AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Let us worry about that,” I tell him as I tie the knot tighter around his ankles.
He goes quiet for a second, and then he says with startling calmness, “You should kill me. She’s going to send me after you again.”
“Probably.” I shrug. “But you know. A lone wolf has bite, but the pack has might.”
Jacobi doesn’t say anything else after that.
We leave him tied up in the bathroom and quickly make our exit. The window is completely busted out, there are bullet holes in the walls, and the cops are going to be here any minute.
“Where are we going?” Finley asks as we start to the car.
“Away,” I tell her.
I can’t think any further than that.
I can’t think of anything right now.
My head is pounding, and my heart feels like it’s going to rip out of my chest. The car is only a couple of feet away from the motel room, but my feet drag with every step.
It’s like walking through goddamn quicksand, and I stumble forward. My hand braces on the hood of the car, and the chill burns my palm.
“Archer?” Finley asks.
And my name on her lips is the last thing that reaches my ears before black clouds roll over my vision.
17
ARCHER
When I wake up, there’s a teddy bear staring me down.
He’s chestnut brown, well-worn, and his black, shiny eyes watch me vacantly from the shelf stuffed with five other equally lifeless animals.
I don’t recognize the bedroom I’m in. The sunflowers on the wallpaper. The baby blue bedspread and comforter.
From the plethora of stuffed animals and the motivational wall art that spells out “Badass Bitch” above the headboard, I’m guessing this is a woman’s room. On the dresser, there are a couple of photos: a young dark-skinned woman, about Finley’s age, standing with her family. Another picture of her with friends and a third with a boyfriend.
Slowly, I shift to sit up in bed. I’m shirtless, but I’ve still got my pants on, at least. The sheets slide off my chest, and immediately, a hit of pain blossoms up my chest and shoulder, and I intake a hissed breath. There’s a thick bandage around my chest, hugging underneath my armpit.
“You’re going to want to take it easy,” a voice says. There’s a man in the room with me—I don’t know how I didn’t see him before. He’s sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, flanked by a second bear that’s nearly the same size as he is—the kind a good boyfriend would carry home from the fair.
He’s an Indian man, slender, with dark, intense eyes. I size him up immediately and conclude that I could take him down if I had to, even with the banged-up shoulder.
Instinctively, my hand slides to my side, but I’m not wearing my shoulder holster. The edge of the stranger’s mouth twists down, and he asks, “Looking for this?”
Then he pats my holster, which is folded up on the chair beside him, my gun snug in its pocket. “Don’t worry,” he says, “you don’t need this here.”
That doesn’t reassure me, but I say nothing.
“Tasha!” he calls out. “He’s up!”
Seconds later, a woman rushes into the doorway. I recognize her as the woman from the photos, only she’s prettier in person—caring eyes, dark hair an explosion of tight curls that frames her face. When she spots me, her eyes go wide, and a smile lifts her lips.
“Holy shit, buddy,” she says. “You gave us a scare there for a minute.”
She comes in and sits down on the edge of the bed beside me. Her eyes flicker over my face, studying. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” When her fingers adjust the bandage around my chest, however, I have to grit my teeth to keep from swearing at her. The first question out of my mouth is “Finley…is she…?”
