He drops to a knee, his body sagging as he reaches for his side. A red circle is blooming on his shirt.
My lips part in horror as it all starts to register and the world speeds up again.
A third pop buckles Dean completely and he thumps to the floor, his face slapping against the hard tiles. His dead eyes stare at the wall, still open but not seeing a thing.
Trembles rocket through me, like my own personal earthquake.
My mouth keeps opening but no sound is coming out.
“Aw, shit. Luis! You always have to be so damn trigger-happy?” Mr. Suit steps back from Dean like he’s worried the dead man might make him dirty.
“He was about to punch that pretty face of yours.” Mr. Mustache grins and winks. “Can’t let that happen. Right, boss?”
Mr. Suit smirks, then raises his chin at the guy behind him.
“Buster, get this cleaned up, will ya? Shove him in the trunk or something. We’ll deal with it later.”
The big guy grunts and bends down to move Dean. Treating him like a sack of grain, he hauls my stepfather out the back door like he’s nothing but a piece of trash. A trail of blood is left in his wake.
I stare at the red liquid, cruelly mesmerized by it.
“What…?” I gasp for air, gulping and retching as my brain starts to catch up, reminding me that this is, in fact, reality.
“Put that away before we have another dead body on our hands. We need someone to talk to.” Mr. Suit scrubs a hand over his mouth, still muttering under his breath. “Now, I’m gonna have to pull strings and get this covered up. I don’t know as many cops here, Luis.”
“Sorry, boss,” the guy mumbles, tucking the gun back into his trousers. “We’ve got that detective in Oklahoma City though, right?”
The guy grunts, pulling out a pristine white cloth to dab his forehead. “Yeah, I can probably work the county sheriff too. Let’s deal with this first.” He raises his chin at me.
Luis is still fisting my uniform. The collar’s digging into the back of my neck, but I can’t move to save myself.
Air is stuck in my mouth. I’m trying to breathe. Inhale. Something! But it’s not working.
With a soft tut, the gunman brushes his gloved finger down my cheek.
I can’t even flinch away from his touch.
I’m frozen.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Find your tongue, Annie. Use it! Tell these guys to eff off!
My mouth opens and shuts a couple of times, my eyes darting to the floor and that trail of blood. Dean’s dead gaze is haunting me.
“So, little one,” the man coos. “What’s your name?”
There’s a boulder in my throat, but I manage to swallow it somehow.
Glancing up at the man, I lick my lips and whisper, “What’s yours?”
He smirks and his soft touch turns hard. He grabs my cheeks the way Dean always did and gets in my face. “We’re looking for someone. Michael Adams.”
“I don’t know him.” It’s my immediate response.
Hearing Michael’s name makes my blood run cold.
Is this the man he stole from?
The one who shot him?
“Oh, come on. The cops found my car in the woods just north of here. He stole it, and I shot him, which means he had to recover somewhere. And the very helpful man at the gas station tells us you’ve got a new chef. Just recently. Thought his name might be Michael.” His beady eyes stare me down.
I try to keep my expression bland and clueless.
Mr. Suit steps up behind the one holding me and snaps his fingers near my face. “You work here, and this is the only diner in town.” He pulls a photo from his pocket, and I have to stare at Michael’s face.
He looks lost and sad, like he didn’t even know the photo was being taken. He’s staring at nothing and no doubt remembering something from his past.
His mama?
His grandpa?
My eyes burn, yet I can’t stop gazing at the picture.
Michael.
My heart weeps.
“Well?” The big man snaps his fingers again.
His hard gaze is trying to peel back my lies.
Clenching my jaw, I shake my head. “I don’t know any Michael. We’ve got a Miguel. He’s new,” I lie, fighting to keep my gaze steady. “Maybe this guy you’re looking for came through, but I don’t remember. We get lots of people in this diner.”
The gunman snickers and grabs a fistful of my hair, snapping my head back so I’m forced to look at him.
It hurts, but I’m not about to let him know that.
Straining against the tears burning my eyes, I keep my teeth smashed together and stand strong, even when he calls me out. “You’re lying, blondie. Where is he?”
“I don’t know!”
That part is the truth. I kicked him out, and he’s probably long gone.
Thank God.
I hope he’s far away.
I hope he’s caught a ride and he’s safe.
He may be a thief, but he didn’t steal from me. Dean did.
And as much as I wish Michael were here right now, I’m glad he’s not. I want him to get to that ranch. To have a good life.
Thoughts of him consume me until tears are building on my lashes.
“Tell us where he is and Luis will stop hurting you.” Mr. Suit smiles like we’re having a pleasant conversation after church or something.
My eyes snap to his, and I answer him with the truth. “I told you, I don’t know.”
His gaze turns dark and malevolent. The man holding me grips my hair a little harder. It’s really starting to hurt now. I can’t help a soft whimper.
“He’s been in here, and you know him!” Mr. Suit’s voice rises to a thunder. “He took something from me. I need it back.”
“He’s not here. I don’t know where he is. And that is the truth!”
Luis huffs like I’m a big inconvenience and pulls the gun from his pants.
I can’t hold back the tears now. As he pushes it into my cheek, I whimper and squeeze my eyes shut.
I can feel the tears rolling down my face. They’re not for me. I’m worried about Jackson. He can’t come home to this. It’ll destroy him.
But I can’t make up some bullshit story to appease these men.
I kicked Michael out!
“I swear to God,” I sob. “I don’t know where he is!”
“I’m here.”
My eyes snap open with a gasp.
Michael!
There he is. Standing in the doorway.
He’s got this fierce expression on his face, and he’s glaring at Luis like he wants to demolish the guy.
His voice is a rough growl, his fingers bunching into two fists as he orders the men away from me.
“Let. Her. Go.”
43
Anything for Her
My blood has never been so hot.
Never in my life have I wanted to kill someone before, but I swear if Luis doesn’t get his hands off Annie, I am going to end him.
Yeah, I’m terrified.
Scared enough to be fighting the urge to pass out, but the tears on Annie’s face, the fear in her eyes… it’s creating this tornado of rage inside of me.
The second Jackson and I stepped around the corner and I saw Buster slamming the trunk of Sloan’s Chrysler, I knew Annie was in trouble. I yanked Jackson back before he saw anything.