Page 104 of Twisted Trust
Naz nods and clasps my elbow. “We won’t let that happen.”
“I’m sorry,” Chip says earnestly. “I ran as fast as I could, but they already had her in the car. No license plates.”
I want to tell him it’s not his fault, that it’s likely mine for putting so much responsibility on him concerning Maeve, Scott, and my mother, but the words don’t come. Instead, one name slips from my lips like a curse.
“Donald.”
“Who is he?” Naz asks. “I never noticed him before.”
“Just a driver,” Chip explains. “He drives for everyone. Sometimes Levi, a lot for Elio. He was at the airport explosion but got knocked out. He was always kind, always quiet. I never…” Chip shakes his head. “He was never on my radar.”
“I’m going to kill him too,” I say tightly. “I’m going to kill them all.”
The wait is agonizing. Calling in teams to clean up the mess, calming my mother and Scott, and repeatedly asking Naz for updates makes time drag on and on until finally, the call comes through. His men track Antony to a closed-down motel on the outskirts of the desert, and they visually confirm he has Maeve.
I’m out the door before Naz even finishes his conversation.
The drive there takes far too long. I can’t sit still and check my gun over multiple times until I’m intimately familiar with the chip near the hammer. Chip tries to make small talk but every alarm in my mind is locked on Maeve and what Antony could be doing to her. Every second away from her is a second that could be her last.
If he hurts her, I’ll never forgive myself.
Tires squeal and brakes complain as we screech into the parking lot and pour from the cars like flowing rocks.
“Number nine!” Naz yells at me as I sprint toward the row of buildings. My eyes lock onto the door of number nine and as soon as I’m close to it, I leap up and slam my foot into the door near the lock. Wood splinters as the door crashes open, revealing a gutted out motel room that’s little more than a shell with Maeve in her blood-stained, torn dress near one corner with Donald next to her and Antony a few feet away.
“Levi!”
Hearing her voice fills me with hope, but just as I raise my gun, Antony is a split second faster. His arm snaps up, he takes aim at Maeve, and a single gunshot rings out in the room. Donald flinches as Maeve jolts backward and crumples to the ground without a sound.
My heart stops dead in my chest.
Pain spreads through my body like a flash of lightning and a loud rushing sound fills my ears, like I can hear my blood racing through my body. Distant footsteps rush behind me in slow motion and Antony, grinning, turns his gun toward me.
I snap into action like the crack of a belt and tackle Antony so hard into the wall that the plaster dents and crumbles around his shoulders. I punch him hard with a roar, then again and again. I keep going, throwing all my strength and anger into each punch. He tries to fight back but other than a weak blow to my ribs, I barely feel anything else.
I punch him until my shoulders ache, then my hands wrap around his scrawny neck and I squeeze hard until something cracks and shifts under my palms. His grip on my arm falters and then his hand flops to the side as his eyes roll back in his head and he takes his final breath.
Barely sparing him another glance, I scramble to my feet and trip over myself to get to Maeve. She’s lying on the floor, gasping, with one hand over her abdomen. Donald lies dead at Naz’s feet. I didn’t even hear them fighting.
“Maeve?”
“L–Levi!”
“Maeve! You’re okay, you’re okay, baby!”
I take her hand and slide my arm under her shoulders to prop her up while running my eyes over her. There’s a dark bruise under one eye and dried blood on her lip. Her dress is splattered with blood and dirt and the hollow of her neck deepens with each gasping breath.
“Y–You came!”
“Of course I came! You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.”
“He shot me!” She gasps again.
“I know, I know. Let me see. Let me…” Gently moving her hand away, relief floods through me as instead of the blood I fear to see, there’s nothing but split fabric and the black Kevlar underneath. “Oh, thank God.”
“I’m okay?” she gasps, still struggling to catch her breath.
“Yes,” I say, hastily cupping her cheek. “You’re okay. You’re so okay.”
