Page 149 of Nest of Thieves
“To waste your talent.”
I pinch my eyebrows together. “What do you mean, waste it?”
“Kneel,” he commands, gesturing toward the floor.
My fingers itch to pull the gun I tucked into the back of my pants, but I have to wait for the right moment. I drop to my knees, wincing when small shards of glass dig into my skin through my pants. Damien pats my head and walks behind me.
“You’ve done so well.” The barrel of a gun presses into the back of my head. “But it’s time for you to say goodnight.” The safety clicks off. “Sleep well, Kitty.”
I throw my elbow into his crotch moments before he fires. Pain rocks through me, and I scream, catching myself on my hands. Damien wheezes.
“You. Little. Bitch.”
I push through the agony and spin around. Our gazes collide. Everything turns to slow motion. He lifts his hand, pointing the gun. I lunge.
Bang.
thirty-eight
MAC
“Oh, fuck,” I groan, rolling over and pushing off the ground with one hand. My head and vision swim. Clutching my head, I wait out the dizzy spell until I feel stable enough to try and stand. Vette and Lark are still passed out.
“Kitten,” I call. “We didn’t agree to sedatives.” My first attempt to stand fails, and I laugh, trying again but using the counter to help me this time. “Jo!” The fake blood covering my shirt is sticky and reeks.
Jo doesn’t answer.
Why isn’t she responding?
“Jo?” I call again, rubbing the spot over my heart. The fake knife she slammed into me left a nasty bruise. “Come on, Jo. Stop fucking around. We’re done pretending now.”
Nothing.
My blood runs cold. Something is wrong. Keeping my hand on the counter, I move around the island, stopping short when I see Damien on the floor. Blood pools around his head, but that’s not what makes my heart freeze in terror. A trail of blood covers the tile, leading out of the room.
“Jo?” I call again, shoving off the island and stumbling out of the kitchen. I crash into the wall with a grunt.
The front door is wide open, and the blood leads that way.
“Mac?”
“Something’s happened,” I shout.
“Mande?”What?
“Get the fuck up,” I yell at them, finding my footing and jogging toward the front door with punch-drunk steps. Why did she drug us? We had a plan, but she lied about the sedatives.
There’s so much blood. So much red. Too much.
“Jo.” My hoarse voice carries out of the house. The sun is set, but the outside lights are on, illuminating the porch.
“Oh shit,” Lark says from behind me.
“Where’s Jo?” Vette asks.
Lifeless. Slack. Dead?
Oh, Kitten.
