Текст книги "Bold Tricks"

Автор книги: Karina Halle

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It was almost sad when we finally bid adios to Mexico. We ended up spending a few more days in the country, just lying on the beach and trying to get our lives back on track, to remember how to be real people in normal situations. The only problem was, the stint in Zihuatenejo was just a vacation, just a blip of normalcy before we had to delve back into things we didn’t want to do.

None of us wanted to take Ben like that. If there was any other way, we would have taken it. But Gus was right – either Camden would never see his son again or this was his only choice. And in any other mother’s arms, Camden would have probably let that happen.

Not with Sophia.

And it was she who was on our lips as we drove up the country and back into California. The border officials were a little suspicious of the three of us, but our passports all went through with flying colors and when they searched our vehicle – thoroughly, I might add – they didn’t find anything. We had ditched every weapon from the car in a gully outside of Tijuana. We were clean.

“So where’s the first stop for our new lives?” I asked as we drove through San Diego. I felt so much safer being back in America, back on my home turf, but I wouldn’t dare let myself relax. Not yet. “Do we need to be close to Sophia?”

“We need to find out if Sophia is still living where she was,” Gus said from the front seat. “We can use my place as a home base. I have a friend with a house up the street from me who rents it out on a weekly basis.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “Not that I don’t want you two in my house, but you know, just having the one bedroom and all it might be a little awkward.”

And loud, I thought as I felt the heat creeping on my cheeks. Just the other night someone in an adjacent room complained about how loud our sex had been. Loud and frequent. Damn prudes.

Camden winked at me in the mirror and we drove on until we ended up at the beautiful enclave of Pismo Beach. After Gus set things up with his friend and the house, which was a bit too large for the two of us but at least it was available, Camden and I headed to Target to stock up on all things wonderful and American. We had to get through the tough part first but we were still at the start of our new lives together. I even paused at the baby section, picking up an adorable tiny tee-shirt that said The Cramps on it.

“Look!” I exclaimed, shoving it in Camden’s face. “Your favorite band.”

He grinned and raised an eyebrow. “What if she’s a girl?”

“Like hell our daughter wouldn’t be a fucking rocker chick.” I threw it in the basket. “I don’t care if I’m jinxing it, we’re buying it.”

He pushed the cart along gleefully and I was hit with a sudden wham of pain. Not for my leg, no that was much better. I remembered what happened the last time I thought I was pregnant, all those years ago with Javier. I jinxed it then.

Even saying his name in my head put shivers down my spine and caused me to look around uneasily. Even though I had gotten prematurely excited with him, it wasn’t going to stop me from getting excited with Camden. Camden gave me hope and I was hopeful. He gave me strength and I was strong. We would be together. This all would work out. After everything we’d been through, it had to.

“You okay, baby?” he asked me, putting his arm around my waist.

“I’m good. Just … wary, I guess.”

He was being a bit on edge too, constantly worrying that someone was going to recognize him. Ever since we had come back into the country and had done a quick search of papers and the internet, the whole “Camden McQueen is Wanted” thing was pretty much gone. There were far worse people out there to report, including rumors of cartels coming across the borders and the Mexican Drug War flaring up on American soil, fighting for possession of local gangs and marijuana growers. It was only a matter of time before the war would come north, the papers would report, after a car exploded in San Diego the previous week. Funny how what we were experiencing south of the border was going on right here in our own backyards. Or at least the ghettos, as it seemed to be.

“I don’t think that feeling will be going away anytime soon,” he told me with a sigh. “But at least we’re working on it, right?”

I nodded and leaned into him and continued our shopping like any other twenty-something couple who was about to move in together for the first time would do.

When we got back to our furnished house – two stories overlooking the ocean AND it had a lap pool – Gus came over and we sat on the upper balcony with two of his computers and started mapping out the plan.

Our first step was to figure out where Sophia lived. The three of us would head into Silverlake and see if she was still at her old apartment. If she was, that made our plan a lot simpler. If she wasn’t, well then we had some digging to do.

“If she’s still in the LA area,” Gus said, typing in his computer, “we could at least find out where she works. She was still working as an esthetician, hey Camden?”

He shrugged with one shoulder. “As far as I know. She’d definitely have to be working. I think that was part of the reason why they tried to get the money from me. She wouldn’t have to work anymore.”

