Deadly Promises (Tracers #2.5)(12)

“Which statue?” Starface ground out the question, thick with threat.

Sam drew a painful breath. “Girl with a baby. Had a bunch of leaves around the base. Right over—” What the hell? “It’s gone,” he whispered, not believing. A knife poked his ribs. He flinched at the new cut.

“Look, I swear it was here,” Sam babbled. “Dorvan, tell him. You stopped me right after I dropped it. Tell him.”

The thug shined his beam over the area. “You know, I think he’s right. There was a little statue right here.” He shined the light over the ground. Grass was still depressed from the base. “Yeah, there was another one here.”

Starface stepped in front of Sam. “Better not be f*cking with me. You stuck it in a statue that isn’t here?”

“I swear. I wouldn’t bring you out here just to piss you off.” Sweat rolled down Sam’s face and dripped off his chin. A stream pooled along his bound hands. He swallowed, panting.

Starface appraised Sam for a moment, then nodded. “I believe you. Move out.”

Sam’s breath wheezed out in relief. He stumbled behind Starface who walked away from the square and down a side street then turned between two buildings.

“I’ll get it back, make everything right, okay?” Sam offered. “Whatever it takes to make you happy, you got it.”

“Really? Anything?” Starface stopped next to a Dumpster that smelled nasty where bums had pissed beside it. The star-shaped birthmark on his cheek puffed when he smiled.

Sam took that as encouraging. “You got it. Just say the word.” He grinned, seeing a light at the end of the tunnel.

“Dorvan. Make me happy.”

Sam’s mouth opened, but Dorvan’s gloved paw clamped over his lips. A sharp pain seared his chest where Dorvan shoved the blade deep. Double pain when the blade jerked out. Sam crumpled, his head bouncing against the gravel and dirt, throat gurgling. He tried to breathe, scream. Nothing.

Starface snapped his fingers at Dorvan. “Find that statue. Get my memory card. We got forty-eight hours to deliver it.”

Sam stared at the empty alley.

The memory card with damning photos and a video… now someone else’s problem.

Tears ran from his eyes. His heartbeat slowed. Each harsh breath rattled in his chest. Starface watched him, clearly waiting to make sure dead men didn’t talk.

Screw all these bastards. Sam clenched against a racking pain and forced a smile at the * just to worry him.

It worked.

Starface’s confident smile lost shape.

Blood poured from Sam’s mouth. He was drowning and couldn’t say another word if it would save his life. He closed his eyes, prepared to wait for Starface at the gates of hell.

Good f*cking luck to whoever had that memory card now.

JEREMY TAPPED HIS fingers on his chest. Sleeping would be nice, maybe even possible if he could get that kiss with CeCe off his mind.

Was she sleeping? What was she wearing? Anything?

He covered his eyes with his hand, listening to the ceiling fan swoosh around in a steady rhythm. She’d changed her mind the minute her brother showed up. That said a lot, almost as much as the fact she’d been clearly unhappy when he introduced himself to her brother.

Then the excuse for bailing out of dinner.

He’d been brushed off before. It just hadn’t cut quite so deeply the other times.

His cell phone vibrated against the nightstand surface. He stretched across the bed, noted the time on his alarm clock was after midnight, and answered the phone. “Sunn.”

“Jeremy? Did I wake you?”

He knew that sweet voice, but CeCe sounded distressed. “No. What’s up?”

“I heard a noise in the backyard and… I’m afraid.”

“I’ll be right there.” He shoved the phone between his shoulder and ear on the way up and yanked on his jeans lying across the foot of the bed. “Don’t open the door until you know it’s me.” He hung up and zipped his jeans then grabbed his Walther P99 from the nightstand, heading for the sliding door to his backyard.

Cool air trailed behind him when he stepped into the humidity so thick he could almost carry it. He made a quick scan around his backyard that was still as a crypt. He leaped over the fence separating their yards and walked around until he felt certain nothing alive was nearby.

Before reaching her patio door, he shoved his weapon between the waistband of his jeans and his back then tapped.

The curtain inside moved, then the door slid open.

He stepped into the dark kitchen and heard her back up a couple steps. He could just make out her pastel robe–covered shape from a nightlight glowing in the hallway behind where she stood. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

Jeremy moved forward then paused. “No one is out there.”

“I’m still scared,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me alone.”

The sound of her voice was enough to jack up his pulse, but he turned rock hard at the plea to stay with her. Good thing it was dark in here or she’d see how badly he wanted to take her up on that invitation.

He was worse than a dog.

She wanted comfort and he wanted her.

“Jeremy?” Her voice lowered a notch, husky. Just keep destroying his restraint with every word.