He sighs. “Fine. When we’re safely away from here, I’ll get some for you. But we’ll be careful.”
I nod, but it’s a lie. I don’t care about being careful. I care about being useful. And I’ll do anything to make that happen.
FIA
Thirty-two Hours Before
THERE ARE TOO MANY. THIS IS OBVIOUS. TAP TAP TAP tap the broken bottle’s flat side against my leg. My free hand is on Pixie’s arm, holding her close to my body. I edge us out the main doors and onto the sidewalk, but everything here is noisy and fast and I don’t know how to do this.
Hmm. It’s a puzzle.
Something hard jabs into my back. “I’ve got a gun on you. Try anything and I’ll shoot.”
I turn around, face-to-face with a short, stocky man. “I hate it when people threaten to shoot me. Either shoot me or don’t, but stop talking about it. Besides, you aren’t supposed to hurt me.”
I feel the twinge of error a split second before his eyes shift to tiny Pixie next to me. A smile creeps across his blocky features and he moves the gun hidden in his jacket pocket toward her. “I’ll shoot your girlfriend.”
Pixie would be dead, and it wouldn’t be by my hand. Annie’s secret would be safe again.
No. I can’t—won’t—let her die. It would be easier, but it isn’t right. I spin behind him, pulling him against my body and shoving the jagged edge of the glass against his neck. “Get that gun away from her.”
He starts to move, so I push harder. “You’ll bleed to death before you get to the hospital.”
“You should listen to her,” Pixie babbles, whites showing all around her irises, which are fixed on the outline of the gun. “She’s never wrong.”
“If you hurt me, there are more of us, they’ll shoot her. It won’t matter if you kill me.”
“But it matters to you, doesn’t it?” I rest my chin on the back of his neck. He smells like floral shampoo and terror. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to let Pixie hail a cab and get in. As soon as she is safely in the car and gone, I’ll come with you, no problem.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
I dig the glass in, because he’s annoying me and I’m jittery and anxious to see Pixie safely off. They can’t hurt her. I won’t let them. I need Pixie secure even though she holds my most precious secret in her head, and that makes her far more dangerous than I ever thought she’d be.
“What about you?” she says, looking at me now.
I smile. “I’m always fine. Hail your cab.”
The main raises his hand. “Hold on, she can’t—”
I kick his Achilles tendon. “Here’s how you know I’m telling the truth: I love this shirt and if I have to kill you, I’ll get blood all over it. Do you know how hard blood is to wash off? I do. You can never get it off. Not ever.” Never, never, never, never. Tap tap tap tap. “So you let her leave and I let you keep your blood on the inside where it belongs and we go talk to your friend who is so desperate to see me.”
Pixie looks scared. “Fia, don’t—”
“Get a cab. Now.” I glare at her
and she turns, walking stiffly to the edge of the sidewalk. Two men move to follow her.
“Tell them,” I whisper in the ear of my man.
“Let her leave,” he says, his voice tight.
Pixie looks back at me as a cab stops and she climbs in. I give her a thumbs-up with the hand I have wrapped around the front of my man. Then she is gone and that means she is safe, so I don’t really care what happens now. I’ll be fine.
I let go of the man and he jumps away, rubbing at his neck and calling me nasty names under his breath. I toss the bottle to the side with a tinkle of glass and smile cheerfully. “See? Easy! Who wants to take me to my earnest suitor?”
I follow a tall, broad-shouldered man with a gun’s bulk pushing out the edge of his sports jacket. We walk around the corner to where a car idles in an alley. “Disappointing,” I mutter. “I was hoping for a party bus.”
He opens the back door to the car and gestures for me to go in. As I slip past him my hand darts to his belt and I snatch the gun, then yank the door shut and hit the lock.