“That’s if her brothers were even thinking of sharing the money with her,” I pointed my pen at him as I jotted things down on my notepad. “You don’t know how close she is with them, really, I mean how deep into the gang she goes. Is she just a pawn getting a small cut or does she have a larger stake in these things.”

He sighed and took off his glasses, rubbing the lens against his shoulder. He had found sexy nerd glasses at Target and had the prescription put into them in no time. He still looked hot as fuck to me – the glasses and tats were a delicious combination – but I did miss his eyes a bit.

“I honestly have no idea anymore,” he said dejectedly, slipping his glasses back on. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

I gave him a wistful look. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find her if we can.”

“And we just did,” Gus announced triumphantly, turning the screen of his laptop to us so we could see. There was a spa in Burbank that said Sophia Madano worked there as one of the skin techs.

Gus picked up his cell phone and handed it to me. “Want to call and make an appointment? What’s your name again?”

I took it from him and cleared my throat, not happy about being someone else again. “I can be Elizabeth Waters.” I dialed the number on the screen and waited for it to pick up. A woman with a thick Asian accent answered. I asked to make an appointment tomorrow, saying I had a woman give me a facial once, pretty, tiny with long brown hair.

“That’s Sophia,” the woman on the phone said. “Tomorrow at two okay?”

“Perfect,” I said, giving her my fake name. I hung up, my chest crawling with nerves already. I gave the phone back to Gus and wiggled my lips. “I guess Elizabeth has a meeting with Sophia tomorrow. Hope she doesn’t recognize me.”

“Red wig, green contacts,” Camden suggested. “I doubt she would, she only saw you from afar.”

I let out a shaky breath and folded my hands on the table. “All right. Then what?”

“Talk to her, find out where she lives,” Gus suggested.

“I might sound like a creeper.”

“You’re a con artist, Ellie,” Gus said.

I frowned at that. “Was.”

He rolled his eyes and ran his fingers over the brackets that lined his mouth. “Regardless of whether you were or still are, you know what you’re doing. Have some confidence in yourself for fuck’s sake and stop beating yourself up over this shit. You’ve done all of this before. Act the part, gather the intel, report back to us. We’ll tail her, scope out the scene. Then move on to the second part of the plan.”

It’s too bad the first part of the plan relied entirely upon me. After everything I’d gone through, it was odd that I was suddenly so afraid of having to go through with this, something that was quite simple. I guess after so many close calls and being placed in the line of fire, I was scared to death that something would go wrong again and everything I’d gained would be taken away.

Later that evening we went for a drive, heading into LA and the area of Silverlake looking for Sophia’s old place. The apartment was occupied and we spent a few hours outside of it, doing surveillance. Camden had a hunch that Sophia wasn’t there anymore because the window shades were a different color and there was a doormat outside the door that wasn’t there before. His suspicion was confirmed when someone stepped outside to have a cigarette: an elderly man, stooped over. Seconds later an old woman came out and yelled at him to come back inside. Definitely not Sophia.

The next morning I was frazzled, having tossed and turned all night. I wasn’t even in the mood for morning sex. At first, anyway, but it’s hard to say no to a cock belonging to 6’2” of toned muscle. I honestly didn’t know how I was going to pull this off with Sophia. I had no problems lying to her and pretending to be a redhead called Elizabeth but I knew I’d have problems with trying not to shank her.

We had rented a car for the occasion, under my fake name so it was ironically legit, and I drove out toward Burbank with Gus and Camden in their rental car not too far behind. I had a Mini Cooper because that’s just how I rolled while they opted for a Honda Civic, fast enough but nondescript. I pulled up the Mini Cooper in the parking lot of a strip mall with its shitty-looking Chinese buffet next to the “spa” and spent longer than I should have sitting there and trying to control my breathing. I eyed myself in the mirror. The red wig I had on was real hair and fit me like a glove, flowing nicely over my shoulders. It didn’t look sex kitteny, it just looked normal, even up close. It was quite obvious I was wearing contacts though, but the natural green color worked well with my skin tone. I could pass for Elizabeth, I could pass for Elizabeth, I could pass for Elizabeth.

I wasn’t Ellie Watt.

I wouldn’t kill Sophia.

