Page 94 of Deliver us from Evil

“Get up,” the woman says.

I obey reluctantly, my mind churning with useless options. No way I can run past them. And the study only has one window—and it’s closed. Maybe if there’d been a gun in the safe…

“Shoes.” The woman holds out her free hand and clicks her fingers.

“You…want my shoes?”

It’s like there’s a swarm of bees droning in my head. The woman tilts her head, as if daring me to say no, and I quickly slip off my shoes.

“Toss them.”

I’m so fucking confused, but I throw them in front of the man wearing a black hoody. The other two are wearing dark sweaters, one with the collar of a polo shirt neatly arranged around the neckline.

Hoody picks up my shoes and tucks them under his arm. The man with the polo shirt sticking out of his sweater walks up to me.

I stiffen, my hands going into fists. But he walks right past, crouches, and picks up everything I’ve left on the floor—the passport, the money, the bible-safe. Then he goes over to the woman and puts everything inside her handbag while she holds it open, her eyes not leaving mine for a second.

“We’re going for a walk. If you make a sound, I guarantee you’ll need years of therapy to get over what they’ll do to you.” She cocks her head to the three men standing behind her. “Got it?”

My skin slowly starts crawling off my body. I nod, swallow hard.

I could still scream, of course. My men would be here in seconds. But they’d be walking into a gunfight with nothing but their fists. There’s no way in hell I’m letting any of them take another bullet for me. Not when it was my decision to come in here alone.

And I’d joked the front door was booby trapped? Lord, the irony.

The woman makes a show of sliding her gun inside her handbag, still pointing it at me but circumspect about it now.

Hoody moves behind me and grabs the back of my neck. Pushes me forward.

I don’t know what horrifies me more—the fact that his hand is cool and dry, or the considering look in his eyes when he passed me.

This can’t be happening.

Who the hell are these people?

They’re obviously here on a mission—they didn’t act surprised to see me here, or at the stack of money. And judging from their weapons, they came prepared.

Did Gabriel send them to search for the safe? Does that mean he’s not actually dead?

The thought sends an internal shiver through me.

I need to find out what’s going on.

“Who are—”

Polo Shirt moves so fast, I don’t have time to get my hands up to defend myself.

If Hoody hadn’t still had a grip on the back of my neck, I’d be sprawled on the floor from the brutal backhand Polo gives me.

My eyes water from the pain, and I lift an icy hand to my cheek, trying to soothe the heat.

The woman is smiling now.

Finally, something I recognize.

It’s the same smile Zachary wore the morning he told me to leave Saint Amos. When he had a knife up my skirt ready to slice and stab.

Enjoying my misery.

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