Personal Demon (Otherworld 8)

"Not now. Please. I have--" My throat seized up and I had to force the words out. "I have to go."

HOPE

BIOLOGY IS DESTINY

Had I ever envisioned myself in this situation--taken hostage and being led to a car--I'd have foreseen my mind flying ahead at warp speed, eyes darting around, trying to find an opportunity to escape or at least to call public attention to myself.

But I just walked. Focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Jaz strolled beside me, his arm in mine, chattering away. The gun was in his pocket. It didn't matter. The other gun--the one Sonny had for Karl--was more important. There are risks you'll take for yourself because you know that if your plan goes wrong, it'll be too late for regrets. But if you risk the lives of others and fail, you'll have a lifetime to regret it.

Jaz's plan rested on the presumption that Karl would have circled back for me rather than follow Sonny. I wasn't so sure. He could be tracking Sonny right now to our rendezvous point where he'd have a chance to--

"Here we are."

I teetered on the curb, and his hand yanked me back, jerking me from my thoughts. We were standing on a busy corner with no parking along either street.

"Where's the car?"

"There's one." He pointed at a truck zooming past. "And there's another, and another." He slanted a sidelong glance my way, as if honestly expecting me to appreciate the joke. "Oh, you mean our car. Let's see..."

He looked around, then leaned out and snapped his fingers. "Taxi."

A blue compact steered out of the line of traffic and pulled to the curb. Sonny sat in the driver's seat.

Jaz pulled open the back door. When I balked, he prodded me.

"Come on, Hope. It's a no-stopping zone."

I locked my knees and scanned the sidewalk, hoping...

"Jaz." Sonny's voice. Sharp.

"No problem, bro. Now, Hope, don't--"

He grabbed me around the waist, catching me off guard. I twisted, but he was already folding me inside. The back of my head smacked into the roof and I let out a yelp, louder than the tap warranted. No one around us even paused. A drama queen, making a big deal out of a knock on the head. And if my boyfriend seemed a bit rough? Not their business.

As I hit the seat, I scrambled around, hands balling into fists, Jaz's gun pointed at me.

"Hope. Please."

I considered my options and saw none I liked.

In the front seat, Sonny grabbed his hair and pulled it off. A wig. He tossed it onto the seat and ran his hands through his hair--dark and wavy.

The light ahead turned yellow. Sonny slowed, earning a honk from the driver behind. As we waited, he rubbed his hands over his face, brisk and hard, as if he had indeed been sleeping. I glanced at Jaz, but he was looking out the side window.

The car started forward again. Gripping the wheel were hands as dark as Jaz's. I blinked and looked out the window, expected to see the sun gone again, but it still blazed brightly.

I strained to get a look at Sonny in the mirror. For a moment, I saw nothing. Then he moved and I bit back a gasp. It looked like Jaz's face in the mirror. At the next light, he turned, and I saw that the dark eyes weren't as deep-set as Jaz's, the lips fuller, mouth not as wide, the face thinner, and somber in a way that was as "Sonny" as Jaz's infectious grin was him.

"Hope, meet Jason," Jaz said, startling me. "My little brother. He prefers Sonny, though, so you can stick with that."

Sonny raked his fingers through his hair again. "I hate it when it's this short. And I swear it feels like straw. Dye it blond. Dye it back. Can't be good."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch. It's going to be a lot shorter soon."

"Don't remind me."