I inhaled until my lungs felt like they were going to burst and got out of the car. I was wearing a black pantsuit, sleek and professional. I worked in accounting for an advertising firm. I had my fake business card in my Marc by Marc Jacobs bag we got from Nordstrom Rack. Elizabeth Waters. Single. Twenty-seven years old. Testing out a Mini because I want to buy one but now was afraid the red color clashed with my hair. Loves getting her pores cleaned.

I wouldn’t kill Sophia.

I gathered my courage and walked over to the door and strolled inside like this was my weekly treat. The bell rang overhead and I was met with unflattering fluorescent lighting and a woman at the counter who was snapping gum. It was a busy place, with the manicures and pedicures at the front, Vietnamese women attacking feet and hands while chatting with each other. The rest of the treatments seemed to be in the back in dentist-like chairs.

“Can I help you?” the girl at the counter asked, her hair looking like it got dipped in Pepto Bismol.

I tried to keep my voice down, not wanting Sophia to hear me and see me before I saw her. “I’ve got a two pm appointment with Sophia.”

The girl eyed the computer and nodded, snapping her gum again, before yelling “Sophia!” Then she pointed at the end of the room. “She’s right there.”

I slowly turned and looked. Sophia was walking toward me, a completely blasé look in her eyes. She looked tired but still pretty, a tiny woman with mad curves, her brown hair pulled back off her face so it showed off her aristocratic nose and red pouty lips. She barely smiled, barely acknowledged me.

Which was actually a good thing. But I was so close to grabbing her by the throat and asking if she knew who I was, if she knew what she’d done, if she realized how fucking screwed she was going to get.

I didn’t, though. I just gave her a smile and said, “Hi, I’m Elizabeth,” and extended my hand.

She looked at it, looked at me, gave me a nod and said, “Right this way.”

Bitch.

I followed her over to the station and she instructed me to take off my suit jacket and put my bag on the ground. I lay back in the chair and she asked me what I wanted.

Oh, I had so many answers to that.

None were appropriate.

I told her I wanted my pores squeaky clean and to look fresh. I had a date on the weekend. With a really hot guy.

With glasses, covered in tattoos, I thought, a real fucking work of art, a tortured soul with a heart of gold, who fucks like an animal and will love me till my dying day.

I couldn’t help but smile at my thoughts, at the truth, and lo and behold, she smiled back.

“Hot guy?” she asked. “That sounds nice.”

“Oh, I bet you have tons of hot guys,” I said, my mouth snaking upward.

“Me?” she asked and then quickly rubbed the tip of her nose, sniffing. I bet she didn’t have a cold. “No, most of the guys I go out with aren’t very hot.” She laughed awkwardly.

No, most drug dealers aren’t very hot, I thought.

“Maybe it’s the area,” I tried, fishing for info. “Burbank. Too many actors.”

“Oh, no, I live in Pasadena,” she said. “Too many married men.”

I smiled. “Well that doesn’t help.”

“And they never leave their wives for me,” she continued with a non-committal shrug.

I kept smiling, thinking she was kidding. But she wasn’t.

I had to play it cool.

I swallowed down my rage and took a deep breath.

“Nervous?” she asked me. She was more astute than I thought.

“Yeah, just thinking about the date,” I said, covering up.

“What’s the guy’s name?”

Camden McQueen. Camden McQueen. Camden McQueen.

The words were dying to come out of my mouth, just to see the look on her face but I reeled them in and said, “Derek.”

Hey, why not.

“Hot name,” she said, and then she turned her back to me and started making preparations.

The thing I learned about Sophia over the next hour was that she never once mentioned her son, even when I started babbling to her about being single and wanting children and how was I going to balance working at the advertising firm with a child. She didn’t offer anything about Ben.

Not until the end.

She was slapping moisturizer on my face, hurrying because I could tell her next client had arrived and she said, “Well I hope your date goes well this weekend.”

“Thanks,” I told her, swinging my legs over the side.

She picked up my bag from the ground and got my jacket from the hook. As I slipped the jacket on over my blouse, she gave me a dry smile and said, “Listen, about the kid thing. Don’t bother. They always seem like a good idea at the time but they’ll fuck up your life.”

I knew my jaw had dropped open. I couldn’t help it.

She smiled coldly. “I’m serious. I wish someone had told me that back in the day. So enjoy your hot man. Just make sure you use a condom.”

