“Why?” I ask, only because I can’t help myself.
She raises an eyebrow at me. “Think of how you feel about Drex. That’s how I feel about Jude.”
“Jude?” I ask, confused.
“That’s Snake’s real name,” she says with a sad smile. “I only call him that when the guys aren’t around.” She blows out a breath, and that chipper look fades ever so slightly. “I fucked up, and I regret not trusting him with my secrets, but… Anyway. Doesn’t matter now. I’ve heard how he feels about this entire situation, and it’s fine. I get it. Doesn’t mean I’m willing to just walk away until I know he’s safe. Stay put. Shoot anything that walks through this door without knocking three times. No more. No less. Understand?”
I nod, even though I really hope no one walks through that door.
“I’ll only be gone for a minute.”
She disappears out the door, and I listen to it click shut. It’s an automatic locking door, so I stare at the handle for no real reason. It’s not like someone can just walk in.
Why did Colleen call Sarah instead of one of the guys? One of the guys could have saved her sooner. Sarah could only listen, since Colleen couldn’t talk. Would the guys have even figured out where Colleen was? Would they have hung up if they answered and just met silence?
Then again, they might have shot both of us with their cowboy antics. Sarah is like a snake that coils and waits to strike.
Getting up, I peek out the window as Sarah’s car pulls away, and I move back to the bed, sighing as I try to wrap my head around everything.
My uncle. At the center of everything is the man my father saved over and over. Dad wasn’t kidding when he said Uncle Marshall was a sociopath.
After twenty minutes, I start to get worried. But then the knob of the door jiggles, and my stomach muscles tighten. If that was Sarah, she’d be knocking, right?
I slowly lift the gun, feeling my entire body start to shake as adrenaline and fear collide. The handle jiggles harder and something snaps on the other side as a man’s voice mutters a curse.
“AJ?! You fucking in there?” he growls, causing me to tense so painfully that I can barely even feel anything but knots upon knots.
As the door swings open, I don’t hesitate. One. Two. Three. Three shots fired, and all three shots slam into the walls nowhere near the man who just stumbled inside with dark shades and long dark hair.
“The fuck?!” he roars, ducking like he heard those silent shots, even though he doesn’t look my way.
I start to fire again, when I hear the distinct sound of Sarah’s voice.
“Bentley? What the hell are you doing here?”
The guy cocks his head as though he’s confused, but he still doesn’t look my way.
“Who the hell is shooting at me if you’re out here?”
“Who is—Oh shit. Don’t shoot!” Sarah gasps, leaping past him with apologetic, fearful eyes landing on me immediately. My hands are shaking violently now, and the gun is still clutched in front of me. Sarah looks at the three bullet holes I’ve made by glancing behind her. Then she looks back at me.
“You’re a terrible shot,” she says, amused.
“Thank fuck for that,” Bentley—I think she said his name was Bentley—snarls.
“How could you think that was me shooting?” Sarah asks while whirling around to face him like she’s insulted.
“Why is there someone shooting at me at all, damn it?” he gripes.
It’s like a morbid sitcom is playing out in front of me, and I can’t let go of the gun in my hands. It’s frozen in place, just like me. I’m legitimately locked in place like fear’s bitch and adrenaline’s toy.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she tells him. “I told you not to come.”
“No, you left a message saying to come by and bring you that file in person if you didn’t answer your phone. You said you might be getting tracked.”
“That was four days ago. I left another message with my new burner number and email address.”
“No you didn’t,” he growls.
Why is he still wearing his sunglasses? Why do I even care?
“Oh,” Sarah says while frowning. “Oops. Well, I meant to call.”
“Un-fucking-believable,” he grumbles.
“I lost my tail, tossed all my phones, and got some new burners. I meant to give you the number.”
“That makes it okay that the girl shot at me. Get the damn gun out of her hands.”
“How do you know it’s a girl and that she’s still holding a gun?” she asks him as she walks over and pries the gun out of my shaky hands before patting me on the head very patronizingly.
“Her hands were shaking so bad I could hear the metal clanking, and I can smell the cherry from here. Don’t know too many guys who wear cherry-scented shit. Here. I brought the file. I need to get back to my driver and away from this shit. I’m mostly legit nowadays, remember?”