Page 133 of Reclaiming Adelaide

“Please—“

“Shut him up.”

“I’m only trying—“

“To do the right thing. Yeah, we know. The problem is, I want them dead more than I want you alive.”

“Get out.” Tonk opened the door and grabbed Yergi by the arm, dragging him out beside him.

“Yergi,” Sarkis said, clapping his hands. “It’s been a long time.” The man proceeded speaking in a language I didn’t understand while I slid from my seat.

“We thought you’d never find him,” Yervant said, his gaze following mine.

Was he sitting here watching like Yergi said? Or was he in some room in a far-off distance enjoying this very moment?

“Adelaide did.”

The man tipped his head back with boisterous laughter, its pitch bouncing around the alleyway—the alleyway filled with Yergi’s men who should be dropping like flies any moment.

If it weren’t for Tonk and his brutal attention to detail, we wouldn’t have had the element of surprise. As we spoke, our men stood behind us, above us, and all around us like an invisible cloak of protection, pinching in like a formidable vice, ready to squeeze the life from every single one of them.

I stepped forward, my grip on Yergi’s elbow, and jerked him toward Sarkis. Yergi spoke quickly in his native tongue, then switched to English. “Where’s Franklin? Was he good to you?”

“Franklin’s…” Yervant rubbed his forefinger and thumb together by his side as he paused. “Tying up loose ends.”

My stomach bottomed out when my high-pitched house alarm screamed from my pocket. Yergi turned his attention in my direction as my vision turned crimson red. I dropped his arm, wrapped my hand around my pistol, and pumped two bullets into Yervant’s skull.

38

Mymindplayedtrickson me with every wicked noise while I paced the neon computer room.

What was happening? What were they doing? Was Jake okay? Why didn’t Franklin kill me that night? Why didn’t he kill me when we’d spoken?

My stomach curdled as the lack of control tipped the scales. There wasn’t anything I could do, and it twisted my mind and gut until fire licked my skin, forming a bead of sweat.

Jake left me alone with Charity, whose rogue footsteps bounced outside this room. And even though there were security measures to keep me safe, I didn’t feel it.

My skin crawled with unease and hunger.

I slapped the back of my fingers against my other hand in time with my pacing feet. Control of the situation ripped free from my grasp, leaving me an unsettled mess. The image of Holeo and Franklin caught my peripheral vision with each pass I made, making the knot twist tighter in my stomach. I needed to get out of here, or I’d suffocate. I marched through the door, brushing past Charity, and made my way down the hall and to the kitchen with her on my heels.

“Where are you going? You were supposed to stay inside.”

My stomach popped and groaned with hunger.

“I’ll go back. I just need to eat,” I said, gathering the ingredients to make a sandwich.

“This is why I don’t babysit.”

A muffled thump like a bird hitting the window gave me pause, followed by a harsh, shrilling alarm. I jumped, losing grip on the pickle jar in my hands, and it shattered against the tiled floor with pickles and green juice spreading out like a flash flood.

“Fuck,” Charity said over the ear-piercing alarm with her shoulders hunched and her arms over her head. “Get down.” Lights flashed, a siren blared down the hall, and a mechanical voice calmly uttered, “Intruder.” I hunched over, following her direction as she rushed toward me and opened a double cabinet door. “Get in.”

“What?”

“I said, get in!” Charity pulled the pistol from her waistband and motioned me inside. I pushed the products to the back and slid in, my knees crunched to my chest. “Don’t move. I’m going to see what’s happening.”

“Don’t leave me,” I squeaked like an out-of-tune trumpet.

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