Page 16 of Kings & Carnage

And it didn’t matter anyway. There was only one thought in my head, only one thing that mattered.

Willa had been hurt on my watch.

I didn’t bother saying it out loud. Drago would tell me not to be dumb, Neo would tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself, and Willa would rush to explain all the reasons it wasn’t my fault she was covered in cuts and bruises.

None of it would change the fact that she’d been with me when the car rolled, when Roberto’s men shot at us. If some random driver hadn’t stopped when the car rolled, forcing Roberto’s men to take off, Willa would be dead.

I couldn’t think about it without wanting to scream.

She’d moved to the backseat, and I looked over at her, the bruises on her pretty face visible even in the shadowed interior of the car. Nothing felt more important than keeping her safe.

And I’d failed.

“Are you sure it’s safe to stop?” Willa asked, eying the busy parking lot, teeming with long-haul truck drivers and tourists on road trips. A series of massive semitrucks with attached cargo trailers were lined up on one side of the parking lot, some of them idling, others dark, their drivers either asleep inside or stretching their legs and grabbing food from the mini-mart or diner.

“Definesafe,” Drago said, cutting the engine.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Any environment where Roberto’s men aren’t going to show up shooting?”

“No guarantees,” Drago said, “but unlikely. We left the hospital ahead of them and have been off all the major roads. I haven’t spotted a tail, and there were plenty of stretches where I would have.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll go in, get us some clothes, then we can all go grab food and stuff.”

“We’ll all go,” I said. I wasn’t about to let her out of my sight.

She tipped her head like I was short a few screws. “Seriously?”

“What?” I asked.

“Look at us,” she said. “We’re in scrubs, Neo and Oscar don’t have shoes, and we’re totally beat up. If we all go in, someone’s going to call the police.”

She had a point, and I fought against the burst of maniacal laughter that threatened to explode from my throat. I’d been in a lot of weird situations — in the States and in Sicily working for the family — but none of them came close to sitting in the darkened Impala with three of the four people I cared about most (I needed to contact Sophia, check in, make sure my little sis was safe), all of us in stolen scrubs, debating the merits of a late-night shopping trip in a truck stop in the middle of nowhere.

“I’ll go then,” I said.

Neo rolled his eyes. “You’re the last person who should go. You shouldn’t even be walking around. What if you pass out or something? We won’t be around to get you out of there. Drago should go.”

“Why Oscar?” Willa asked.

“Because I scare the fuck out of people even when I’m not trying,” Neo said. "And everyone will think you need help. Plus, no fucking way I’m letting you go in there alone.”

“Seconded,” I said.

“Thirded,” Drago said, then added, “Is thirded a word?” He looked up, like he was trying to figure out the answer, then shrugged and twisted in the driver’s seat to look at Rock. “I’ll go. Give me your credit card.”

“If we use credit, they’ll be able to track us,” Willa said.

“Not for a while,” Neo said. “And we don’t have a choice right now. We need to get clothes and food, switch cars and plates, and find a place to regroup.”

“He’s right,” I said. “By the time Roberto’s men track my card — if they even bother — we’ll be long gone. Once I get inside, I’ll use the Wi-Fi to access our offshore accounts and have money transferred to the numbered account in Aruba.”

Willa shook her head. “Wait, you have… offshore accounts?”

Drago held out his hand for my credit card. “We’ve been preparing for this for a long time, tiger. We just didn’t count on having our hideaway compromised.”

“I’m sorry,” Willa said, misery written all over her face.

I reached for her hand. “Stop apologizing. Nobody blames you. We just need some time to figure things out. Money will help us do that.”

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