Page 17 of The Sinner's Bargain

He pulled me into his arms. “You’ll learn and you’ll live.” He pulled back to peer into my face. “You’re going to be free, Naya, just like I always promised you.” His gaze flicked up to the window behind me. “Okay. We’re coming up. Remember to trust no one. Absolutely no one. Do you understand? Jarrett knows people everywhere. When you get to London, buy a box of hair color and color your hair. Give yourself a cut. Do whatever you have to do to look as little as you do right now as possible.” He looked over my shoulder again. “Okay, Wiley is the only black car parked right outside your door. When Asa stops at the lights, you’re going to jump out.”

“Malcolm...”

“Don’t argue! It’s coming up. Get ready.” He zipped up the bag and held it, face focused as we rolled slowly to a stop. “Now!”

Hands slick with sweat and shaking, I falter for just a moment before catching my fingers into the door latch. It gives much too easily given the sudden gravity pulling me down. Everything was happening with a fuzzy, yet oddly strange clarity I was having a hard time registering.

But I was in the street. The world rushed around me in vivid flare of lights and sounds I barely had time to process when Malcolm shoved the bag out after me.

“I love you,” he said, breathing hard. His blue eyes too bright in the darkness if the cabin. “Don’t ever forget. Now, go!”

He grabbed the door handle and yanked it shut before I could open my mouth.

Then he was gone and I was standing in the middle of a deserted street, clutching my whole world stuffed in a backpack.

CHAPTER FIVE

NAYA

Wiley, a sprig of a man with straw-colored wisps poking out around from under a baseball cap said nothing the first hour. Not even hello when I threw myself into the chipped backseat of his car and slammed the door with enough force to rattle the rusted frame. He let me cry until I couldn’t. Then he dug out a packet of tissues from the glovebox and held it over his shoulder while keeping one hand on the wheel.

“Thank you,” I whispered, not sure if he heard it, but too exhausted to repeat.

“You good?”

Tissue tucked under my nose, I shook my head.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured kindly. “Christopher seems to have it all figured out. I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

I started to ask who Christopher was when it dawned that Malcolm was using his middle name. It made me wonder just how long he’d been planning this. How methodical he’d had to be to ensure my safety. He was risking everything. His own life if Jarrett even suspected him of double crossing him.

The thought of Jarrett hurting Malcolm, killing him sounded ridiculous in theory, but I had no idea how far Jarrett was willing to go.

Surely not that far, the voice in my head thinks, but it’s not sure. I knew firsthand what money did to people.

Malcolm was right about one thing — Jarrett would consider it a personal attack to have waited that long, paid that much, been taunted, and promised only to have the thing stolen from him at the last moment.

My mind flashed back to Malcolm and all I could think was how Jarrett was going to kill my brother. He would do it hoping to scare me. He would do it out of anger and spite. And I would never know. I just left Malcolm back there to face Armageddon without me.

The tissue tore into a million shreds under my trembling fingers. I lost them in the white folds of my lap and the darkness.

“Do you want some music?” The cap cast shadows over his eyes, but they glinted slightly in the mirror.

“If you like,” I murmured, my voice hoarse.

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