Page 94 of Shockproof

And petty.

We’re talking about hiring a lookalike to star in your music video about your famous ex so that the whole world knowsexactlywho you’re talking about level of petty.

Nothing good ever comes from shit like this.

He’s about to learn that the hard way.

I stomp on the very edge of his dark boat shoes, crunching his toe with all the force possible, causing him to bark in pain and jerk further forward. After sucking in a small bit of air to brace myself for the pending sting, I once more, use all the strength I can muster up to slam my head into his. This time Ivan flails backwards and over the table allowing me an open opportunity to take off running. While I have no idea where to go or where to hide or how the hell to get help, I know I have a better chance to figure all that shit out away from theJason Bournevillain I royally pissed off months ago.

Sprinting along one side of the ship is carelessly done. Between the choppy waters rocking us and the same water creating a slippery terrain, I slide into the wall. The metal railing. The wall again. Regardless of how much wind gets knocked out of me, I scurry towards the end, anxious to round the corner into unseen territory.

Just as I prepare to swing around the edge of the deck, the brown skinned armed guard who dragged me out of the vehicle earlier appears. Confusion barely registers before he’s retrieving a weapon to point in my face, yet rather than risk wrestling over it – not the most probable choice given his size and my stature – I spin on my heels to dart the direction I left, begging my Gym Class guardians that I am not the star that’s about to get shot down.

Two wobbly strides are all that get completed due to Ivan stepping back into my pathway.

Torn in two over both dead ends leads to me glancing at the railing to the ship.

Going over isn’t a great option.

And drowning is an even less viable one.

Unsure of where to go or how to react leaves me paralyzed in place long enough for Ivan to clip me in the bicep, bullet grazing my skin just enough to further incapacitate me on a body shaking scream.

Crumpling against the very railing I probably shouldn’t have entertained climbing over occurs during my captor’s announcement, “Next one will be a kill shot, Carmicheal.” He aims the gun higher to reiterate his seriousness. “I told my investors – who had become shaken with your tactics at finding me – that I would show them our problems were solved firsthand – hence capturing you and summoning Wahl here; however, I’m fairly positive I can show them your corpse and give them the same reassuring speech to illustrate my point.”

New ropes of panic wind themselves firmly around my throat cutting of my ability to speak.

“Farr,” Ivan calls to the bulky male gradually approaching, “tie her up again. And this time?” His frigid gray lettering scrapes my cheek on its way by. “Do it like you fucking mean it.”

Chapter 16

Slater

“Yeah, I remember, Rosenkrantz,” Seventeen loudly announces over the fueling of the nearby helicopter. “Great operative.” He swipes the screen of his tablet, flashes us his photo, and skims the info further. “According to his files, he’s a retired Marine. Has some of the highest kill rates in the company.” Another scroll is followed by a displeased hum. “And some of the highest casualties as well.”

“That’s not good,” Blu mutters under his breath.

I briefly cut my stare away from the vehicle being prepared for us. “What else?”

“Arley’s notes – that she has shared – have him marked as a possible suspect noting the narcissistic red flags in several of his psych evals, his handwriting analysis that shifts from large in size – textbook attention seeker – to tiny scribbles – retreating from social structures as a whole – a combination she mentions can result in an unstable mindset – and a pattern of requests for a pay increase despite an unimproved performance.”

“Africanized honeybee much,” my second sarcastically sighs.

“His motives are unclear to me.” Our eyes finally lock. “However, if you’d like me to venture an educated guess? Some sort…unresolved revenge or vendetta for not being heard when he was here.”

“Was he fired?” Blu rightfully investigates.

“Resigned.” Seventeen lowers the device he’s been death gripping since we’ve been on the pad. “Shortly after I took office.”

My head slightly angles itself to the side. “I get the feelin’ that’s not a coincidence, Seventeen.”

“I didn’t have anything against him.”

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t have anything againstyou.”

“Killing and kidnapping seem a bit extreme for someone I can hardly recall having interactions with, Wahl.”

“People have gone to harsher lengths for less,” I coldly remind him. “People are often fueled by hate or the need for revenge the same way they’re fueled by hope.” Crossing my arms is wedged between statements. “It’s that old sayin’ about cuttin’ off the nose to spite your face.”

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