Page 68 of Finders Keep Her
Cyberius shakes his head, sitting up straighter, his eyes slowly blinking. He appears dazed, his hair sticking out in different directions.
“What, ah!” he screams, noticing the knife sticking out of his hand. I can see the immediate panic in his eyes.
“That looks like it hurts. Seems like Ronan is trying to best me with his knife skills. This is bullshit.” Cosima couldn’t care less that Ronan had stabbed Cyberius, just that he did it so well.
“Marks?” he whimpers, his eyes coming to the computer screen. I turn my cameras so that he can see me. “You’re here.”
“Everyone will know who you are and what you’ve done. I win,” I tell him.
“All I do is win, win, win no matter what,” Cosima sings T-Pain. I can’t help but snort a laugh. It was her favorite thing to say into the mic when we played video games together. She enjoys riling the boys up online.
"You have to help me, Marks. He's the crazy one. I’m trying to save you from him. You have no idea who you're dealing with," Cy says, completely ignoring Cosima.
"You're right." I nod in agreement. His brows rise in surprise, and Cosima peeks over at me. "I thought he would have taken one of your eyes."
Cyberius gapes at me before realizing I’m not going to help him. He wraps his hand around the knife. For a second I think he is going to get up the courage to pull the knife out, but just as he makes a move, a bag is thrown over his head.
Rocco pulls the knife out, making Cyberius scream like a little bitch behind the hood.
“Well then.” Cosima stands, offering me her hand, pulling me to my feet. “I told War it would all be okay.” He didn’t want Tova going, but he knew how upset she’d be if he didn’t. It’s adorable how she has War Marino wrapped around her tiny pinkie. “And that dress is terrible,” she adds.
“Then why did you make me try it on?”
“It was a group decision,” Cosima tries to say in her defense as her phone starts to go off. My computer dings too. I still have it running and pulling information off Cyberius' computer along with his main server.
It’s an alert, making my stomach drop. I told Ronan I’d keep a tracker on me that only he could access if I could do the same and have a panic button. He said he didn’t need one.
I want to laugh that I’ll get to rub this in his face, but it’s so not the time. He must be in trouble.
“Yeah, we’re in the—” Cosima’s words dying suddenly on her tongue have me glancing up at the same time an arm wraps around me from behind, yanking me into whomever it is. I let out a yelp of surprise.
Damn it. That alert was for me, not Ronan.
“The fuck are you?” Cosima is glaring at the man behind me. My heart sinks when I feel the gun press into my back.
“I’m here to collect,” he tells her. “Came for War’s wife, but I think I’ll take this one too. The way Cyberius spoke about her, we can put her to work in more than a few ways.”
I have no freaking clue who this man is, but when I picked up the extra heat signatures in the building when I first tracked Cyberius down, Ronan told me it was likely protection of some sort.
It made me wonder if he’d brought them with him or if he hired random-ass people when he got to the city. Except I don’t miss the Italian accent. Not after living in Italy for a month.
Offhandedly, Ronan had said it could be possible he recruited people who don’t care for the Marino family now that Cyberius knew where I was staying. That whole enemy of my enemy thing. He was right, but Ronan is always right. It’s annoying and badass at the same time.
“Tova isn’t here,” Cosima growls at him. This must be a Marino family skill set.
The gun leaves my back, and he aims it over my shoulder in front of me at Cosima. Who smirks. I’m not surprised in the least. Who knows what she has up her sleeve? She is full of surprises.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Don’t slip.” Cosima's response catches not only me off guard but I think the man too.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Where is War’s wife?” The man demands an answer. I’m still trying to catch up to what Cosima meant by her comment.
My eyes drop to Cosima’s hand, and I see the silver glint. Oh God, we are not doing this! Cosima and her freaking knives. When we’d get bored in Italy, she’d randomly teach me how to wield a knife.
Cosima is freaky good at it. My father taught me self-defense and how to handle a gun, but knives were something we never did. And I now know what she meant with her comment.
Knives are personal and close, and this man with his arm wrapped around me is as close as you can get.
