Retribution (Secrets & Lies #3)(39)

“Fuck you,” I hiss, grabbing her hand and twisting. She rolls with it, off of me but catching me in the thigh with her elbow as she rolls behind the bed. I know what she's doing and run for the window, diving through and hoping my forearms and the curtain are enough to protect me from the worst of the glass as I crash through just as she comes up, a Walther PPK in her hand. She fires once, the round whizzing just past my ear as I scramble up and to my right. I see we're on the second floor now but I can see the truck, and I'm glad I left the keys inside.

As I run down the stairs I can't focus as Isis comes out of the room and I dive down the last five stairs, my body aching as my hip bangs into the concrete as I roll. Something crunches under my hip as I climb to my feet again and run for the truck. I'm bleeding, I'm aching, but I'm alive. I can't worry about Isis having a firing angle on me, I just run my ass off, hoping that I can cover the distance before she shoots again.

I'm either lucky or someone's looking over me as I get into Carson's truck without catching another bullet from Isis, being shot in the ass by her once in my life is enough. I start she the engine and jam the gas pedal to the floor, knowing Isis has to be executing her egress plan as well. Thankfully, my prints were permanently altered long ago via skin grafts. So the cops won't be able to identify me that way.

Driving away, I quickly blend with traffic, doing my best to not stand out at all once I'm three blocks away. Carson's going to hate me for this, but I know there are traffic cameras in the area. Carson's truck is going to need to disappear quickly.

I reach into my pocket to pull out my phone, groaning when it comes out cracked and broken. Well, at least I know now the sound wasn't my hip, but I'm now shirtless, bleeding, without a spare t-shirt, driving a truck that needs to be destroyed ASAP... and I don't have a f*cking phone.

And the bitch has my favorite pistol. For some reason, that more than anything else pisses me off. “Okay, Isis. You got this one. Just wait for round two.”





Chapter Fifteen





Melissa





I've slept less than two hours in the past two days, unable to get my mind to shut down after Katrina told us about the police finding Margaret's body at the Magnolia Inn and Suites. Both times, I had to have Andrea or Carson lie down with me, but I woke up in less than an hour, worried sick.

Now I'm sitting in the woods on the rock that overlooks the valley below us, praying with all my heart that Nathan's actually okay. I hear crunching on the ground behind me, and I see Carson's joined me. “Hey, just wanted to make sure you're okay.”

“I will be. Once Nathan's back,” I tell him, looking back down over the valley. “I just need to see his face, to feel his hands. I need to know for sure.”

Carson sighs and sits down on the rock next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. “He will be. Jackson already went down to town and spoke with him on his new phone, and you read his e-mail at least three times. He's just having to take some extra time to make sure that his tail is clear.”

“You're pissed about your truck, aren't you?” I ask, and Carson shakes his head. “Really?”

“Really. It was just a truck, 'Lissa. And I can understand why Nathan had to get rid of it too. I just want him back safe.”

I give Carson a look, nervous. “Really?”

I feel like I'm just repeating myself, but Carson smiles and pats my leg. “Of course. I saw it in the way you kissed him goodbye, and it just took me a smack in the head from Andrea to realize the truth. I'm sorry about that.”

“Ma'am,” I say, and Carson looks up, startled. “Well?”

He chuckles, and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I'm sorry, ma'am. And if you ever have me call you that again I'm so gonna not be happy.”

“If I ever have you call me that again, then you've done something really stupid and I'm not happy either,” I remind him, smiling. “I love you, Carson. And regardless of what happens between me and Nathan, I need you in my life. You and Andrea both.”

Carson goes to answer, but his words are cut off as we hear the sound of an approaching truck engine. I look back, my eyes wide with excitement. “Nathan!”

“Sounds like a big engine,” Carson notes as we jog back toward the compound. I don't really care as I pick up speed, running hard over the last fifty yards or so before I come into the open area close to the house, and then around to the front where I see everyone else already gathered.

Nathan's new truck is bigger than Carson's old Ford, and I can see Jackson already running an appreciative hand over the rumbling hood. “Whoa man, I think I'll let you wreck our van next.”

“Very funny,” Nathan groans, sliding out of the seat. He nearly collapses, and I grab him, holding him up.

“I've got you,” I tell him, holding him up. His skin is blanched white, he's burning with fever, and his breath rasps in his throat. His face is splotchy, with red circles under his eyes and on his cheeks, scaring me silly. “What happened?”

“Infection,” Nathan hisses, coughing. “Caught a couple of scratches.”

“Come on, let's get you inside,” I tell him, grateful when Katrina comes over and takes his other arm, putting it over her shoulder. “Get you some rest.”