A shrill noise interrupted the moment and Jaxson pulled away with a scowl, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the burner. “What?” he barked into the receiver. The sound of the phone going off must have woken our captive, because a low moan came from the bed right before he started talking again.
“Hello?” he called out tentatively. “Are you there? I c-can hear you. Are you going to hurt me? I-I know my parents have money.” The kid paused and then sniffled. “P-please don’t kill me.”
I closed my eyes briefly, squeezing them until it hurt, before opening them as Jaxson stepped away from me. “You’re going to be fine,” I answered the kid. “Just don’t talk anymore. We’re not going to hurt you.”
Jaxson’s eyes heated with anger and I knew without a doubt that I’d get it for that later. His top rule for this job had been not to talk to the kid, but I couldn’t help it. He was scared. A teenager barely on the cusp of starting his life—it wasn’t his fucking fault that his parents were wealthy, well connected targets of people like Jaxson and me. Whatever Jaxon was about to say, however, was interrupted by the person on the other line. A smug smile of victory came across his face and that could only mean one thing.Payday.
“That’s it?” he asked, turning away. “They paid it? What’s the number—no not the phone number, you fucking idiot. The account number.”
As Jaxson headed back toward the table, snatching up a pen and paper, I moved toward the bed where the kid lay and leaned closer—as if I could offer him comfort from where I was. “It’s okay,” I told him quietly. “I promise. Just stay calm. Don’t try to fight back and you’ll be home with your family soon.”
“I-I’m scared,” the kid said. “Please. I-I don’t—”
I hushed him gently. “I know, sweetie.” In the background, I dimly heard Jaxson hang up and pick something up from the table. “It’ll be over soon.”
Thank God the kid’s parents had paid the ransom,I thought as I stood back up and turned toward Jaxson. I was only half turned when the sound of a quiet pop hit my ears and something wet slapped my arm. My body jerked to a halt, my lips parting in shock as I glanced down.
Red … all over my arm. All over the bed. The black bag that had been over the kid’s head had a neat hole in it and blood pooled beneath him. The shock hit me first. Then … sickness. I turned to the side and stumbled over my own two feet as I tried to reach for the little trashcan beneath the shitty box television set. My knees hit the floor two point five seconds before I vomited what little I had in my stomach into the plastic container.
“Jaxson…” I gasped for breath. “What the f-fuck…”
A hard hand landed on the back of my head, fingers gripping the strands of my hair as he jerked me up to my feet. “I told you not to talk to the kid, Scarlett.” He waved his gun—with his silencer on it—in front of my face. He released my hair and scowled at my messy face. I didn’t realize I was crying until the tears hit my collarbone.
I’d seen death before but … fuck … he’d just been a kid. A scared kid who’d been born into the wrong family. He was innocent. He had been until he wasn’t anything anymore. Whether it was subconscious or deliberate, my gaze avoided the bed. I could still feel the kid’s blood on my arm and it made me feel tainted. Dirty.
Jaxson sighed. “We’ve got the money,” he said. “It’s time to pack it up.”
“You didn’t have to-to kill him!” I burst out, screaming at him. “Why would you—”
My back hit the moldy wallpaper before I realized what was going on. “Shut your fucking mouth, Scarlett,” Jaxson snarled. “The silencer did its job, but if you start screaming—even in this roach motel—people might come asking questions. You spoke to him. I warned you not to. He could have identified you by your voice.”
He’d been talking to—sure it hadn’t been to the kid, but his voice would’ve been distinguishable too. Why did he have to blame it on me? Why did he have to kill? Jaxson’s hand closed around my throat, capturing my attention once more.
“Get cleaned up,” he said, frowning down at the blood on my arm. “Stop crying, and then call the cleaner. We’ll be out of here within the hour. The money’s ours; we didn’t need the kid anymore.”
He released me—as if those words were all I needed to get my ass into gear. “I’m going to take the bags back out to the car,” he said, turning away.
I waited until he slung the two duffle bags we’d brought with us—emergency supplies, money, burners, and all of the other shit we always carried if we could—and headed out of the room before I moved. As soon as the door clanged shut behind him, my unsteady legs carried me back to the bed. Still, I couldn’t look at it. My lips twisted. My fingers shook and after another moment, I lifted my gaze and nearly gagged at the puddle of red beneath the black bag.
Too far, I thought. Jaxson had gone too far this time and whether he realized his wrongdoings or not, he was right about one thing. This was my fault too. I touched the end of the bag and held back a sob. Lifting it, I just wanted to see the kid’s face once. Someone needed to see. And I doubted that his family ever would—not after the cleaner came through here.
My fingers pulled and tugged until the bag was drawn up to the forehead and I nearly sobbed aloud. I wasn’t much older than this kid—half a decade older than his eighteen years. Yet, as I stared down at his open eyes, he looked far younger than I’d ever felt in my life. Far too young to die like this in a place like this.
My knees hit the floor again and this time, I let myself sob. “I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I’m so … sorry.” I’d promised he’d be okay not seconds before the bullet had entered his skull. Jaxson had made me a liar.But not again—never again.