Slow Agony (Assassins, #2)(5)

There was the sound of footsteps within the house. A man’s voice, heavy with a New York accent. “You hear that, sweetheart?”

A muffled sound, almost like a cry. Was that Naomi?

“Maybe our Griffin’s already found us. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

It was him. And Naomi must be here too.

Anger surged through me, white hot. I reached into my jacket and took the gun out of the waist of my pants. It was cool and heavy in my hands. My heart seemed to steady, and my breathing evened out. Holding the gun had calmed me.

I took a step forward, looking in the window. The voice hadn’t sounded too close, but I couldn’t be sure.

The room inside the window was empty except for a moth-eaten blanket in one corner and an empty six pack of Bud Light.

Clutching my weapon, I kept moving.

“Griffin?” said the man. “That you? Did you miss me? Your old jailhouse pal?”

He was in the front of the house. I could hear that now. I quickened my movement, heading up to the corner.

“I missed you. I missed everything about you.”

He was just around the corner. I lifted the gun, took a deep breath.

And whipped around the front of the house, gun first.

He was as tall as Griffin, maybe taller. He was wearing a clingy white tank top that showed off all his muscles. His arms were covered in winding tattoos. He was sneering, but he was surprised to see me. “You?”

“Where’s Naomi?” I said.

“Where’s Griffin?” he countered, taking a step towards me.

“Hold it,” I said. “I will shoot you.”

He laughed. “You really aren’t that scary, blondie.”

I squeezed the trigger.

Motherf*cking safety was still on. I disengaged it, feeling flustered.

He was really laughing now, still walking towards me. “Come on, now. Why don’t you just put down that gun, and—”

I pulled the trigger again.

The gun kicked in my hand and the sound exploded through the air.

The man gurgled, his expression stricken. His hands were clutching his neck.

I could see that he was bleeding, blood gushing from his throat. I grimaced, feeling sick. I’d just shot a man.

He gazed at the blood on his hand in disbelief.

I took a step away from him.

He reached for me with his bloody hand, staring at me, pleading with his eyes for me to do something.

I put my hand over my mouth. Oh. Oh God.

He fell to his knees, one hand still clutching his throat.

Then he fell face down on the porch of the abandoned house, thudding against the old wood.

I was shaking. I lowered my gun. I walked around his body and into the abandoned house. “Naomi?”

I heard her cry out, but her voice was muffled.

I followed the noise until I found her. She was tied up just like she had been in the picture. I knelt next to her. “Oh God, Naomi, I am so sorry.”

I pulled the duct tape away from her mouth.

She shrieked.

“Sorry,” I said again, wincing.

“Leigh? What the f*ck is going on?”

I got to work untying her. “It’s complicated, Naomi. I don’t really know, but we need to get out of here, okay?”

“Are the police with you?” she said.

“No,” I said. “We can call them, though.” Or... Should I do that? I’d just killed a man with a gun that I didn’t have a permit to own. “Well, maybe we shouldn’t call them.”

Her hands were free, and she helped me work on the knots at her feet. “Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

I helped her to her feet. “You’re okay, right? You’re okay?”

“No,” she said. “That man kidnapped me and tied me up and hit me over the head.” She touched the wound on her forehead. “I’m the farthest thing from okay there is.”

“Right,” I said. “Well, let’s get you back to my apartment so that you can get cleaned up, okay?”

“Your apartment? Leigh, I want to go to the hospital. I want to file a police report against that *, and I want him locked up. And I want—”

“He’s dead,” I said. I led her out of the house, onto the porch. His body was lying there. His blood was soaking into the wooden boards. There was a lot of blood.

“Oh my God, Leigh,” said Naomi. “What happened?”

“I shot him,” I said.

Naomi backed away from me. “You what?”

I looked back at the man. “I had to.” I turned to her. “I don’t like killing people, but he was hurting you, and he was threatening Griffin, and—”

“You killed people before?”

“Only one,” I said.

“Only...” She shook her head very slowly, horror all over her face.

I gulped. “Naomi, please. We have to get out of here. And we can’t go to the police, because I’m not supposed to have this gun.”

Of course, there was the little problem of the fact that I’d reported all of this to them earlier that night. How was I going to get around that? Tell them it was all a misunderstanding? This was a mess. I had no idea what to do.