The Lion's Den(102)

I look right and left. Nothing but closed doors. This building is designed to allow only one entrance and exit point. I could sprint around him, but I’d only be stopped by the security guard in front. I stall. “I went to look for a bathroom.”

“Don’t lie!” he snaps.

“I’m not—”

He considers me, unblinking. “Thought you’d sell your friend out, huh?”

I break for the door, but he grabs my arm before I can get away. “Ouch,” I yelp.

I try to wrench free, but his grip is unyielding as he shoves me down the hall.

I change my tactic. “You know she killed her. You’ve seen the security tapes,” I reason. “It’s going to come out. You may have bought off the cops here, but with that many witnesses, and the boat crew, too, there’s no way to keep it quiet forever.”

“Shut up, Belle.”

The metal detector beeps and flashes red as he hustles me through. The security guard averts his eyes. Vinny pushes us out the double doors into the heat of the glaring sun, so bright that I recoil, my hand flying to shade my eyes.

Something bulges under his jacket. Is it a gun tucked into the back of his waistband? That must have been what set off the metal detector. His grip on my arm is so tight, I’m losing feeling in my fingers.

“You can let go now,” I say. “I’m coming.”

He flings my arm at me. I rub the red skin where he gripped me and switch tactics again. “Vinny, look. I know you’re loyal to John. But Summer’s a liability. He should cut his losses and get rid of her. He’s still clean. He wasn’t there. He’s only reported what Summer told—”

“Stop talking!” he snarls. “You don’t understand.”

This is good. At least he’s communicating with me. “What don’t I understand?”

He leans in close, his breath sour. I force myself not to back away as a drop of sweat runs down his brow and splashes onto my shoulder. “This is nothing, a blip on his radar. He will not change his plans for this. Maybe he gets rid of Summer, maybe not. But on his time. It’s not your fight. Stay out of it.”

His sweat trickles down my arm. “You know he was sleeping with Amythest,” I say.

“So?” He throws his arm wide at the town. “He takes what he wants. This town, he owns it. It will be destroyed next month. And he will build a resort, a port—billions of dollars. That is what this trip is about. Not this…girl drama.”

“It’s not drama,” I say. “It’s murder.” I don’t know why I’m trying, since he’s clearly never going to see it my way. We’re operating from two completely different rule books, and his trumps mine.

“Accusations can go both ways,” he warns.

He wheels around and marches down the wide stone steps. The glare of the sun on the white stone is so bright, I can hardly look at the ground in front of me as I hurry after him. “Are you threatening me?”

“Your sister’s on her way to your grandmother’s,” he growls.

What? How does he know that? “Please leave Lauren out of this,” I beg, remembering all the emails.

“Don’t be stupid.” He turns to face me. “Remember why you’re here.”

I’m trying to figure out what he means when I notice the gun in his hand, glinting in the sunlight, and my mind blanks. The breath goes out of me. Instinctively, I raise my hands. “Vinny, please.”

He comes around behind me and buries the barrel of the gun just above my tailbone. Suddenly the heat of the day is gone. I’m cold with terror, every nerve in my body focused on the hard point of metal thrust into my back. “Walk,” he orders.

I put one foot in front of the other, my mind speeding. I think of Lauren, my parents, Grannie, Eric. I have to get away. It can’t end here. “Please don’t kill me,” I plead. “I’ll keep my mouth shut. I swear.”

“I’m not gonna kill you,” he hisses into my hair. “I’m helping you.”

Wait, what?

I twist around to see if he’s fucking with me, and he prods me with the gun. “Keep walking.”

He pushes me up a deserted street that doesn’t look familiar. The cobblestones are uneven, all the shops shuttered. Is he just pretending he’s helping me so I’ll comply while he walks me to my death?

Apprehension thrums under my skin. “Helping me do what?”

“Get the fuck out of here. Against my orders.”

“Why?”

“I’ve done terrible things for him,” he confesses grimly. “But I don’t believe in hurting women and children.”

My mind spins. Could he actually be trying to help me? “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t.” He prods me forward. “There’s a string of towns just over the hill up there.” He points ahead of us. “Find the train. Come to 12 Chemin de la Pommière in La Quessine at nine tonight. I’ll get you out.”

“But how? I have no money, no passport.…”

He reaches in his pocket and hands me a few folded bills. “Twelve Chemin de la Pommière, in La Quessine. At nine.”

I wrench around to see his face. “Where is that?”