Page 91 of Defending You
Asher stood in the middle of the road and replayed what had happened. The sedan had been behind them. The truck had been waiting for them, parked in the intersection of the narrow road Cici’d found…
Wait.
Cici had been looking at a map. On a phone.
He turned a slow circle. She must’ve dropped it…somewhere.
Slowly, he retraced his steps, gaze scanning the forest floor. He remembered how she’d gripped his shirt, her arm tight around his left side. Meaning, she’d had the phone in her right hand.
He focused his search to the right of the bike’s tire tracks. It must’ve flown out of her hand. Itmustbe here.
Please, God, let it be here.
Because if he couldn’t find that phone, then…then he had no idea what he’d do next.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The silence in the warehouse office was suffocating, broken only by the incessant buzz of fluorescent lights that cast harsh shadows, making everything look like a crime scene. Which, Cici supposed, itwouldbe soon enough.
She sat on the floor with her back pressed against a filing cabinet, trying to make herself as small as possible. Souza had zip-tied her wrists together and bound them to the handle of a file cabinet, his fingersaccidentallyskimming her body. The chill she’d felt had nothing to do with the cold concrete floor.
Now he stood near the door. Gagnon still leaned against the desk. They weren’t talking, hadn’t spoken since the other two men left to search for the velvet bag. The tension between them crackled like a live wire, dangerous and unpredictable. Whatever relationship they had, it wasn’t built on trust or friendship. More like mutual necessity. One dangerous man using the other until he proved more useful dead than alive.
Every time she lifted her eyes from the floor, she caught Souza watching her. Not with disdain or clinical assessment. This was darker, hungrier. The way his gaze traveled over her body made her want to crawl under the nearest desk. There washatred there, yes, but also something that turned her blood to ice. The look of a predator stalking its prey.
She forced herself to focus on something else. Anything else.
Letting her mind drift back to the jewelry store, she saw the situation more clearly. She should have run the moment she saw Mr. D collapse. Should have dropped the velvet bag and fled empty-handed out the back door. But no. She’d clutched those jewels like they were her ticket to glory. Until now, she’d never realized how desperately she wanted to be seen as more than just the irrelevant, unimportant Wright sister.
The irony wasn’t lost on her. She’d wanted to be a hero, like Brooklynn, who’d helped solve a decades-old cold case. Like Alyssa, who’d saved a child’s life—and played a part in taking down a terrorist. Cici had wanted to prove to her father that she could do something important, earn more from him than disdain and anger.
Instead, she’d gotten Asher killed.
The realization stole her breath.
If she’d just left the jewelry behind, maybe Gagnon wouldn’t have bothered tracking her at all. Maybe he would’ve figured out who she was and tried to buy her silence. That was more his style. She wouldn’t have taken his money, of course, but he might have tried negotiation before murder. Even if hehadtracked her down, at least Asher wouldn’t have been involved.
But no. Cici had to be the hero. She’d taken the bag, made herself a target because she’d been desperate to return Forbes’s jewelry to him, to do something that mattered.
She pressed her face against her knees, giving in to her tears. She’d pretended she wasn’t lonely as each of her cousins married and started families, and now two of her sisters were in long-term relationships. All the while, she’d been alone.
Now she understood why. She was no hero, and she was a fool to ever have believed she could do something important.
“Where are they?” Gagnon’s words shocked her back to the moment. “How long does it take to find a bag?”
“Is the thing live?”
Gagnon tapped on his phone, then shook his head. “Those idiots went the wrong way.”
What were they talking about? Was he tracking his own men?
Souza shifted his weight, his jaw tightening.
“The accident site is ten minutes from here.” Gagnon’s tone carried a sharp edge of impatience. “They’ve been gone almost an hour. What are they doing?”
“How’m I supposed to know? I’m stuck here with you.”
“They’re your men.”