I closed my mouth and swallowed hard, feeling angry and flustered and shocked all at once.

She motioned for me to go to the counter and then waved over the next woman, someone who was obviously a regular. I moved over to the cashier in a daze.

Had she seriously just told me that?

That definitely didn’t help sway my desire to shank her.

And it definitely made me more determined than ever to get Ben far, far away.

I paid for the treatment – leaving her a shitty tip that had the clerk eyeing me like I was nuts – and then high-tailed it out of there. I got in the Mini Cooper and drove home, my hands kneading the steering wheel through miles and miles of heavy traffic. I knew Camden and Gus were waiting nearby the salon to tail her when she went home for the evening. I quickly gave them a call, relaying the information that I picked up but left out that last part. Camden didn’t need any more ammo, and if he did, well then I would give it to him. For now, he needed to keep his head clear and his emotions under control.

I got home, poured myself a glass of wine and waited for my men to get home. Then I poured myself another glass of wine and waited some more.

Here’s the thing about being alone.

You’re not.

You have your demons with you.

Sitting in that house, the house that wasn’t mine, with the furniture that wasn’t mine, and the red wig splayed across the kitchen table, was the first time I’d been alone in what felt like a long time. There was the time in the jungle before I found Camden, but that was no time to reflect or think.

Now I truly was alone.

And it was terrifying.

Not only being in a large and still unfamiliar house with unfamiliar sounds.

And not because I still had this undercurrent of paranoia at the back of my head, this feeling of dread that followed me around in this bright Californian sunshine.

But because I was alone with my thoughts.

Alone with my guilt.

Alone with the knowledge of the things I’d done.

The people I’d killed.

So many sins.

I put my head on the table and cried. I cried for my mother, for the father I knew and lost, for Violetta, I even cried for Javier. I cried for the men I shot, in self-defense or self-preservation. I cried for the people I’d stolen from, robbed, conned, lied to. I cried for everyone who ever had to meet me.

Everyone except Travis.

For him I felt nothing at all, a stone where my heart should be.

I cried until Camden and Gus eventually came home and found me a blubbering, tear-streaked mess who’d drunk an entire bottle of wine. Camden picked me up in his arms and brought me to bed where he stayed with me until morning.

Then the sun rose and his lips lightened my soul and his heart set me free.

And I was able to move on.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

While I was busy having my pity-party at home, Camden and Gus had stayed out until just after Sophia’s work closed. She got into a Prelude, newer model, and drove on the 134 until she got to Pasadena, Camden and Gus following her the whole time, two cars behind. From the way Camden described it the next morning, it was like old times with him and Gus in the car, only they weren’t chasing me this time.

They said that Sophia lived in a small bungalow on the edge of a golf course, a much easier location to get in and out of than an apartment building, which was good, but she had quite a few neighbors and they were close to her, which could pose a bit of a problem. Camden got choked up when he mentioned Ben. He didn’t see him but he could see a few toys scattered in the front yard, solidifying his existence.

As much as Camden wanted to swoop in there and get his son back, patience was an unfortunate virtue. Gus wanted us to hold off for a few days while they basically stalked Sophia to get an idea of where she went and at what times and who had Ben when she wasn’t around. The tighter the operation was, the less traumatic it would be for Ben.

It was on day three of their surveillance that they discovered the neighbor across the street took Ben to her house every other day, while Sophia placed him in daycare during the remaining days. The neighbor was an older woman in her late fifties who didn’t appear to have children herself but would take in a few other kids in the neighbourhood, maybe for some extra money. An easier target than a daycare.

When they got home that day and we were lying in bed, I could tell that Camden was beating himself up about it and what they had to do.

“Would it make it easier if you knew that Sophia wasn’t a good mother?” I asked, probing him for a hint.

He shook his head and leaned back into the pillows “No. Not really. Because Ben is just a boy and a boy loves his mom. It doesn’t matter how wicked the mother is, that’s the only mother he knows. Ben will be crushed when we do this.”

“And he’ll eventually be crushed if you don’t,” I reminded him. “As will all of us.”

I snuggled into him, kissing down his face, wanting to distract him. “Tell me about our dream life. Where we are. What we’re doing. What you will be doing?”

