11. Collins #3
I found a light pink and almost light peach sweater dress to match the lavender one.
Then I changed gears and hit the jeans section for myself.
Being out in the open was nice and all, but it was taxing.
Yes, Kyle and I had changed our hair colors and our clothes.
We blended in more than we stood out most of the time, but as much as I was having fun, I was also getting antsy.
It was time to go home, whether or not we were ready to.
By the time I went to the counter to pay, I had three boxes of shoes along with four outfits. Kyle had grabbed a few things, including two pairs of shoes. I swore if he bought another pair of loafers, I’d beat him with them.
“Interesting selections,” he said once we were back outside. “And so much for a light bit of shopping.”
I snorted. “You had fun. Don’t act like you didn’t.”
“I did,” he agreed. “It’s the first time we’ve been able to walk out in public without having to worry about being seen. It’s nice. But...”
Yeah, but... I understood what he was getting at. I felt it too. “Well, don’t get too carried away. We’re not that free. ” Yet. We weren’t that free, yet . I hoped one day we would be.
When we were, I promised myself I’d go somewhere far away for a couple of weeks and just relax.
A quick glance at my phone showed we’d been gone a little over three hours.
Time flies when you’re having fun. It also meant we’d probably exposed ourselves long enough, or perhaps too long.
“We should get back. Didn’t want to worry everyone. ”
Kyle peered at my phone and frowned. I hated the way his brows furrowed.
There was too much stress there. Too much adultness when he should still enjoy his teenage years.
He should be getting ready for some party, not worrying about how long we were out, and how much that made us a target.
“Shit. Hadn’t realized we’d been gone for so long.
Didn’t seem like it.” No, it didn’t. “Should we grab some lunch on the way back?”
Lunch sounded good. I was in the mood for another greasy burger, fries, and onion rings, maybe a shake to boot. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
As we approached the garage, I had Kyle hand me everything so I could put it in the trunk.
I hadn’t parked far into the first level, so we were close to an exit if anything should happen.
Glass, probably a bottle, clanked against the ground, then skittered toward us, grabbing my attention as I’d pulled my keys from my bag.
I didn’t even have time to glance over my shoulder to see where the noise came from—stupid on my part—I know, before movement caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.
The speed at which the air left my body as I was being rushed from the side stunned me, leaving me unable to react.
I fell to the ground in a heap, my body impacting against the concrete with a hard smack, rattling my teeth and my brain.
I gasped, trying to pull air into my battered lungs.
Behind me, men were fighting. Their grunts as skin hit skin left me more than a little confused.
What the fuck? Spots dance in my eyes as my vision dimmed.
I had to get a breath in, but it felt as though the weight of the world was on top of me.
I screamed even though it’d been as if my ribs were being compressed and my lungs were being squeezed shut.
When I finally drew in a deep inhale of air, I groaned, wanting to crawl into myself because of the pain.
I could breathe again. That’s all that mattered.
The man on top of me laughed as he pulled a knife out and held it to my throat.
I didn’t recognize him, but I memorized his features in case I made it out of this alive.
He had black hair slicked back from his face, menacing eyes, full lips, and tattoos around his brows with a single teardrop at the corner of his right eye.
The guy wasn’t a professional from the families; I didn’t think.
Maybe a gang member trying to get his foot in the door?
He wore a checkered shirt and black Dickies.
His breath smelled of alcohol, and his clothes reeked of cigarette smoke. Oh great, he’s drunk.
Or well on his way to it.
The smack of flesh, along with a distressed grunt, drew my attention away from the guy holding me down. To my right, Kyle was fighting two men twice his size. Where did he learn to fight? Stupid question to be asking now, while we were trying to save ourselves.
“What the fuck is going on?” I cried, breaking out of whatever trance I’d been in. “Who are you?”
Obviously, I should have known who they were, right?
I mean, I’d only been on the run for basically a year with my brother because someone wanted us dead.
Like, duh, Stephanie, who the hell do you think would come after you?
I blamed being knocked to the ground and lack of blood flow to the brain for why I was being so stupid.
“Who sent you?” I needed answers and since the guy on top of me was only holding the knife to my throat and not actively trying to kill me, I thought I’d try asking questions. Again, not my finest moment.
“Hey kid, your sister is getting too nosy. If you don’t submit like a good little boy, I’m going to cut her,” the guy on top of me said, pressing the blade flush to my skin.
Kyle’s head popped up, and the guys he was fighting took advantage of him, not paying attention. I didn’t know which one hit my brother, but he went down hard, and I screamed again. The two men standing over him laughed while the guy holding me down licked his bottom lip.
“All you need to know is you’re my ticket in. Be a good girl and shut up,” the guy said, digging the tip of the blade into my neck.
The crack of a gun had been the only sign anyone else was there.
When the guy sitting on me collapsed, falling to the ground in what seemed like slow motion, surprise and shock registering on his face before he completely fell into a lifeless heap, I shrieked again, drawing the attention of the two men.
Then, one by one, they fell with two more well-placed rounds.
I was trapped. I couldn’t slide under my car, and I couldn’t run.
The rapid beat of my heart drowned out everything as I lay there in a semi-huddled mass.
The faint trickle of something rolling down my throat gave me pause.
Had he stabbed me? Was I hurt? Frantically, I pawed at my skin, desperate to figure out how bad the situation was.
As it was, three men were dead, and someone had been lurking, waiting, for whatever reason.
“Collins?” Robbie’s voice sent a rush of relief through me as I tried to process what was happening. “Collins.” He was in front of me in a flash. “You’re okay. You’re fine. If you don’t stop digging your nails into your skin, you’re really going to hurt yourself. I got you.”
“Kyle,” I croaked, unable to move yet. I was frozen. Scared out of my mind. Possibly in shock. No, definitely in shock.
“On it,” Benny stated. “What were you two thinking?”
I couldn’t answer him. Not yet. I was still too fucked up to even think straight, let alone answer Benny’s questions.
“Now might not be the time,” Robbie chided him.
“Get their shit, so we can go. Don’t need to be around when the cops get here.” Shit, the cops. My blood was on the knife. My fingerprints were on my car. I screamed. The gun shots. Someone saw us. There was no way around that now.
I fucked up. Oh God. I’d been so damn stupid.
Robbie didn’t give me a chance to say anything.
He gathered up all of our bags and my purse, then threw me over his shoulder, not my proudest moment, and carried me to the waiting Land Rover— fucking Land Rover .
Robbie situated me in the seat, buckling me in, then plucked the keys to my car out of my hand.
He closed the door in my face, pounding on the window before taking off once more.
That was the last thing I remembered until waking up inside the main house with Miceli standing over me. He didn’t look happy to see me at all.
Oh shit. I think I royally fucked up this time.