Page 122 of Gambler's Fallacy

“We need to… to get their keys. Drive the van away. Or…” I grimace as I finish unknotting the second side. Even with a car, I have no clue where we are, and driving aimlessly through the desert is a bad idea. I can only hope there’s a dirt road of some sort, but I hadn’t been able to see anything from the back of the van.

Seven gets up to his feet, swaying before he grabs the back of the chair. “How are we going to do it?”

He sounds less defeated now, more determined, and I pull him into a quick, searing kiss. He gasps and leans into it, and his eyes are dazed when I break the kiss.

“Go out that window,” I say, pushing him toward the back wall of the shack. “Try to stay hidden. Whatever you do, don’t let the shack ever get out of sight.”

He swallows hard, but he nods. He gives me a desperate look, then he turns for the window, quietly opening it and climbing out. I wait until he lands on the other side, rubbing my wrists again.

Then I head out the door. Earl and his goons are arguing near the van.

“Where’s the water?” I ask. “I’m dying of thirst.”

Earl flips me off. “Be patient, Caleb. Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

There’s a new car next to the van—Earl’s white SUV that’s now covered in a thin layer of dust.

The keys must be on Earl somewhere.

“I’d be more patient if I hadn’t sweated through my entire suit already,” I answer. I take the suit jacket off, and the shirt underneath is indeed soaked. I’m going to have to toss this suit.

“If you didn’t insist on wearing suits all the time,” Earl counters.

I step closer, and I wish I knew which pocket his keys are in. I’m not a deft pickpocket, and I have only one chance to check.

Before I get to that stage, though, the gunman suddenly shouts, “Hey! Where’s the kid?”

Fuck. He’d gone back to the shack without me noticing.

The Diamante levels his gun at me. “You did something.”

“Don’t shoot him!” Earl shouts, tackling the Diamante.

The gun goes off, the bullet whizzing past me and shattering the window of the SUV.

Shit. I toss my jacket at both of them and take off in a run.

TWENTY-EIGHT

HAVOC

I’m suddenly reallyglad the military trained me in navigation, and that we’d done exercises out in the desert.

I spot the tire tracks after half an hour of driving. “There,” I say, pointing. “Follow those.”

Vortex lets up on the gas, his eyes scanning our surroundings. “Those are fresh,” he says. “How many people did Caleb’s driver say there were?”

“He didn’t get a good look,” I answer. I pull out the binoculars I’d bought and try to get a better view. “At least two.”

Far in the distance, I spot something that looks like a shack. There’s a van and an SUV parked in front, with a rusty water collecting system next to the building. I lower the binoculars, but it’s hard to tell how far away anything is in the desert expanse. The clear air makes a lot of things look closer than they actually are.

“There’s a shack in that direction,” I say. “Two vehicles in front of it. I bet that’s where Caleb and Seven are.”

“It’s gotta be,” Vortex says with a grunt. “So we’re probably talking between three and eight. The odds aren’t bad.”

They could definitely be worse.

“They’re still going to see us coming,” he adds. “If not the tires, the dust. Fuck, I don’t like this at all.”

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