Page 105 of The Wicked
I sighed, grabbed the ID card from the table, and continued with my food.
The ride was quieter on our way back, and I felt pretty uncomfortable… he had barely said a word to me after everything Isaid about the boy. He seemed locked in his mind, and I wondered what was going through that head.
It wasn’t until after he pulled up at a shady motel that I leaned away from the window, looking over at him. “Why are you stopping here?”
He unbuckled his seatbelt, and I watched him grab the gun from the console, opening the chamber as he said, “You’re going to drive back to the compound alone.”
I stifled a yawn. “What are you talking about?”
He removed all the bullets, leaving just two inside. “You’ll drive back to the compound alone,” he repeated. “There’s something I have to do,” he said, finally meeting my confused gaze.
I frowned, looking out the window at the worn-out building. “What do you have to do here?”
“Nothing you should concern yourself with,” he said as I turned back to look at him. “I know you have no reason to help me do this, but when you get to the compound, please find Casmiro, tell him to go to my bedroom and check the floorboards in my wardrobe. I left something in there for him and Angelo.”
All the sleepiness slipped from my eyes, my senses alert. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He opened his side door, about to leave me there, but paused. “I can’t believe you’re the one I’m asking to do this… but—tell my brother I’m sorry and that I tried.”
“You tried what—”
He was already getting out of the car, closing the door behind him.
I sat alone in the humming vehicle for a few seconds, watching him walk around it towards the motel, wondering what the hell just happened.
Two bullets… obviously he’s going to kill someone… He wants me to deliver a message to Casmiro and tell Devil he’s sorry?
Two bullets… one for the person he wants to kill… whoever that is, and the other for…
Realization dawned like ice water down my spine, and I was dashing right out of the car after him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Zahra
“Hey, motherfucker!”
My voice rang out into the night as I rushed after him.
He stopped, shoulders slumping, head dropping as he turned with a glare.
I let out short, sharp, tired breaths, stopping right in front of his imposing figure, straightening my spine with determination even though my limbs begged for relief.
“If you have a message to pass to your underboss and brother, you do that shit yourself.” I led with that, my eyes dead set on him.
“It’s a simple task—”
“Do I look like a suicide note?” I was livid. I wanted to bash his head in. Anything to ease the fucking guilt lingering in the pit of my stomach. “We’re gonna get our asses back in that car, and you’re gonna drive us to the compound and deliver your fucking message yourself.”
He actually looked like he was considering it before shaking his head. “That will be inconvenient.”
I threw my hands up and dropped them down in frustration. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Drive back to the compound, and just do as you’re told for once.”
“Like hell I will,” I said, baffled at what was happening. “You’re crazy if you think I’ll leave you here after your little speech in the car.”
With his hand that held the gun, he moved to rub his brows, closing his eyes for a second as he shook his head before openinghis eyes and pinning me with a glower that had me stepping back a little.
