6. Dana
“A hit? Like someone wants to kill me?” It sounds absurd when I say it out loud, and I chuckle weakly in response.
I wait for Michael or Jack to break a smile, but they are serious.
“We don’t know who initiated the contract. Link tried to get in, but it’s closed. It’s most likely Matteo Sparr or someone in his organization.” Michael’s tone is solemn, and my face heats up under his scrutiny.
“So Maxwell is?—”
“Dead.” Michael’s gaze keeps shifting to Jack, and he is careful with his words.
I’m hit with a sudden familiarity.
They are keeping information from me—again. This is how I felt when they spoke to Jessa and me last year.
I was sure if Maxwell was alive he would have been captured by now. But he’s dead, and it makes sense that Matteo would want revenge on Jessa for what she did to his son.
Jack has a built-in security team; I’m the only other connection she had in this world, but I’m not sure I buy this as a valid reason for a hit.
“How did you find me?” I covered my tracks like Jessa taught me. I should have been untraceable, and my mind races to my mom. She was never perfect, but she is my mother. I never made contact with her after I ran. The last I heard, she remarried and they moved out of state. They’d been looking for work for a year before everything went down with Jessa. “Is my mom okay?”
“As far as we know, yes. But that isn’t how we found you,” Jack reassures me, and I startle when warmth settles into my hand.
My breath catches in my throat as Michael’s hand covers both of mine on top of my backpack. Meeting his inquisitive stare, I furrow my brows at his concern.
I told him a lot about my relationship with my parents; I talked about school and my time with Jessa. I probably should have held back more of my history, but it felt cathartic to talk to someone other than Jessa.
I thought we had grown close. I was lonely, and I latched on to the attention he gave me.
Then we took things too far.
At the time, it was everything I wanted. Now it looks more like a lapse in judgment.
Disappointment sinks into my gut at how much I wanted to trust these men who held us captive. I paid for my misplaced trust with Jessa’s life.
I meekly nod at Michael as I pull my hands out of his grasp to adjust my pack. I shift in my seat, and he studies me for a long second before taking his hand away. He leans back, placing some distance between us.
Michael clears his throat and finishes Jack’s story. “You sent flowers to Jessa’s grave. We tracked you through the purchase. It was the same day the hit was ordered.” My head bobbles as he speaks.
Slowly, I put the pieces together.
I wanted to do something for her, but I didn’t know where she was laid to rest. So I sent them to her parents’ gravesite, hoping no one would pay any attention.
“Was Jessa buried with her parents?”
Jack’s nod is terse, and I imagine the reminder is difficult for him too. But knowing she is with her family grants me a little more peace.
The day I ordered the flowers bounces into my thoughts.
“I didn’t use any of my information to buy the flowers. I used—a friend’s. Do you think he might be in trouble? I should warn him.” Before I’ve finished my sentence, they share another pointed look. “What?”
My tolerance for their side-eye glances is wearing thin, and I decide the best way to move this along is to move this along.
“That’s five minutes.” I grab my backpack and stand up. Michael’s face drops as Jack reaches over and places his hand on mine, just like Michael did, silently pleading with me to sit back down.
I decide to give them one last chance.
Who am I kidding? We all know I’m not getting out of here on my own. They are only pacifying me by pretending I have any control over this situation. When it suits them, they’ll haul me out of here like they did at the farmhouse. The difference now is, those kids outside won’t let it happen, and someone will get hurt.
“Your friend Stan is dead. I’m sorry, Dana.” Jack’s words punch me in the stomach, and for a moment it feels like I’ve been tossed into some kind of pseudo reality.
Stan is dead.
“Because of me?”
How could I have been so careless? Dropping the last few inches into my seat with a thud, I look at Jack, dumbfounded.
I must look like I feel, because when Jack continues, his voice is soft. “We just came from his place. It looks like it happened fast. He was shot about eight hours ago,” Jack answers as Michael continues to examine my reaction.
My muscles tense with my growing anger.
Not again.
My face must be giving away my heart, because Jack quickly continues, “Dana, whether we are here or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you have a hit on you, and someone is cashing in on it. We’re here to help you. But there is something we need to know.”
“What?”
“When you left last year, you took your phone. Did you keep it, or the contents of it?” At Jack’s question, both men look at me, and it finally registers.
They aren’t here for me, and Michael isn’t here because he was concerned for my well-being. Whatever happened between us when I was being held is irrelevant to him.
I’m holding information, and they need it.
“Why?”
Both men pause long enough to tell me they don’t want to answer my question. Michael’s lips part slightly, but words don’t follow as Jack takes a deep breath, shifting in his seat.
“We have reason to believe there were some files included with the transfer, files that someone is trying to get their hands on.” Jack is only giving me enough to appease me, and Michael looks almost relieved that he isn’t the one skirting around my questions.
What would Jessa do?
It’s been months since I’ve needed to think like this. Although, if I had been thinking like her all along, I wouldn’t have made a mistake and gotten caught.
Jessa would keep her information to herself until she was sure she should part with it, and they aren’t giving me everything I need to know.
I’m in the dark again.
If I tell them I have it, they’ll take me in, and I can’t go back to where I last saw Jessa. But if I don’t have it, if I have no idea where or what these files are, they can deal with this hit, and I might be able to disappear again. They’d have no reason to hold me. At least, I hope they wouldn’t.
