Page 111 of Forging Caine

No response.

Had they already come back for him? Were we too late?

Jason knocked louder and Samantha’s head swung about, looking for other people.

A quiet voice came from behind the door. “Who is it?”

Samantha wedged herself between Jason and the door. “It’s Sam. Are you alright?”

Cam-ron cracked the door open, but his eyes flew up to see Jason and he backed away, attempting to slam it shut.

Jason intervened, pushing effortlessly above Samantha’s head, gaining us entry.

Cam-ron stumbled back, hands in front of his face, to fend off an impending attack. “Please, no! I didn’t—I mean I won’t—”

“We’re here to get you out,” hissed Samantha. “Calm down.”

“No, no, no!” He rocked his head violently. Tears streaked his face. His shoulders rolled in and he blinked repeatedly, unable or unwilling to rip his eyes off of Jason. “They’ll kill me if I leave.”

Jason stood guard by the door, with an ear pressed against it. “We don’t have time for this.”

Samantha widened her eyes at me, inclining her head and hands toward Cam-ron. What did she want me to do? Pick him up? Force him?

No. My job was to talk. Convince him. “I know you’re scared, Cam-ron. We all are. But we need to go. Fiori’s not getting what he wants out of our arrangements. The forgeries weren’t good enough. The paintings he thinks are authentic likely aren’t. And with the Zane dead—”

Cam-ron let out a sob and sagged to his knees. “He just shot him. Right there, in front of all of us. It’s all I can see. The blood.”

Samantha, in an uncharacteristically soft voice—when dealing with anyone other than me—whispered, “I know what you’re going through. The same thing happened to me on New Year’s.”

“The people my dad worked with?”

“Yeah. But Jason’s going to help us escape. If you stay here, you’ll wind up dead, too.” So much for the softness.

I grabbed Cam-ron under his arms and pulled him up. “Time’s running out.”

“But what about my dad? If I leave, Fiori’s going to have him killed. I can’t…”

There was nothing we could do for Parker. And the only part of me that cared was the part that was trying to convince Cam-ron to come with us. “If he kills you, like he killed the other two conservators, why would he keep your father alive?”

His knees went weak and he nearly crumpled again.

Marone, boy. “If you stay, maybe you and your father live until Fiori is taken down.”

“Please tell me someone’s going to do that?”

“That’s what we’re trying to do.” Samantha’s razor-thin patience had already run out. “But we can’t do it from in here. You and your mother did the right thing last summer when you told me about Olivia Scott and her fake Chagall. If we can get you out and into the FBI’s hands, based on the work you’ve done here, they’ll make you a star witness. They’ll be able to protect you and your mother and probably your father.”

Cam-ron nodded. “I can do that. I’m sure I can do that. Maybe. Just let me pack my things.”

Jason checked his watch. “We’re out of time.”

“Leave your things.” I yanked him toward the door.

He resisted, squirming out of my grip. “My lucky paintbrush is in the studio. That’s all I need.”

I worked hard to look less stunned than I was. “It’s not very lucky if you wound up here with it.”

Samantha touched my arm. “We have to go.”

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