Page 5 of Wicked Me
A flash of steel. Something clicked. A gun. Attached to Hill himself, who now sat behind me.
I froze, one hand on the ignition, the other on the steering wheel, so he could see I was unarmed. Except for the crowbar in the backseat next to him, which wouldn’t do me any good now. Whatever happened, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t end well.
“You don’t seem the scholarly type, Sam. So imagine my surprise when I followed you here.” His voice was soft and low and never failed to wig me out. It somehow reminded me of slimy worms wriggling up his throat.
“You were following me?”
“To see how serious you are about paying off your debt.”
I ground my teeth together. “It’s not my debt I’m paying off.”
“It is now.” He sat back, the leather seats creaking slightly under his weight.
The guy was a skeleton. Life had withered him away to wrinkled skin and bone. The white gloves he always wore with his suit jacket had never seen so much as a stain. He looked ready for a fancy dinner, but even in the ninety-plus degree heat inside the car, he hadn’t broken a sweat.
I was sweating enough for the both of us.
“I was on my way to the warehouse. Got caught in traffic,” I said and dropped my hands into my lap. “Shit happens. I tried to be there.”
“Yes, you did try. Just not very hard.”
“I’m sorry.” I hoped it sounded like I meant it.
When Hill didn’t say anything, I glanced in the rearview mirror at him with a hard swallow. But my throat clamped shut at what else appeared there. Paige, her luggage in tow, five yards away on a direct path toward my car.
Oh, shit no. Even if she didn’t know who I was, she couldn’t see what was happening here, whateverwashappening here. Was Hill going to take me out in the parking lot of the public library?
“Sam?” Hill asked.
“What?” I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Paige, drawing closer, still set on this exact direction. Fifteen feet.
Turn, baby, turn.
“Surely this isn’t the shovel I asked you to bring,” Hill said, his voice soft, menacing.
Before I realized what he was talking about, he mashed one end of the crowbar into my hand wrapped around the steering wheel.
Pain shot through me. I threw back my head to howl, but I couldn’t. Iwouldn’tdo it. Because around the agonizing red flashes that blasted behind my closed eyes at every dig, there was the unmistakable roll of luggage. Paige’s luggage. Coming louder. Ten feet away.
“Do you know how much pressure it takes to break our fragile bones? Only twenty-five pounds. That’s not much at all, is it?”
“I’ll do better next time. Promise.” I forced open my eyes to stare straight ahead as Paige and her luggage drew nearer. Six feet.
Don’t look inside the car. Just walk on.
I crushed my teeth together to keep the pain from showing up all over my face.
“Where’s the package, Sam?” Hill hissed.
Movement to the left. A blur of white shorts and honey skin I’d had the pleasure of sightseeing just minutes ago. She didn’t slow, marched right past with her head held high.
I swallowed back my relief. It was short-lived anyway with Hill’s next growl.
“The money, Sam!”
“Glove compartment. It’s in the glove compartment.”
In front of the car, Paige turned her head in our direction and squinted into the setting sun. She might’ve heard us, but hopefully the glare would prevent her from seeing anything.
