Page 56 of Second Chance Serenity

“Let’s just say he and I have a score to settle.” He clasps his hands together. “Now. Answer the questions, or I will find a way to make you less comfortable.”

“I got nothing. Carter and I had a falling out when—as you said—I left Reyna to join the service. I know nothing about his life, his routine, or anything that will be of any help to you.”

“Then why do I leave you alive?”

I shrug. “I guess you have no reason to do so.” It’s dangerous, calling the bluff of a man like the one across from me, but it’s all I’ve got. I have to bank on the fact that there’s a reason he’s coming to me with these questions rather than going to Reyna when realistically, she’s the one who will have the answers.

“I guess we need to go see your girl,” he says. “One way or another, I’m going to find out everything I want to know.”

“You certainly seem like the type to try.”

“Try.” Chuckling, he shakes his head. “You are going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

I smile. “I’m not hired for my sunny demeanor,” I reply.

“Well—” He comes forward, tilting his head up since he’s at least half a foot shorter than I am. “Let me explain something to you, Mr. Anderson. I am not, in any way, shape, or form, similar to the types you’re used to dealing with. I do not fail. I do not give up. And one way or another, I will get Carter Acker’s head on a silver platter. Now, it’s up to you whether or not your sister and his make for a trio.” He straightens and turns to Asher. “Let him sweat it out. I’ve got things to deal with, but go ahead and see the girl.” He looks back at me. “We’ll start with her.”

CHAPTER 18

Reyna

The interview room I woke up in consists of four concrete walls—one with a door, another with a viewing mirror. A steel table is bolted to the ground, and two metal folding chairs sit on either side of it. The cot I was lying on when I came to has no blankets and is situated on the far wall, opposite the door.

It’s a nearly exact replica of any police interview room on any crime show ever, but I know, without a doubt, it’s not the police who brought me here. As far as I know, they don’t crash into the side of your vehicle…and they don’t shoot you with tranquilizer darts.

I run my hand over the back of my neck, rolling it to try to alleviate some of the tension. Every inch of my body aches from the impact, though when I woke up, I discovered my forehead had been bandaged, which means whoever grabbed us wants me alive…right?

Michael. He’d been shot and on the side where the truck hit us. Is he even alive? Tears fill my eyes, but I quickly blink them away. I need to get myself out of here, then I can go for him. Isn’t that what they tell you on airplanes? Fix your own oxygen mask first?

God, please let him be alive. Guide me to him. Help us get out of here.

Shoving the fear down, I focus only on the task at hand. Getting out of here has to be my top priority, so I aim to keep my heart rate steady and conserve my energy, and try not to catch someone’s attention.

I remain standing, my hands on the back of the chair since it’s the only weapon I see. Aim high, swing fast. Just like softball. Kind of. I was good at softball. Thing is, the timing hast to be right because whoever comes in, can’t see it coming.

The door opens and my heart hammers as a man wearing a shoulder holster steps in. His firearm is on plain display, and the folder in his hands looks relatively thin.

No badge anywhere in sight.

But his knuckles are bloodied.

Michael. Please be alive.

“Who are you, and why am I here?” I demand.

“My name is Asher,” he replies with a smile. He looks to be about my age, his hair cut short—prior military, maybe? He takes a seat at the table and gestures for me to sit. A large tattoo starts on the side of his hand and snakes up his arm, disappearing into the sleeve of his shirt.

“Why am I here?” I ask again.

“You’re here because we need information.”

“Who is we?”

He smiles. “I work for a very small law enforcement agency branched off of the FBI.”

“Then you won’t mind showing me ID.”

His smile turns savage. All teeth. “Of course not.” He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a leather badge holder. After flipping it open, he lays it on the table. I inch closer and take a look.

---