Page 84 of Darcy
Darcy’s eyes narrow. “I got Sully out of there, didn’t I? You don’t think that was really the cops? No. That was all me. You’re. Freaking. Welcome.”
She takes a deep, shuddering breath, and for the first time, I notice how exhausted she looks. Then she jumps a foot in the air as Prophet starts on her neck.
“Stay still,” he growls, answering her glare with one of his own.
Her eyes flash to his, and a moment of understanding passes between them.
“I have no idea when my next shot at them will be,” she continues, glancing away. “Which means we should continue to stay away from one another. But it’s become clear I need your cooperation if we’re to avoid anyone else getting hurt.” She waves her hand at the pile of wires. “Your phones are bugged. Your rooms are under surveillance. You have no idea how much footage they had before I corrupted the files, and now that Miguel has a closer eye on you, that’s going to get worse. I can’t keep corrupting videos without raising his suspicions.”
My disbelief that Darcy—of all people—could be an assassin, flickers and fades with the pile of evidence on the table. This is either some really elaborate hoax or…
The truth.
I find the idea of Miguel spying on us easier to swallow than the idea of Darcy being an assassin. That fucker. Bugs in our phones? My hands curl into fists, thinking of all the times Darcy and I had phone sex. Was he listening in? Getting off? Wait… footage? I glance at her, trying to figure out how much footage there was.
If that asshole watched the two of us, I’ll wring his damn neck.
“We were going to turn ourselves in,” Arlo mutters. “Sully was supposed to be gathering evidence to put them away while we took a plea bargain.”
Darcy’s brows furrow as she takes in the news. “That’s unnecessary. By the time I’m done, Miguel will have left the entire agency to you in a verified and witnessed will. He’ll even have ended your contract without penalty. The money from his brothers—after I’ve taken my cut—will be split between good causes. You’ll be free to continue your careers with a less toxic agency, or reform his.”
“And you?” I ask, “What happens to you?”
Her nose tilts up. “You broke up with me. I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”
She’s right. I know she is. It remains the absolute worst decision I ever had to make.
“Baby girl,” I begin, but she looks away sharply. “We did it to keep you out of this…”
“Anyway,” she continues, ignoring my feeble excuse. “There are burner phones for all of you over there.” She tilts her head in the direction of the other table, and I notice four boxes waiting. “The numbers are listed as Sully’s emergency contacts… I didn’t know if he had any family…”
Arlo shakes his head. “He never had kids. Said we gave him enough trouble.”
We all knew that was a lie. Sully bounced around the foster system. Unlike so many others, his wasn’t a negative experience, but after seeing what broken homes and absentee dads did to some of the kids, he never felt like settling down and having a family of his own. Eventually, life on the road and a bachelor lifestyle simply meant he adopted everyone he came across, us included.
“Well, they’ll call you if anything changes. You could go and visit before your flight in the morning, but I’d recommend against it. You don’t want to draw the cartel’s attention to the fact that they didn’t get their kill.”
“What are his chances?” Slate asks, cutting straight to the point.
She sighs, fidgeting. “They’ve got him stable. He’s not ‘actively dying.’ Recovery is going to be hell, but I think hewillrecover… to a degree. With burns, the risk of contractures is high, and that could limit his movement. Not to mention the effect of the smoke on his lungs, and—”
“Bet he’ll be pissed if his moustache has been burned off,” I mutter, almost laughing in relief at the random thought.
Prophet drops the cloth into the water for the final time, running it over the dirt on her lower arm, only for her to hiss.
“Stay still,” he orders, putting the cloth down. “You’ve burned yourself.”
Darcy barely spares it a glance. “Not the first time.”
Prophet is already in the first aid kit, pulling out sterile wipes and gently cleaning the area before slathering it in ointment.
It’s not a bad burn, but it’s still painful to see it marring her skin.
The second he’s done, she stands, pulling out of Arlo’s hold. “I need a shower, so I’m leaving. I just came to tell you Sully was alive and to stay out of my way next time.”
Slate catches her unburnt arm. “Cariño, we need to talk.”
Darcy takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I knew what you were up to when you broke up with me.” Her shoulders straighten, like she’s preparing for battle. “You still hurt me, Slate. You knew exactly what breaking up with me like that would do to me, and you did it anyway.”
