking sense into you, but look at us now!”
“Look at us?” I asked with a huff. “Look atyou.You could have let me go. You could have let me walk away. You and I both know it has taken more resources for you to scramble to try and find me. Something I'm sincerely surprised about because I know your record for tracking and it fucking sucks.”
He puffed up like he was ready to explode.
“I had help,” he said.
“Help from who?” I asked. He shook his head angrily.
“I wouldn’t be doing this if the client wasn’t so fucking pissed,” he grumbled under his breath. “I told you it would be bad for us all if you attempted this.”
Confusion and anger swept through me. I leaned to the side, looking back at the men and desperately trying to ignore the pain radiating from the gunshot wound.
He hadn’t hit anything vital.He hadn’t hit anything vital.That had to mean something.
“The client isdead,” I said, looking back at him. “Don’t tell me youweren’twatching the headlines before they got pulled. Her husband is gone, and from the looks of it, Alec Crowe won’t be coming for her any time soon. He wouldn’t care about a lackey enough to come after us.”
There was a hunch. A feeling in my gut that turned sour as soon as we walked away from his mangled body. I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to live in the delusion that we had single-handedly killed the person who was making our lives so difficult.
The way his grip on the gun tightened only made me more sure of my feelings.
The people watching us were not a part of our organization.They were the clients.So the people that took me and Blake were the same. I watched them, tried to fight them off as they swarmed the diner. But there were just too many of them.
Blake had been loaded up into a cop car, me into an all-black windowless van. The difference in how they treated us gave me a good fucking idea about what our fate was.
Little Blake had too many people who would miss her. Too many secrets in that pretty head of hers that would go to waste.
On the other hand, I was a dangerous loose end that needed to be dealt with.
And who better than Rolf?
Rolf looked back into the warehouse and at the men who were watching us. He had this nervous tic. His hands would twitch whenever his panic was starting to take over his senses.
Just like now.
These weren’t our fucking men. Rolf was in the same position as I was, and at the mercy of our client.Because that had to be who sent them, right?
The client was pissed,was what he uttered.
In that moment, I saw Rolf in a different light.
Up until now, I had felt like my surrogate father had been slowly betraying me. Had been ready to decommission me as soon as I fucked up and tried to work me over until exhaustion.
But as he turned toward me, his face pinched with stress and a frown marring his face, I could see the weight of the client behind him. I could see just how much he didn’t want to do this. See just how much power they had over him.
“Leave me to say my goodbyes. I have things to say that are not for your ears,” he ordered them. There was a pause, two of the men looked to the far right at the leader.
He was silent for a moment before he paused and motioned for his men to leave.
“You get three minutes,” he said and followed them out.
As soon as they left, Rolf leaned down, his expression taking a turn.
“I need you to listen to me carefully,” he said, reaching behind me to undo the ties on my wrists. “There is an exit out back, you need to sprint there. My car is a block away—” He fished out his keys from his pocket and pushed them into my hand. “Tiffany is at the police station two miles down the road. Senator Bennett is probably already—”
“Senator Bennett?” I echoed, grasping the cool metal of his car keys in my palm. My mind was whirling.
“He’s the client, Quinn,” he said. His crazed movements stopped, and he gave me a look that was so full of sorrow it caused my heart to drop into my stomach. “Listen, Quinn, one last thing…”
