Chapter 9
9
S ince she’s ready to go, we may as well get on the road. I’ll call Ice on the way to let him know I’m delivering our package earlier than we planned. I jump into my jeans and make myself a large mug of coffee, savoring the rich aroma as I take the first sip. The bitter liquid burns my tongue, but I welcome the jolt of caffeine it provides.
Alicia stands at the opposite side of the room, her arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold herself together. Yesterday night I would have felt sorry for her. Now I know better than to let her manipulate me with those wide, innocent eyes.
“Let’s go,” I tell her, my voice gruff as I open the door of the shack and stride toward the garage where my trusty SUV is parked.
She follows me, carrying her backpack and looking miserable, reminding me that I’ve learned not to fall for that act anymore.
“Get in the car,” I growl, not bothering to mask the bitterness in my voice. She’s brought this on herself.
Alicia climbs into the passenger seat without a word. I slam the car door shut behind her, the early morning sunlight glinting off the sleek black paint of my ride. As I slide in behind the wheel, she looks up at me, her eyes wide and pleading. I steel myself against the urge to comfort her. I can’t afford to let my guard down again, not after the stunt she pulled. In a twisted way, I’m grateful she tried to run—if she hadn’t, I would still be wrapped around her finger, blind to her true nature.
The engine roars to life, and I peel out of the garage. The drive to Miami stretches out before us, and I’m not looking forward to this couple of hours of tense silence. I grip the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white as I try to keep my emotions in check. Anger, disappointment, and a lingering sense of betrayal swirl inside me, threatening to spill over.
Beside me, Alicia fidgets nervously, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. I can feel her eyes on me, but I refuse to meet her gaze. I’m afraid of what I might see there—fear, remorse, or worse, that calculating look that once fooled me so completely. For now, I need to focus on the road ahead and push all thoughts of her from my mind. The sooner I can hand her over to justice, the better.
The minutes tick by, each one feeling like an eternity. The distance between us is more than just physical—it’s a chasm of broken trust and shattered illusions. I grip the steering wheel tightly, fighting to maintain control over the roiling emotions within me.
Finally, Alicia speaks up, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. “Ace, I’m sorry.”
I let out a harsh laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. “Sorry doesn’t cut it, Alicia.” The words taste like acid on my tongue, a bitter reminder of the betrayal I feel.
“No, that’s not true,” she protests, her voice gaining strength. “I never lied to you. I was scared, yes, but everything I told you was the truth.”
I shake my head, my jaw clenched so tightly I can feel the muscles straining. “How can I believe that now? After you tried to run?” The pain is still fresh and raw in my mind.
Alicia falls silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the rush of the road beneath the tires and the pounding of my heart in my ears. Then, she takes a deep breath and speaks again, her words measured and careful.
“You’re right, I shouldn’t have tried to run. But you have to understand, I panicked, and made a mistake.”
I risk a glance at her, and what I see in her eyes is not deceit, but raw vulnerability. She’s laying herself bare, offering me a chance to trust her again. Against my better judgment, I feel a flicker of hope ignite within me. Maybe, just maybe, she’s telling the truth. But the wound of her betrayals is fresh. I’m not sure I can let myself believe her so easily.
“My team and I will finish what got started, but first, I’ve got a mission: I’m taking you to the authorities in Miami,” I say, keeping my voice gruff. My harsh edge is gone. “They’ll sort this out, and if you’re innocent, you’ll be cleared.” I’m not real good at this emotional stuff, but I know I have to see this through, even if it means putting my own feelings aside for now.
Alicia nods, her shoulders sagging.
“Thank you, Ace. Thank you for giving me a chance.”
I don’t respond, focusing my attention on the road ahead. The traffic is hell. Fuck morning rush hour.
I’m glad Ice’s the sort of man who won’t drop the ball. Especially since, right now, I need to know the truth—not only for Alicia’s sake but also for my own peace of mind. A nagging voice in the back of my head wonders if I’ll lose part of my self-respect over this whole ordeal. I’ve always prided myself on being a good judge of character, able to separate fact from fiction. But now I’m forced to confront the possibility that I may have been blinded, easily fooled by a pretty face and a convincing story of innocence.
The damning evidence that Ghost uncovered plays on a torturous loop in my mind. The money transfers, the accounts… It all points to one inescapable conclusion: Alicia Floyd could very well be guilty as sin of the crimes she’s accused of. And I, the seasoned bounty hunter who prides himself on never being duped, may have fallen for her act hook, line, and sinker like a naive rookie. The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and chips away at my confidence. How could I have been so blind?