Page 102 of Extracted

Silas stormed into the garage a step ahead of her. Ash stood near the chair, hands raised. “She pulled a gun on me—”

Silas let out a guffaw of laughter. He seized Gemma’s hair and propelled her in front of him. Her scalp burned as the strands threatened to leave the follicles. “This bitch here? She pulled a gun on you and you fucking let her leave?”

Ash’s face turned crimson, but the stark fear in his eyes overpowered his shame. “Took me by surprise. That’s all.” He kept his eyes on Silas, not looking at her for a second.

Regret stirred in Gemma’s belly. Part of her wanted to speak up, to protect this stranger who’d tried to help her . . . but she couldn’t. If she defended Ash, Silas would surely assume they were in cahoots.

Silas loosened his grip and shoved her aside. She stumbled but righted herself before hitting the garage floor.

“Ah, I see.” Silas said, his anger replaced with a condescending air. “Well, we can’t have you getting surprised by women half your size.”

He pulled a gun from the waistband of his pants, aimed at Ash, and fired. The bullet entered Ash’s forehead, and a red circle smaller than a quarter appeared between his vacant eyes. His body snapped backward, and his eyes rolled up as he slumped to the floor.

Gemma screamed and covered her face, turning from the sight. The scent of gunpowder filled the room, tainting the putrid air even more. Gemma’s hands were ice cold on her cheeks. Her chest heaved.

She’d failed.

There was no chance she’d escape now. Rough fingers seized her arms from behind, making her drop her hands away. Ash’s lifeless eyes stared back at her.

“Get her tied up,” Silas commanded. “We’ll do this outside.”

“No.” She dug her bare feet into the cement as the man dragged her over the garage floor. “You’re making a mistake.”

Silas’s derisive laugh boomed through the room, echoing off the walls. “You made the mistake when you fucked with me. Get her moving, Adam.”

She planted her weight, crouching in Adam’s hold so it’d be harder for him to propel her. “Go ahead and kill me. But the CIA knows you have me. When they find you, they’ll prosecute you for my death.”

Silas went still. His expression bore an emotion she couldn’t put her finger on. Not concern . . . A mixture of doubt and something else. He tilted his head to the side. “Say what?”

Her heart beat at a frenzied pace. She forced her tongue to move from the dry roof of her mouth. “The CIA. I’m an informant. That’s all.”

He took two steps closer, moving into her personal space. She didn’t back away. She’d keep some shred of dignity if it was the last thing she did. But her shoulders hunched involuntarily.

“Ain’t that some shit.” He jerked his gaze to Adam. “Did you suspect this?”

“Hell no, sir.”

Silas gave one nod and tucked in the corner of his mouth. Indecision carved itself into his features, making him appear stressed out for the first time since he’d grabbed her. He brought his hand to his abdomen again and took a step back then turned away.

He was thinking about what to do with her. What would draw the least amount of attention and what would save his ass.

Maybe he didn’t care.

“Fuck it. The bitch is probably lying.” He flicked the gun in his hand carelessly toward the door. “Grab the chair and take her outside. Nothing’s worse than the scent of burning flesh.”

“No!” The wail ripped from her chest. Adam reached for her. She shoved him in the abdomen, and he tripped over her discarded shoes.

Silas moved forward, but he was too slow. She charged for the open garage door. “Help! Someone help!” Her bare feet slapped against the narrow walkway. She pumped her arms as she ran.

She heard Silas angrily ordering his guy to get her, and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder as she rounded the side of the garage. Her hair fanned in front of her eyes, and she smacked it away. Adam was in fast pursuit.

The sharp gravel cut into the soles of her feet. If she tried to run for the road, they’d catch her. The tall grass next to the garage was easily six feet long, and the vacant lot beside her was full of overgrown brush and weeds.

She leaped into the grass.

The dry foliage crinkled and snapped as she ran, parting the weeds. Bugs flew up from their slumber, their wings swatting her in the face and their bodies pelting her skin. The grass scratched her bare arms and legs, but she didn’t slow.

Her breath came out in ferocious pants. The earth was cool beneath her feet, like a balm on her broken skin.

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