Page 44 of The Plunge

Chapter 20

Libby

The car door slamming shut wakes me.

"Stay inside!" Keane barks at me when he sees me moving. He's already outside, one hand pointing at me while the other reaches for the gun he has holstered at his belt.

Fuck. We're in trouble.

I watch in horror as Keane approaches the man who looks like he's been waiting for us. Something about him seems familiar, but I can't quite place him. There's just a vague familiarity, a quiet sense of déja vu that grows stronger the longer I study the man's face.

But when the realization hits me, I wish I'd just left it be.

I've seen that man before. At the night of the event. He was one of the guys working with Keane.

He was on the rooftop with us. I only had a few glimpses of him as I went in and out of unconsciousness, catching little fractures of impressions when he was yelling at Keane.

He saw me that night. He saw me in Keane's arms as he carried me away from the scene.

He must know who I am.

And Keane is in trouble because of that. Because of me.

"No!" Keane snaps at me when I jump out of the car, raising my right hand in the air to show that I'm unarmed and mean no harm.

"Please," I say, directed at the stranger. "You're looking for me! Please don't do anything to him."

"Libby!" Keane yells, his voice unusually shrill. "Get the fuck back in the car, right now!"

"No!" I yell back at him, stepping closer. "I'm not going to let you get hurt because of me!"

"Oh, ain't that fucking sweet!" the other guy comments, adding a dirty laugh. "What a cute little lover's spat!"

He shakes his head, laughing as he looks back and forth between me and Keane, whose fingers are clenching around the gun in his right hand.

"She your girlfriend or what?" the guy asks, looking at Keane while pointing his finger at me. He takes a step forward in my direction, causing Keane to raise his gun and point it at him.

"Take one step farther, and you're dead!" he warns.

The guy laughs again, raising both of his hands in a defensive move.

"Whoa, whoa, buddy, you don't see me pointing a gun at anyone, do you?" he says, arching his eyebrows. "How about you calm down a little?"

"How about you tell me what you're doing here, Tom?" Keane responds, sounding so angry and tense that I'm actually afraid for the other guy's life for a moment.

Tom has a point. So far, Keane is the only one threatening anybody.

"Please, Keane," I murmur in a low voice, hoping to appease him with just the tone of my voice. He needs to keep a cool head, and right now, it looks like his fear for me and the tension that has built up over the past week are both getting the better of him. There's nothing levelheaded about the way he's acting right now. On the contrary, he seems too much on edge, ready to pull a trigger that possibly doesn't need to be pulled.

He may not have expected to see this Tom guy here, but the man is not visibly threatening us right now.

It works. Keane's eyes trail back over his shoulder, resting on me for a few seconds as if to make sure I really am okay before he slowly lowers his gun. His shoulders fall as the tension eases just the slightest bit, making room for the clarity we need right now.

"What are you doing here?" he asks Tom. "Why did you send the Covey after us?"

Tom doesn't respond right away. Instead, his gaze travels over to me, scanning me from head to toe, his eyes resting a little longer on my crippled shoulder and the arm resting in its splint.

"Elizabeth Caroline Abbott," he says, enunciating every syllable of my full name. Each and every single one of them sends a cold spark through my chest. It's as if he's undressing me, exposing my every little secret. By using my full name, he makes it seem as if he knew more about me than Keane. He's always just known me as Libby, the name I've used for myself since I was ten years old and tired of being called Elizabeth.

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