Page 38 of Lethal Deceit

I freeze. Is she talking to me?

“Just leave me alone,” she mumbles.

The idea that she’s that afraid of me curls inside me like toxic smoke. “Wake up. You’re just dreaming.”

No response. Her eyes are still closed, and she’s squirming as if she’s in pain.

I edge closer. “Samantha, wake up.”

Her eyelids flicker, and she lets out a whimper that rips into my chest.

Not wanting to scare her, I open the bathroom door wider so more light spills into the room, then I perch on the edge of the bed. I reach out and gently tap her shoulder. “Samantha. Wake up.”

Her eyes fly open, surprising me so much I instinctively shift my weapon so she can’t reach it.

She bolts upright, rips the eye mask off her face, and grabs my arms. “Don’t let them hurt me,” she chokes out.

I say the first thing that comes to mind. “No one is going to hurt you. Not while you’re with me.”

And Heaven help me, I mean it.

Nine

Samantha

You’re a natural, Samantha. A pretty little chameleon. But you need to grow up and stop waiting for someone to come and save you.

I wake with the words on my lips and immediately recognize them as Mona’s first words to me. Words she repeated daily until it became like a mantra.

Grow up. Stop waiting to be saved.

Her warning is precisely why I don’t rely on anyone but myself and why I have my insurance policy hidden in the bathroom.

The bathroom. Right.

My eyes snap open as the events of the day before become clearer in my mind.

Him.

Mick.

I’m here with him.

And he saved my life.

But he didn’t save me.

I’m still in deep, deep trouble. Just like Mona said.

Eyes still blurry, I squint across the room to where he pushed his half of the bed. He’s flat on his back, lying on top of the covers, fully dressed, still armed, and snoring lightly. I have no idea what time it is, only that there’s a little grayish light mingling with the artificial light from the bathroom.

With my eyes shifting from him to my bag, I ease out of bed and tiptoe across the room. I slip my hand into the side pocket and pull out my burner phone to see if it’s still working after being submerged in water. Scanning quickly, I check the relevant information. It’s just gone six a.m. Half the battery is remaining, and the signal is strong.

All of that information is useless when I have no one to call.

Even though I didn’t expect to see any texts or messages from Mona, I feel a jab of pain at the confirmation she hasn’t checked in to see if I made it to Cuba. For a while after she “adopted” me, she’d routinely text on the phone she gave me. At first I thought it was because she was worried, but by the time I reached puberty, I’d wised up.

To her, I was a walking investment. Nothing more. Nothing less.

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