“No. Once I downloaded the identity I needed, I destroyed the phone and threw the pieces off a bridge into a lake.” I cross my arms to hide my lie and lean back in my chair, waiting for their next move.
Michael slowly crosses his own arms and leans back, mirroring me a second time. I maintain my expression, and Jack looks between us before he reaches his hand out and points to my backpack.
Icy relief floods my veins at my choice to not take everything. Knowing the drive is hidden away in the kitchen, I hand him my bag without hesitation, and he rummages through it as he speaks.
“We need to get you out of here and somewhere safe tonight. You need to tell those kids out there to go home and you’ll see them tomorrow. This”—Jack waves his hand at the group standing on the street—“is going to draw attention, and we have someone looking for you who, we hope, doesn’t know your new identity yet.” He stops talking before he gets to the part where he tells me what will happen to me once this is over.
If I agree to go with them, I may be able to get back here and sort everything out in the morning. Or I can defy them and be dragged out of here, resulting in a big throwdown in the middle of the street.
I decide not to push it. If I’m too eager to know my fate, they may decide I’m a flight risk.
“Fine. I’ll talk to the kids. Just let me handle it, okay?” I stand, and both men rise with me as Jack nods. I walk toward the front of the shop.
Outside, Logan stands in the middle of the street, by the car. The youngest of Michael’s team members is sitting in the driver’s seat.
The sun has dropped behind the peak of the mountain, casting a shadow over the town.
Across the street, Tyler pushes off a wall and steps from the curb onto the road toward me, followed by his friends. I step forward to meet him.
My nerves are shot, and an anxious energy runs from my heart to my extremities.
With my next step, I miscalculate the distance from the sidewalk to the road. Lurching forward, I quickly adjust as a loud pop echoes in the distance, and a gust of air flies past my ear.
I barely register the sound of shattering glass when Jack shouts, “GUN! GET DOWN!” I freeze, but my body is still moving.
A strong arm around my waist lifts me, and the kids scatter in all directions. Garbled yells and screams ring out before everything goes silent.
I attempt a head count, trying to recall who was in the shop earlier, and I know I’m missing a few faces. Logan is crouched down beside their car. He and Jack have their guns drawn and are looking toward the rooftops.
Michael spins me in place, looking me over as he pushes me back toward a parked vehicle.
His eyes shift between me and the direction he’s moving me in, and everything feels awkward before I realize what he’s doing. There is a direct line between me and wherever the gunshot came from, and Michael has placed himself in front of me to block the next shot.
Concern overrides fear, and I clutch onto the arms of his jacket and move with him, pulling us both somewhere safe so he won’t be hurt.
Warmth oozes between my fingers. I lift my palm, and my stomach heaves into my throat at the sight of blood coating my hand.
“Michael, you’re shot.” My feet refuse to keep moving, but he doesn’t stop, and the soles of my shoes scrape against the ground as he continues to move me, now without my help.
“Dana, move your ass before they take another shot.” His bark snaps me out of my haze, and I pull him into hiding beside a parked car with me as he puts his hand to his head and talks into his earpiece. “Eagle, do you have eyes?”
While Michael talks with his team, I slide over a foot to make sure all the kids are safe, but Michael pulls me back into place beside him with a stern, “Stay.”
Conflicting thoughts clash with the chaos unfolding around us, and I attempt to shift my body over once more to look through the windows of the car onto the street.
Kaley is on the ground in the middle of the road with Tyler lying on top of her, trying to shield her while they both attempt to crawl to safety. I lift myself up higher, and the street is quiet. I open my mouth to yell to Tyler when a hand fists my shirt. As it drags me down, two shots ring out in quick succession. My knees hit the pavement as the window above me shatters, raining shards around us.
“DAMMIT, WOMAN. I WON’T LOSE YOU AGAIN.” The look Michael levels on me keeps me in place, and a needy shudder travels through my veins with his words.
His eyes remain on me, but his attention is elsewhere. Cocking his head to the side, he waits, and I stay still and quiet while I watch him work.
His sleeve is now a darker shade than the rest of his jacket as blood soaks into the threads. He’s hyperfocused on every detail around him, and I’m suddenly struck by a range of emotions that make no sense to me.
He keeps one hand gripped on my top at all times.
He took a bullet for me.
I try to focus my attention on the scene around me, but I feel like I’m watching a silent movie. There are no screams, or maybe there are and the blast from the gun has deafened me.
My limbs are heavy, and I catch my head as it bobs forward. My fingers tingle, and the start of a giggle forms in my throat.
I don’t feel so good.
“Okay, the shooter has been neutralized.” Michael’s update is quiet, meant only for me.
He stands, lifting me by one hand on my shirt and one on my forearm, so I follow him up.
“It’s all clear. I need to see all of you kids out here right now.” I think the order comes from Logan, and I lazily turn my head as everyone steps out from their hiding spots.
I try to finish my head count, but I’ve lost my concentration, and a wave of nausea threatens to knock me over.
I brought a hitman to this town.
These people are here to live a quiet life, and I ruined it because I stopped running.
These kids could have died because of me.
I tip to the side as I grab Michael’s arm for support, and he winces as I withdraw my blood-soaked hand a second time, waving it in front of my face as I examine the glistening crimson coating my fingers.
“Dana?” The volume of his voice fluctuates, and I’m as light as a feather.
So light, I might just float away.
“Well, that’s done then,” I mutter to no one in particular as the pink and orange shades in the clouds catch my attention.
I suddenly want to close my eyes before?—