Seducing Texas (So not Prince Charming #2)(43)

My hands tremble while holding the glass to my lips.

After a few sips, I say, “It’s been a long journey. I’d like to use the bathroom.” I need to do this before I lose my nerve. I will have to shoot little Manny first and then his father. I wish his son would leave. I don’t want to kill a child, but I don’t want my sister or me to die.

He nods to the one closest to the living area, which is where the gun should be.

I walk as nonchalantly as possible to the bathroom. When I lock the door to the bathroom, I wash my heated face with cold water and stare. I need to calm down. I can do this.

I pull the lid off the toilet and look underneath it. “Oh shit.” The tape is still there, but there’s no gun. Now what do I do?

“She’s gotten away,” comes through the door in Spanish.

Good, but what do I do now? I have no gun and no Willa. Fuck.

How do I stop them from searching for her?

I sneak out of the bathroom and little Manny has his gun pointed at me. While I stare down the barrel, a nervous tick forms in my brow. I’m so screwed. Please let Willa get away.

I look at him and then beyond where he stands. “So you already lost my sister. I guess there’s no trade.”

He jerks me around by the arm and brings the gun to my head. He’s shorter than me by four inches. My whole body stiffens and my breath stops cold while my heart takes off on a race.

I close my eyes and calm myself. “Remember, you don’t have the flash drive yet.”

“What does that matter if we kill you?” he says.

Now my whole body is sweating. “Your whole family will go to jail. There are multiple copies.”

“I’m a juvenile, so I won’t, and I can run the business without my dad.”

“You think your competition would let you?”

He looks unsure, and I get a better look at the gun. It’s a revolver and isn’t cocked. He pushes me to his father’s den, and inside, Willa has the gun that was probably supposed to be mine trained on Uncle Manny.

“I’ll kill her,” little Manny says. “Put your gun down.”

We need to hurry before the guards come in. “Shoot him, Willa,” I say.

Without a word, her gun goes off, and I wrestle the gun from little Manny. I toss it aside and punch him in the throat. Uncle Manny slumps to the ground, and Willa races toward me. She shoots little Manny between the eyes, and I jump backward. Surprise shocks my system, and I can’t move. She shot a child, and there's so much blood.

Tears rush down her cheeks. She throws her arms around me. “They will never come after us again.”

Reality hits me. I hate her killing little Manny, but she’s right. They’re both crazy.

“We need to leave,” I say, pressing the button between my breasts.

My aunt rushes into the den. She gasps, takes a steadying breath, and closes the door behind her. My heart ratchets up its stammering. She could give us away.

When a pounding comes at the door, she opens and tells them that the girls are dead and she wants a moment with her husband. She tells the guard to remain at his station. She locks the door, goes to the safe, and opens it. She pulls out stacks of cash and a gun and stuffs them into a bag.

“How much time do I have?” she asks.

“Not much,” I say. “Juarez will be here soon.”

She nods. “Will he come for us?”

“Let me see what you took.” I quickly go through everything in her hands. She has passports and money. That’s it.

I search the safe, finding a laptop and a backup drive. I pull them out.

“Not now,” I say. “Juarez wants Manny’s records.”

Tears shine in her dark eyes. “I don’t have anything to do with the business. You have my word.”

She grasps my hand. “Thank you, Cynthia. If my girls and I are safe, that’s all I can hope for.”

She calls her daughters and tells them to meet her at the SUV in the underground garage. “There’s another car you can take down there. We’re only taking ourselves. Everything else will stay.”

She looks outside the door and signals us to follow her. This is the life of a drug dealer’s wife. Look out for your children and know where the money and passports are.

We follow her down into the cellar where two SUVs, one a black Escalade, and her two frightened daughters wait. Then the fireworks start. The report of rapid firing automatic weapons thunders above us.

To my aunt’s word, the girls have nothing on them other than the clothes on their backs. The youngest is sobbing.

“Go,” I say to Uncle Manny’s wife.

She scoots into the SUV, but Christina hurries over to Willa and hugs her. “Lo siento,” she cries before hurrying into the vehicle. The Escalade peels out of the garage and out into the desert.

“Give me the gun,” I say to Willa.

“You can’t go back up there,” she says, her eyes wide with fear.

“Shane’s up there. I have to go.” This isn’t his fight.

“What about Aedean?”

“He’s fine. He should be waiting at the house.”

Disappointment engrains into her expression, but she won’t say he should’ve come. Shane shouldn’t have come. God, don’t let him die.