Page 42 of Kilo's Edge

“Only one of the men was speaking. He was threatening Dad. Over and over, telling him that he was going to kill Dad. To kill us. I was frozen in place. I knew I should leave. Should run, but I couldn’t move.”

“You’re safe,” Kilo murmured.

There were tears streaming down my face. When I’d given my statement to the authorities my eyes had been bone dry both times. I knew I was crying now because I was with someone safe. Someone who could shoulder the burden for me, for a little while, as I expelled all the vileness from my system. I was too afraid to speak to anyone about it, even a therapist. The last thing I needed to do was put someone else in Kruzman’s line of fire. So I’d been holding this all in. For four damn years.

“I don’t know why they were there. Why this guy was threatening Dad. Everything happened so fast. Dad didn’t even say a word. He just sat there, behind his desk, quiet. Almost like he was resigned to it.” I turned my head and stared at Kilo. “The FBI thinks Dad must have done something wrong, but they don’t know what.”

“That must have been so hard,” Kilo said in a soothing tone.

I nodded and used the back of my hand to wipe away some of the tears. “Kruzman just…let out this disappointed sigh and gave the order. His men were the ones who shot my dad. But it was because of Kruzman.”

Kilo stiffened beneath me. “Alec Kruzman?”

I nodded in misery. “The high-powered businessman everyone suspects has cartel connections? Yeah, him.”

“They saw you?”

“No. Once the guns fired, I ran.” I gave a humorless laugh. “Brave, right?”

“It would have been suicide to stay, Camila.”

I sighed. I knew that, but it didn’t ease the guilt that plagued me. I’d run off and left my dad to die alone. It didn’tmatter that Dustin told me the Medical Examiner said he’d died instantaneously. The guilt was still there. “I called the cops from my phone and it went from there. Once the FBI stepped in, they offered us protective custody until the trial. But Kruzman found us. They think he paid someone off to get my name. So, they arranged for us to disappear.”

“How many times has he found you?”

“Three times. That’s why I was so hesitant to even talk to you at first,” I told him, staring into his beautiful brown eyes. “I don’t know when we’ll have to run again. The trial keeps getting pushed back because of appeals. I don’t know when, or if, this is ever going to end.”

Kilo’s arms tightened around me and I laid my cheek on his chest and soaked in his warmth. It wasn’t cold out, that was impossible in Arizona at the end of August, but I was still freezing.

He picked me up, taking me back into his bedroom and settling into his bed with me. “I don’t want you to worry.”

I let out a soft laugh. Nothing was funny. I was just exhausted. Tired of running. Of hiding. Tired of everything. “Sometimes I wonder if it would be best to give myself to him as long as he promised not to hurt my mom or sister,” I whispered in the dark.

“Don’t say that,” Kilo snapped. “Don’t even think that shit. He’ll kill you.”

I knew that. And I didn’t want to die. It terrified me, but even more, I didn’t want anything to happen to my family. “Do you think I made a mistake agreeing to work with the FBI?”

“No. I think they’re the reason you’re still alive. Even though they’re doing a shitty job of keeping you safe. If you hadn’t gone into witness protection, Kruzman would have found out about you anyway. And then no one would be helping you.”

I sighed and laid there in his arms. He was right. I knew it. Once they started suspecting that someone had been paid off, they’d found a couple Marshals that were single and moved around with us. Dustin had been with us since we went into witness protection. He’d done his best to keep us safe. Sometimes I thought it was a losing game for him. Kruzman had money, power, and time. I had nothing.

“Is that even your name? Camila?”

“It is now. That other girl is dead and gone,” I told him.

“Then I’m going to give you my own name.”

“What’s that?”

“Mercy.”

I smiled and cuddled closer. Mercy was a nice name. Mary had mentioned, when she told me about clubs, that the men would often give their old ladies their own names. I loved that he was doing that for me. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m so glad I met you, Kilo.”

“Don’t do that,” he warned.

“Do what?” I asked, voice soft.

“Don’t say goodbye. You’re not going anywhere. And neither am I.”

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