Money. If it’s about money then why am I here? My stomach hits bottom again. This is already bad, but it feels . . . worse. Or like worse is coming.
Slowly, I shift my knees under me, studying the room from the corners of my eyes. The furniture has been pushed close to the walls, leaving the four of us on the expansive, pale carpet. Ian is whimpering, Bay is swearing, and Jason looks like he would enjoy taking each of us apart.
I watch his hands. The dealer’s knuckles are so white I’m wondering how he can even feel the Taser—and that’s when I see something move outside the window. A shadow separates from the dark. I blink, blink again.
Not a shadow. A person.
It moves to the right. Not any person. Milo.
Relief turns my bones mushy.
Until Jason punches Ian. Once. Twice. Three times. The poor kid’s scream bubbles in his mouth, drowning on blood.
“Please, Dad.” Ian’s voice climbs higher, cracks. I cringe, eyes still on the window, praying for Milo to reappear. “Please!”
Next to me, Bay stiffens. “Stop sniveling!”
It makes Jason pause, fist raised. He looks at the judge with a smile meant for murder. “I remember that. I remember you saying that to her—”
“Who?” Bay’s scooting backward now, pressing into me.
“My mother,” Jason says. “You remember Tabitha, don’t you, Bay? You screwed her enough. You screwed her enough to get me.”
Underneath Jason, Ian makes a gagging noise of disbelief and horror. “Dad?”
“There’s no proof. She was unstable and whored around and there was never any proof—”
“I’m the proof!” Jason screams. “Remember me? The son you ignored? I’m the proof! You assholes just use people like us and throw us away. You did it with my mom. Your son did it with Lell.”
“He loved her,” Bay whispers. It’s so quiet none of us should have heard it. “Kyle shouldn’t have, but he did.”
“It wouldn’t have lasted.” Jason steps closer, leaning down so his face is only inches from Bay’s. “It never does for your kind. Did you enjoy being blackmailed? Did you enjoy being scared? Because I enjoyed doing it to you. I really did.”
Bay’s face goes purple. “You’ll never get a dime from me.”
Behind him, Ian pushes to his feet and sways. My heart leaps. If he’s going to fight, I’ll have to help. I’ll jump on Jason’s back or—
“Fuck this.” Ian wipes the blood from his face and pulls a Taser from the small of his back. “I’ve had enough of your hysterics. Let’s just kill him here and make it look like a robbery. I’ll inherit everything and you’ll get half, Baines.”
47
“You’re working with him?” The judge’s question slides into a howl.
“Surprise,” Ian breathes, and cocks his head like he heard something, feels something.
We all do.
First comes the pressure. It’s so dense I feel it in my head, my chest, my bones . . . then comes the sound—glass shattering, drywall cracking—and the explosion shoves me forward. I hit the floor, face-first, my skull full of white light.
So that’s where Milo went. Almost makes me smile.
Dimly, I’m aware of another explosion, a smaller one. Wait. Was it smaller? Or does it just feel smaller? My ears won’t stop ringing. It’s hard to breathe through the sudden smoke, but I haul ass anyway, grabbing for Bay.
He’s already gone.
Jason kicks off the floor, running after him. I spin the other way and someone grabs my ankle, taking me to my knees. Ian. I lash out with my foot, connect with something soft. I ram my heel into it again. And again.
My ankle breaks free. I run for it, sneakers crunching on bits of glass. If I can get into the back garden, I can loop around to the road. I can do this.
“Wicket!” Ian screams.
I run harder, shouldering open what’s left of the French doors and spilling onto the outside patio. My lungs burn. My eyes burn. I hit a wooden chaise lounge with both shins and crash to the ground.
Then I hear a siren wail. Cops.
It’s to my right. Toward the main road.
Fastest way to get to them is across the front lawn and down the driveway. I stab one hand under me and push myself upright, racing down the stairs, cutting across the side garden . . .
Stopping dead.
Ahead of me, two figures grapple on the front lawn. There’s a pop of light and a scream. Bay? Jason? I can’t tell. Someone goes down, thrashing. Shit. I’d have to get past them to get to the road. I won’t make it. That leaves . . .
The woods.
I could cut through the woods like I did before. If I run straight through, I could catch the cops on the other side. Between the underbrush and the darkness, I’d have coverage.
Of course, so would anyone else who’s out there.
Fuck it. I sprint for the trees.
I’m almost there when I hear a snarl behind me.
“Got you now, bitch.”
Ian.
I push myself, breaking through the trees with both arms outstretched. My feet hit the dead leaves and I have to force myself to count how many seconds pass before he joins me.
Three . . . four . . . five . . .