Page 139 of Come Break My Heart Again

ELLE: See you tonight.

I toss my phone onto the mattress, stand, and stretch. Tug a clean T-shirt on and take a seat at the small desk that barely fits in my room.

I’m too anxious to focus on much, but I manage to get some homework done while nervously watching the minutes tick by. Vacuum and do some dishes to help my mom out.

Finally, ten a.m. arrives.

I head outside to sit on the steps, my knee bouncing as I scan the street.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

I glance over at Mrs. Nelson, our next-door neighbor. She’s dressed in one of her typical flashy outfits. The yellow shade of her top is making my retinas burn.

“Sick day,” I reply.

“You look fine to me,” she comments, continuing to water the stalks that used to have flowers attached to them.

I’m not sure why she’s bothering. They won’t bloom again until next spring. But it hasn’t rained in a couple of weeks, so maybe she feels like it’s necessary to keep the plants alive.

“I’m feeling better.”

Mrs. Nelson harrumphs in a way that makes it clear she doesn’t believe I was under the weather at all, then heads into her trailer right as I spot a white sedan approaching.

I stand, my palms sweaty, as it stops right in front of me. Two guys climb out. The first one is huge, his biceps the same circumference of my thigh, and the second one is covered in tattoos.

“You Ryder?” the tattooed one asks gruffly.

I swallow as I walk toward them, trying to act like I have some control of this situation. I’ve seen more of Cruz’s operation than I ever wanted to, but never this part. “Yeah.”

The buff guy nods to his right. “Trunk.”

I walk around to the back of the car and open it. Two black duffel bags sit in the trunk. I hoist one in each hand.

“Aren’t you going to check it’s all there?”

“No,” I reply.

Tattooed guy shrugs. “Fine. Tell Cruz that Corey wants this moved fast. He’s behind this month.”

Delivering that message to Cruz is one of the last things I want to do. But I do want these guys gone, so I just nod, hoping it’ll speed along their departure.

“Let’s go.” The muscular guy slams the trunk of the sedan shut. “Gage?”

I glance at the tattooed guy—Gage. He’s staring down the street, the look on his face chilling my blood.

“I told you we had a fucking tail,” he spits.

Everything around me slows. Muffled, like I’m underwater. My gaze follows Gage’s.

Two black SUVs are racing up the road, a huge cloud of dust trailing them.

A loud swear, followed by an even louder slam. The white sedan takes off, leaving a spray of dirt behind.

I’m expecting the SUVs to chase the sedan. They stop in front of me instead, brakes squealing and sirens blaring.

I’m stunned still, my brain numb with shock.

And then … I remember what’s inside the two bags I’m holding.

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