Shooting Scars (The Artists Trilogy #2)

His face remained frozen except for one brow that rose.

“And, well, I was wondering if you had it in your heart to let me go,” I went on. This was a long shot, playing to a man’s sense of decency and morality. As if he’d chose that over going against Javier’s orders.

As I expected he shook his head ever so slightly. His focus was at least on me. I chose that moment to scratch behind my ear with my free hand and let go of a quarter I’d kept hidden in my fingers. It was like a magic trick gone wrong, but the point was that he wasn’t expecting a shiny quarter to fall out from behind my ear and clank down on the floor. His eyes followed it and before they had a chance to look back up at me, I’d raised the pestle and smashed it down into his temple. The sweet spot.

He cried out, much louder than I was expecting and grabbed his head. I saw a flash of red but didn’t have time to dwell on it. I pushed him down and to the side and then jumped up onto the balcony railing. Without hesitating I leaped down, falling a whole story but landing with a clump onto the soft sand below. A sharp pang shot up from my left ankle, my weakest one, but I ignored it and started running.

At first it felt like quicksand, like one of those horrible dreams where you’re trying to run but can’t. Only this was no dream. I made it as far as the property edge where a row of flax separated Javier’s property from the neighbors, flax I’d once planted because it looked tropical and pretty, when I was tackled from behind.

I face-planted into the sand as arms went around my legs and brought me down. I kicked out, trying to hit the assailant but it was too late. The person was now straddling me across my waist, preventing me from flipping over or fighting. I bucked, I tried, but they were too strong.

I violently turned my head, cheek burning against the grains of sand and peered up. His face was in shadows caused by the setting sun behind him, but I knew it was Javier. … and he was smiling. I could always see that flash of white teeth.

“Get the fuck off me,” I said, sand coating my lips as I spoke against it.

“I don’t think so.” He sounded smug in his simplicity.

“What were you doing, waiting for me to run?”

“Yes,” he said with a cock of his head. “I wanted to see if you’d learned anything.”

I tried to move again, to throw him off with surprise, but his legs were like steel.

“I learned that your chances of escaping diminishes quickly after the first twenty-four hours of kidnapping,” I told him with a grunt.

“I heard what you said to Felipe. You think this is kidnapping?”

I glared at him with the one eye. “You are so fucking delusional.”

“Oh, I believe you are the delusional one, my angel. I never threatened you with force. You didn’t have to come with me into the car. You chose me, Ellie. You chose to leave him and his lovely family. This was your choice.”

“Then let me go,” I spat out. “You don’t need me.”

“Of course I need you. Please tell me you didn’t spend the whole day trying to think of silly little ways of escaping instead of giving me an answer.”

I ignored him and his mind-reading ways. “Let me go, Javier. If you’re not keeping me here by force, then you’ll get the fuck up and let me walk away.” My voice shook a little.

He grew silent and I could hear nothing except the waves and hushed Spanish in the distance. It sounded like his henchmen, somewhere nearby watching the scene, keeping an eye on their boss to see what he was going to do next.

What he did do next surprised me if not them. He cleared his throat and said, “Fine.”

Then he got to his feet and stepped away, dusting the front of his pant legs and adjusting his suit jacket. Same scuffed wingtips as earlier. He waved out his arm toward the street, as if highlighting the way to go.

“You are free to go, Ellie Watt. I cannot keep you here if you don’t want to be here. I thought you were someone else. I suppose I was mistaken. Even I can make mistakes.”

I wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing but I wasn’t going to waste an opportunity. I snapped up to my feet as quickly as I could and stood across from him, a little unsteady.

He pointed at me, letting his finger trail up and down my body. “You’re wearing a lot of sand.”

I glanced down. I looked like icing powder exploded all over my jeans and t-shirt. I didn’t care.

“So I can just go,” I said warily. This stunk to high heaven.

He nodded gravely. “I brought you here because I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“You thought I was going to do you a favor,” I corrected him.

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