Page 94 of The Woman in the Hollow
Had he been setting me up? That noise I heard that I thought might be someone, but convinced myself otherwise, had I been right? Had there been someone in the woods with me that night? Watching? Waiting? If I’d been slower, would they have made me suffer the same fate? Or worse, torture me before killing me?
I stared at that face that I considered familiar, only to realize I’d literally never seen him without his face heavily painted. He’d shown up to his job interview all decked out. I’d been charmed, remembering what my mom and grandmother used to say about dressing for the job you wanted, not the one you had. I loved his commitment to the bit.
Now, though, I realized that I might not be able to point him out in a lineup. Or, more likely, describe him to Dante.
Was the name or address on his form even real? The cell phone was, since I’d called him on it. But even I knew how easily you could pick up and activate a burner phone. I’d needed to do it once when my cell broke and I’d been just six weeks away from my upgrade date.
He could easily be some sort of plant, or spy, or enemy of the Grassi Family.
And I’d hired him.
I’d invited him in.
“Don’t move,” Ant said, voice stretched taut, a sound I’d never heard before.
I felt myself stiffen.
Don’t move?
Like hell.
I was going to run for my goddamn life. Again.
Or so I thought.
Until I felt a figure move in behind me.
Until I felt something cold and sharp press into the delicate skin of my neck.
Unwanted, my mind flashed back to just the night before, to Dante’s lips just there, to the way the touch brought butterflies.
It was a sick sinking in my stomach then as I recognized the knife, how close it was to being able to end me. It wouldn’t even need much pressure.
“Don’t move,” Ant said, his gaze holding mine.
There was something fierce in his eyes then, something mature beyond his years.
My own eyes felt like saucers as my heartbeat flickered, as sweat pricked my neck and slid down my spine.
“Let her go,” Ant said, his gaze on me but speaking to the man standing behind my shoulder.
“Don’t think I will,” the man said, his arm slipping around my middle, tightening, yanking me back against him. The movement made the knife nip into my skin. The burn told me he’d broken the skin. But it was impossible for me to tell if the warm trickle I felt was blood or sweat. “You got bad timing,” he added. “Now you gotta die.”
“That’s fine,” Ant said, his gaze flicking away from mine to look at my attacker. “Take me. Leave her.”
I wanted to object.
He was just a kid, for God’s sake.
But my tongue was fat and useless in my mouth.
“Can’t do that. I need her. I don’t need you.”
“Whatever you need her for, you can use me for.”
“Afraid I can’t. You’re not fucking the boss man.”
My brows pinched at that.