He smiled and sighed and held me close. He knew I was trying to take his mind off of things and he didn’t care. “Well, if we could I’d still like to go to Gualala. Though in reality we’d probably end up in Canada or something, because Sophia and her brothers will not take this lying down.”

“It’s a dream life, Camden. Gualala it is.”

“Okay then. Gualala. I don’t know if I’d be doing tattoos, maybe I’d try my hand at painting or sculpture. I’ve always loved carving things out of driftwood. I could have an art shop. We’d have Ben and a boy or girl of our own, four years younger. Gus would be there too with some lady love of his.”

“And what am I doing?”

“You?” he eyed me appreciatively. “You’d just stand around and look pretty.”

“And?”

“Give me blow jobs.”

I punched him in the arm.

“What?” he laughed. “I know you love the cock.”

“Shut up.”

“Well then, you tell me,” he said, looking serious and wiping a strand of hair from my face. “What do you want to be doing? If you could do anything.”

The thing was, I’d never really thought about that. I was always just trying to survive and keep going, from one place to the next. I never had goals. I never had dreams. Not really.

I thought back to something I did enjoy once. Something that had put a rift between Camden and I all those years ago.

“I think I’d be a photographer,” I told him. He raised his brows and I continued, “Of course you were always better at that than I was.” He bit his lip sheepishly and I knew he remembered the photos he had taken of me back in art class, for a project he called “Justification.” It had humiliated me at the time, but now I realized that he was only telling the truth. And sometimes the truth fucking hurt.

“I think you would be good at that,” he said. “You have a way of seeing people.”

I traced my fingers across his chest, making swirls and waves. “I like the idea of giving hope. That you can capture the world in such a way that even the ugly things look beautiful.”

The beauty in what was real.

He kissed my head and cleared his throat. “Now. About that blow job?”

I punched him again.

Then I gave him one.

Of course.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a light headache and my stomach grumbling. I hadn’t really eaten anything for the last few days. I had been basically fasting when I was in the jungle, only eating when I had the chance and coasting by on adrenaline the rest of the time, so now that I was back in California and still a pile of nerves, my appetite was slow to come back.

But when it did come back, it was back with a vengeance. As I rolled out of bed, careful not to wake Camden who was snoring lightly, I put my hand to my rumbling stomach and had a silly yet hopeful thought that perhaps I was already pregnant and this was my body telling me so.

I grabbed my robe and slipped it on, a cool, ocean breeze coming in through the open windows smelling of night-blooming Jasmine, and made my way downstairs to the kitchen. I popped two pieces of toast in the toaster, poured myself a glass of water and opened the drawer where I had stashed a bottle of Ibuprofen earlier in the day.

I shook two orange pills into my hand and raised it up to my mouth.

My eyes went to the kitchen window.

There was a man in the reflection.

Grinning.

Behind me.

Javier.

I opened my mouth to scream but he was fast and he grabbed me around the waist with one arm, his hand going over my mouth with the other. I dropped the pills to the floor where they clattered, praying that Camden could hear that but I didn’t think he could from where our bedroom was.

Javier pressed his hand hard into me and started bringing me backward, his hot breath at my neck. There was only one second where I felt a slice of relief that he was still alive. But that quickly vanished. Now I wanted him dead. I wanted Travis to have finished him off. I wanted my gun to have had one more bullet in it. Because, no matter what I thought of Javier before, I knew now that he was here for a terrible reason.

All bets were off.

No more promises.

I struggled, trying to kick out with my legs, to knock over a jar full of cooking spoons, hoping to cause more noise but it was impossible. Javier pulled me out of the kitchen, practically dragging me into the next room, the one-car garage we had.

Dark.

Small.

Practically soundproof.

Not good.

He managed to quietly close the door behind him, shutting us in the garage together, the smell of oil and dust assaulting me, as well as Javier’s distinctive musk which made the whole thing that much more terrifying. I breathed hard against his hand and he leaned back against the door, his arm around my stomach and legs growing tighter and tighter.

“Shhh,” he whispered in my ear, lips touching my lobe. “Shhhh, angel. Keep quiet. Calm down. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

That meant nothing anymore.

I could hear his lips against teeth, smiling. “So you think you could just leave me alone to die, yes?”

You left me, you sick son of a bitch. I wished there was light in the garage so I could see the closest weapon but there was nothing. It was completely pitch black. Dark as sin. And the only sound was my heart pounding and Javier’s breathing in my ear.

