Page 44 of Bound to a Killer
He nudges his chin toward Tanner, fueling my growing unease. “So why’d you say she was buried?”
“I—” He turns to me with a conflicted flick of his eyebrows, waiting for me to help him out. “Right, well, it was a misunderstanding.”
Fuck, he’s sweating. Strands of short blond hair stick to his forehead, the rest whipping around in the breeze. He looks at Antonio, mouth opening, but no words come out.
Yeah, we’re fucked.
He’s completely cracking down in front of him, and there’s no fixing it.
We need to get the hell out. Now.
“Why are you looking over at Wilson?” Antonio asks carefully. “Weren’t you with him?”
“No. I mean, yes—” he stumbles, making me cringe. “I mean… no. I wasn’t there personally.”
Antonio turns over to Hulk, exchanging a silent look. “Remember when I mentioned a security risk?”
I stay silent, and for once, so does Tanner.
“Well, one of my undercover men has gone missing. Interestingly enough, he was tasked with following you, Scott. Does the name Max ring any bells?”
Tanner shakes his head, his clammy palms rubbing the side of his cargo pants.
“No?” Antonio taunts.
Why does that name sound familiar? I think back to the license from the red Cadillac’s driver. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Max? As in Maxwell fucking Macomb, Max?
My stomach clenches tight as the name simmers in my head.
Antonio’s smile stretches, sending chills down my back. He knows I know.
“Well then?” Antonio presses, still waiting while Tanner sweats buckets in the freezing cold.
“I-I don’t know, I swear.” Tanner’s voice cracks. He shoots me a look for guidance.
“Don’t look at Wilson,” he snaps, voice dropping. “Look at me.”
Antonio narrows his eyes and steps closer. “Mistakes happen, Tanner,” he says. “But without transparency? Honesty? There’s nothing. You understand me?”
Tanner’s slow to respond, his head nodding to show he’s listening. I need to get us out. I promised him things would befine, and I plan to keep that promise. We’re closer to my BMW than they are to their Range Rover. We can make a run for it.
Hulk raises an arm, signaling to whoever is still in the car. A door creaks open, and another Hulk replica emerges from the backseat in a quilted jacket.
Sweat beads on Tanner’s forehead, trailing down the side of his face and the bridge of his nose. My fingers go numb from how tightly I’m gripping the knife in my pocket.
We’re outnumbered.
But we’re still closer to my vehicle than they are to theirs. The guy in the army green jacket strides toward us, then picks up pace on Antonio’s command.
“Get them!”
Before he finishes barking the order, I’m already turning, ready to bolt.
“Tanner, run!” I shout, flicking a look over my shoulder. He’s not far behind, but Hulk number one is close on his heels.
“Don’t let ‘em get away!” Antonio bellows from a distance.
We’re seconds from the car, almost there, before a strangled yelp cuts through behind me. I glance back. Tanner’s sprawled on the ground, the first henchman already on top of him.
