Page 16 of Oh, Hell No

I hadn’t known he had a gun. Where had he been hiding it? Did he just walk around with one? The Mafia story seemed very legit now. I no longer doubted it.

Focus, Winslet! Think! The name of the man…you need a name, or you’re going to die. Am I going to die?

I heard a whimper and realized it had come from me.

“Who are you protecting?” he demanded.

“No one! I am trying to-to re-member his last na-name.” I stuttered out most of my words as my body trembled.

I’d been hit and slapped, had my bones broken, but I’d never had a gun pointed at me. This was a new level of terror.

I closed my eyes again because I wasn’t going to be able to think about anything other than that gun if I didn’t. Blocking out Oz, I played back the conversation from a few weeks ago.

Perry had taken me to dinner one night. He told me abouta new business venture he’d been working on. A guy he’d met at college—a talented artist. He thought I’d like him. He lived in Buckhead, Georgia. I didn’t know where that was, and he explained it was a wealthy residential area in Atlanta. Samson owned an art gallery and was brilliant in the stock market. The art gallery was…

What was it? Come on, Winslet. Think.

My eyes flew open. “Zephyr Galleries!” I almost shouted. “His name—he owns Zephyr Galleries. It’s an art gallery in Atlanta, and Zephyr is his last name. He lives in Buckhead.”

The gun lowered, and the relief that came from that should have made me feel guilty because I might have just led killers to an innocent man to save myself.

Oz kept his eyes on me as he lifted his phone to his ear. I swallowed hard. I really hoped Samson Zephyr was guilty. Which was also probably bad of me, but I didn’t want him to be innocent and die either.

“Zephyr Galleries. Art gallery in Atlanta. Samson Zephyr owns it and lives in Buckhead,” Oz said into the phone. He was silent for a moment, then said, “Yes,” followed by, “I am.”

Then, he ended the call and stood up, sliding the phone into his pocket.

He hadn’t taken my plate from me, but I quickly ate the last of the eggs and grabbed the last piece of toast. With my other hand, I took the water bottle and held it close to me, watching him warily. I wanted to keep this too. I’d given him a man that I didn’t know, someone who might be as innocent as I was in all this. But Perry didn’t have a big friend circle. It was as small as mine was, if not smaller.

“Get up,” Oz ordered.

I slowly stood, wincing from my sore muscles. My eyes went to where I had seen him tuck that gun behind his back. I didn’t want it to come out again.

“Let’s go.”

His words surprised me, and my eyes flew back to his face.

“Where are we going?” I asked, afraid to be relieved.

He might be handing me over to worse people. Some who wouldn’t feed me.

He raised an eyebrow, as if I had no right to ask him anything. I felt like it was a reasonable question. I just needed to prepare myself if he was about to give me my death sentence. Now that they had a name out of me, they might see me as a waste of time. Bad guys in TV shows did not let their victims walk free. I wasn’t stupid enough to assume he was going to call me an Uber and put me in it.

“Do you want to stay down here?” he asked.

I shook my head, then stopped. Maybe I did. I mean, if it was here or death, I was going with here. “Um, I mean, if it’s safe to leave. If not…I think I can stay here longer.”

Those dark brows of his drew together again. “What?”

I sighed, then held his confused gaze. “Are you taking me upstairs to release me to someone who is going to kill me?”

Slowly, a smirk curled his lips. I didn’t see how that was an amusing question.

Psycho. He was a psycho.

“No, Winslet. You gave us a lead. You get rewarded. I’m taking you upstairs so you can take a shower, brush your teeth, put on clean clothes. Use a fucking toilet.”

My eyes flew open wide. “Really?” I asked in shock.

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