“This was after, of course, you pulled the trigger.” He sucked in his breath. “You know, angel, that really hurt me. That really changed … everything. You were the one person I thought wouldn’t betray me. And yet you tried to kill me. How do you think that made me feel? I lost my sister. And then I lost you.”

He suddenly took his hand away and put it at my neck, wrapping it around until I could feel the grooves he was creating. I gasped for air, to scream, but only pitiful sounds came out.

“To think I wasted …” I eked out, my face turning red, “tears on you.”

His grip tightened and he lifted me slightly off the ground, just for a moment, just to let me know he could hang me if he wanted. I couldn’t speak anymore. I couldn’t even get in one breath.

“And to think I wasted tears on you,” he snarled, suddenly malicious. He breathed sharply through his nose and I could tell he was pulling himself together. Trying to be calm. In control. Always in control. “But this is for the best. I can see that. We were never meant to be. You were never as strong as I thought you were. Such a shame though. You had such dirty wings. Such promise. Power makes the world go around, angel. It keeps you alive when you should be dead. Don’t you want that immortality? Or are you so happy with a boring, ordinary life? With a boring, ordinary man?”

I felt my heart slowing, the veins in my head about to burst. Then he slowly released his hand and gave me two seconds to wheeze and try and get the air back in before he covered up my mouth with his hand again. I fought against his palm but he held me hard while his other hand began to ease my robe aside.

I froze like a deer in headlights as his palm slid down my bare middle.

“You know I can give you what you need,” he murmured. “You know I always have. I can make you come just by touching you, even now.”

My eyes widened and his hand moved down between my legs, fingers going over my clit.

“Not very wet,” he remarked in a low, careful voice. “You must have missed me. Missed my touch.”

And he knew all the right places to touch, the right places to tease. Still, I felt nothing in my heart. And my body, my body only wanted to run and flee. I wanted to tear off my skin and burn it. He felt like a monster, a wicked reptile of cold leathery scales, a creature from my darkest dreams. He would not win me over here.

Perhaps if I let him think he did …

I relaxed into his touch, hoping I could feed his delusion. Not too much that he’d catch on. But just enough. I willed my breathing and my heart to slow and leaned slightly into him.

“That’s my angel,” he said, and I could feel his erection growing against my ass. His hand loosened on my mouth and I took the opportunity. I bit down hard on his hand and he yelped, letting go of me. I went for the door but he was at my side knocking me hard to the ground, my head banging against the cold concrete. Everything began to spin, stars and streams went around my head, and I lost precious seconds trying to get up.

By the time I struggled to get to my feet, my bad leg collapsing under me, I heard the shake of metal, the rip of duct tape. I screamed for Camden before Javier grabbed me by the hair at the top of my head and yanked me toward him, spinning me around and slamming my head against the door, his fingers finding my mouth. He stuck the duct tape across my lips.

“Camden can’t hear you now,” he whispered in the dark.

My heart sank at that. Had I been a fool to think that Javier was the only one in the house?

The light in the garage went on. Javier had one hand against it, the other gripped around my elbow. I eyed the shelves in the garage, spying a hammer and went for it but he dived into me and I went flying into them. Just before they toppled onto me he yanked me backward and out of the way and stuck a handcuff around one wrist.

What are you going to do with me? I tried to say through the tape but it came out all garbled.

Javier smiled. He understood perfectly. And I was able to get my first good look at him. He looked almost the same, maybe in a more expensive suit, all black, his hair shorter and neatly trimmed, showing off the streaks of grey that were threaded through it, and he had a shiny new gold watch on his wrist. He reeked of power and deceit. Of confidence.

I could only guess as to what that meant.

“Oh, you poor thing?” he said with mock sympathy. “You really think I came here for you?”

Quick as a whip he spun me around and stuck the other cuff around the passenger door handle of the Mini Cooper. I collapsed against the door, slumping to the ground.

He walked over to a camping cooler in the corner and pulled it out to me, scraping loudly on the cement. He took a seat on it like we were about to have a little chat and brought out a gun from his inner jacket pocket, looking it over in his hands. My eyes watched it fearfully. I was dumbstruck with complete and utter terror.

He looked up and frowned at me. “I told you angel, I’m not going to hurt you. I only came here to do a little business transaction.”