Page 63 of Bound to a Killer
Aria gnaws her lip, eyes wide and red-rimmed, while Frankie’s lips are drawn tight as tears streak her lashes. On her temple rests a metal barrel.
She whimpers. Her eyes squeeze tighter as more tears spill.
Shit. He has a gun.
My chest buckles.
“Get the fuck away from them,” I growl, shifting forward an inch, only to stop cold as he cocks the weapon against Frankie’s head. She lets out a sob that guts me, but before I can react, everything shifts.
In a blur, Aria slips free of his grip and stumbles away.
“Goddamnit!” Antonio shouts.
I reach out to her and she crashes into my chest, arms locking around me, trembling and whimpering. “Hey,” I say, swallowing past the knot in my throat. “I’ve got you.” Her tears soak through my shirt as she nods, clinging to the back of my leather jacket. I steer her behind me but keep a firm grip on her so we stay tethered together. She’s fine. We’ll all be fine.
My eyes lock on the handgun. Nausea churns in my gut as he shifts the barrel in our direction, his arm tightening around my sister’s neck. I expect him to shoot, but he doesn’t.
Her lips part in a fearful sob, fingers twitching where they dig against him.
“Hands up where I can see ‘em, pal,” he grits out, brandishing the pistol in the air so I’ll comply.
My fingers curl around the slick handle of Jagger’s utility knife, tension infiltrating my muscles and joints. But my hold loosens when I hear another voice.
His voice.
My heartbeat spikes. I almost lose my grip on Aria as I freeze. For a second, I nearly let go.
“Tanner?” His name slips out in a barely there whisper.
“We come in peace,” he says, his voice booming from the open doorway of the building’s back entrance. The sound sends a cold streak of panic straight down my spine.
I whip my head in his direction, disbelief rattling through my bones. I can’t believe I heard that right. It can’t be him.
But there he is, standing in full sun, the outdoor light shining through his pale locks, every strand smoothly in place. No restraints. Not a trace of blood or a bruise along his chiseled face. Nothing.
He pivots around until he reaches our vicinity, his eyes laser-focused on me.
I don’t move. My brows pull tight as my heart continues tothud louder than anything else in my ears. Everything feels off. Hazy. Like I’ve stepped into an alternate reality.
Frankie’s voice breaks the ominous silence, trembling as she calls out to him for help, “T-Tanner…”
“Don’t worry,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. “Everything’s fine. Antonio doesn’t want to hurt you.”
Antonio lowers the gun so it rests on her shoulder, but its presence is enough to keep her immobile, her complexion damp and pale.
“That’s right,” Antonio echoes. “She’s not hurt, see? Shaken up, but not hurt.” Pleats are etched deep into his weathered skin as he smiles wide, his dark eyes glinting like tiny rosary beads. They flick over to Tanner. “Did you find the other guy?”
Tanner gives a terse nod, then raises his gun and fires it toward a cluster of crates in the back.
Aria jolts behind me, her small fist balling deeper into the hem of my jacket as I tighten my grip on the crimson-coated blade. I swing it forward, readying myself for anything that comes next.
A piercing scream jabs at my eardrums. My heart rate is on a sharp incline as I scan for backup, but only Dee’s hunched body stumbles into view from behind the boxes.
His hands shake as he tries to lift up the gun at his side, but Tanner’s faster. He shoots a clean bullet right between his panicked eyes.
Dee drops instantly, a garbled scream fizzling out as his body hits the floor. His gun skids along the concrete, landing just an arm’s length from my side.
The bang dulls my hearing for a long moment, but I can see Frankie’s face scrunch up as she cries harder, the barrel of Antonio’s gun tapping her head, slow and antagonizing, as he attempts to shut her up.
