Page 29 of Forbidden Eyes
Still, the man I'm hiding behind is like stone while I start frantically grabbing for his jacket. He doesn’t move as he weighs up the situation we're in because of me. His eyes flick around, his hand going to his jacket slowly for something. It's a knife—a knife!I watch him hold it out behind him, protecting me, or maybe us, from all angles, as if this is perfectly normal for him.
“Last warning,” Carter states, as calmly as if he’s ordering a drink. "You're beginning to wake me up, Chelico." His head slowly moves back and forth between the men around us, his gun moving to cover all threats.
“Easy, Carter. You can walk away. Nobody will know, and we can forget about the missing drugs. I might have read the paperwork wrong.” The creep grins, showing a gold tooth.
“Please don’t let them take me,” I whisper, my fingers pressed tightly against the fine fabric of Carter’s suit. My eyes shut against his back, hoping he’s the only one who can hear me.
Right now, I feel like a child compared to his cool demeanour, but I can’t resent that. It might be the only thing that lets us walk out of this.
There’s the smallest of movements from him; it might not even be movement at all, rather my mind telling me he’s answered me, but I take it as acknowledgement that he heard me at least.
“One chance, Chelico. One. You back the fuck up. Let us leave quietly, and maybe I won’t end this meeting in the way I know best.” Carter's voice seems so bland. Passionless. Devoid of any warmth or care. “I’d say the first option is better for you all round, because I guarantee you won’t like the other one that's coming for you.”
The guy laughs, a cruel cackle that has bile rising in my throat at the thought of where this may end up. Before I can squeeze Carter’s hand, hoping perhaps to salvage something of my stupidity, he moves. The gun trains on Pierre, and a dull ping from the silencer whizzes through the air. He drops in front of us, and before I can blink, Carter pivots, keeping me behind him, and throws his knife at one of them. It's all so quick, so unimaginable. His gun keeps shooting, again and again, until everyone's on the floor.
The women in the room stare. I thought there would be screaming, but they simply stop and watch. Carter looks around him at the bodies, closing in on the one with a knife stuck into his neck. I can't breathe. I’m surrounded by dead men, and one coughing and spluttering blood from his mouth. I retch, unable to process what just happened, as I watch Carter lift the knife out slightly and then slit it along the jugular.
My hands go to my mouth, sickness, shock and fear climbing up my throat. And then Carter has his hand in mine, pulling me after him without a word.
“You don’t say anything. Don’t even open your goddamned mouth, got it?”
I nod, not even wanting to ignore his command in order to acknowledge it. I’m hauled in the direction of the door, feet tumbling to keep up in my heels, but I can’t help but look back. Bodies lie crumpled on the floor, blood seeping from wounds because of my outburst. Nausea turns in my stomach, and my breathing quickens, dragging in short, shallow breaths as I wrap my mind around what's happened.
Carter shoves me into the SUV and slams the door. Silence presses down on me from all directions, like the door to the car has shut out the rest of the world. Drugs, guns, death—things I should have no business with, but here I am, involved in every way I can be.
I look around and expect Carter to be climbing into the car with me, but he’s just standing there,staring around the lot as if he's searching for something. His eyes are narrowed, a look of hatred engrained on his face. I watch him for a second,unsure what he's doing, until he eventually storms off back towards where we just left, leaving me alone. The same panic that gripped me in that building returns, and I feel like I’m a sitting target, just waiting for the next predator to come and catch me.
Mental images of what just happened—Carter with a gun, the bodies just discarded on the floor—invade my mind. I try to block them out and focus on the hundreds of training sessions I was given in self-defence when I was growing up. It was non-negotiable. First by Torino, and then other instructors. Thinking about it now, it makes perfect sense. Dad wanted me to be protected from the world he lived in. The world he polluted every day with his own version of poison.
Thinking back to my training forces me to concentrate on my breathing and pull it under control. I’m no good to myself if I’m a bunch of jittery nerves. I might as well hand myself to the nearest drug dealer in my current state.
After a while, a car starts rumbling its way towards me, and I sink into the darkness so I can’t be seen. I don't know what to do, but Carter should know. What if it's more of the bad men? I'm about to move, perhaps try to warn him wherever he is, when I see him stride back through my eyeline outside again, still looking furious. He meets the car, aggression all over his face, and points back to the warehouse. Three men get out, all of them looking just as nefarious as the dead guys inside, and they make their way into the building with him until I'm alone again. He didn't even look at me.
Alone. That's how I feel.
Losing it won’t help, so I close my eyes and try to calm my pounding heart. I’m safe now. Alone, but safe. I try to use the quiet time to think clearly and wait for him to deal with what's happened. It's all too much,though. All of it. I don't even know how to manage this in my head, let alone how to calm myself down.
The door opens suddenly, breaking me of my inner turmoil, and a gust of cool air invades the space. I turn to look at Carter, but before I register who it is, I’m yanked from the seat, my feet stumbling to gain purchase on the ground. Rough hands pull me along as my feet fight to right themselves.
“Carter!” I scream, as my hands battle with the stranger’s grip on me. “Stop, let me go.”
He doesn’t loosen his hold but fists a bunch of my hair to keep me still, dragging me further along towards a waiting car. Panic flashes over my body as I start to see what’s happening. “You can’t do this,” I grit out, as I tussle back and forth.
“Quiet, little girl. You’re worth a lot more than the drugs we lost tonight. You might pay for the loss of his son.” What son? The man hauls me into the waiting car. My legs kick out and I wrestle to stay out of the vehicle, but another man inside helps to keep me from breaking free.
If they think I’ll go quietly, they have another thing coming. I scamper across the back seat as the man gets in and speeds away, and my hand works the door handle. There’s no release, and as the seconds tick past I mentally go over what I can do. The confined space won’t help me, but all I need is a weight advantage, maybe with the right turn of the car, and then to distract the driver enough. Maybe.
The car swerves, and I fall back against my assailant. My elbow connects with his windpipe, but the car turns the other way and then I feel his weight on top of me.
“Quit messing around, bitch. Save that for later,” he jeers, wrapping his hand around my throat. An evil smile cracks over his face and turns my stomach. I won’t go there. I can’t.
I force my knee vertically and connect with the man’s thigh. I try again, pulling my leg tighter to me and hit softer flesh, winding him. His grip relaxes and I pull out from under him. It’s too cramped, and the driver isn’t being cautious with his driving. He’s in a hurry. My eyes glance around and I see a dark SUV following in the distance. It’s being driven as impatiently and erratically as this one and I let myself believe that it could be Carter. He wouldn’t leave me, not after how he reacted in the warehouse. If he even knows I’ve been taken.
All I need to do is get out of this car.
Minutes tick past and I’m happy to play the willing victim. There won’t be many chances if this is going to work so I must bide my time. I close my eyes and think of Torino and everything he taught me. Putting my training into practice was always the last thing on my mind, and despite how reassured I should feel, my confidence is disappearing like grains of sand in the wind.
I can’t stop glancing out the back to see if we’re still being followed; that hope is still there and willing me to fight.