Page 53 of His Puppet

“And who are you? Who are you running from?”

She takes another shaky breath, and I glance at her fingers wrapped around the seam of her shorts in a fist.

“Emily, who—”

“My uncle.” She blurts it out like it’s been trapped inside her. “He—he’s kind of a father figure, I guess. My parents died in a car accident when I was young, and my aunt and uncle raised me. I ran away from home when I was fourteen, so technically, I’m a missing person.”

“Okay,” I say, my brows pinched. “Are you sure they didn’t classify you as a runaway? Considering youdidrun away.”

She shakes her head. “I saw myself on the news. They claimed I was abducted.”

The ball in my gut grows. Now I can definitely see why she’s scared. I just told her I’m under constant surveillance, and she’s a missing person from an abduction case.Fuck me.

I run my hands over my face while leaning back, trying to think through this one. She said her hair is dyed, and she’s years older than when she ran away. She’s taken great measures to make herself invisible. It’s not exactly ideal that I may have just put a spotlight on her from driving her off the farm, having herherewith meright now,but what are the odds of the police identifying her? If anything, they’ll think she’s the same petty thief I thought she—

“There’s something else.”

I blink and focus on Emily again.

She bites her lip and breathes in through her nose.

“What is it?” I ask, a little harsher than I mean to.

“I need to tell you who my uncle is.”

I blink again and wait while Emily takes an irritating amount of time to answer.

I lift my hand in a ‘hurry the fuck up’ gesture. “Rip the fucking Band-Aid off, Emily. Who the hell is he?”

“Promise me again you won’t hurt me.”

I close my eyes and take a steadying breath. It calms me none. “I swear to God, if you don’t—”

“I’ll tell you. Just promise me first.”

I open my eyes and scoot my chair toward her. I pry her hands from her shorts to hold them carefully. “I promise,” I reassure her, managing to mask about half of my impatience.

I look her straight in the eyes, and while I stare into them, I make up my mind. I actually do mean it. I mean it as much as Saul Gruco did while I pleaded with him, despite knowing the risk I was to the Grucos. The obvious thing to do would’ve involved handing me over to the police. My father was an associate for the mafia, not even a made man. He wasn’t even off limits when the four officers gunned him down, and if it wasn’t for me, they would’ve gotten away with it. He saw something in me. He saw a skillset, a devotion, a worth greater than my death. He gave me a chance.

She’s already earned hers.

Emily squeezes my hand. “My uncle is Judge Gordon Wilson. He’s a ten-year judge on Nevada’s supreme court.”

She takes another deep breath while my stomach bottoms out.

“And hereallywants me back.”

17

Emily

It’s been an hour since we’ve spoken a word to each other.

Almost immediately upon learning who my uncle was, Blade excused himself and left me alone in his father’s dingy apartment. I half-expected him to show back up with bodyguards, a gun and a shovel, and I spent the whole time pacing the house. I scanned every room, telling myself I wasn’t looking for a weapon, that I was just securing a backup plan, but it’s hard to lie to yourself when you’ve lived in your mind this long.

Blade didn’t show back up with men to haul me off. When he returned, I watched him through the window, leaned against the railing smoking a cigarette. I could see his back muscles wound tight through his white button-down, the sleeves rolled up his forearms.

Eventually, he came back into the apartment, held up his hand when I began to speak, and he’s been texting on his phone ever since. He stands, he runs his hands through his hair, and he paces in between responses. All the while, I sit on the couch and watch him, half my focus on his reactions to the texts, and half on trying not to puke.

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