Page 76 of My Addiction
He smiles, but there’s nothing friendly in it.
“How much do you think they’ll pay to get one of their precious sons back?”
I blink at him once. Twice. For a second, I’m not even sure if he’s asking a rhetorical question or if he genuinely expects me to give him a number.
“We need to get moving,” Ezra says. There’s a tremor in his voice now. A nervous edge that wasn’t there a second ago. Moses is using him for muscle, but he’s a weak link in the plan.
“No.”
I widen my stance slightly, grounding myself while I watch Ezra’s hand tighten around the gun. He’s nervous, too nervous. And nervous people make mistakes. Unfortunately, they also shoot people. And by my calculations, I’m about to be shot.
“You think you have a choice?” Moses snaps. “Did you miss the fact that there’s a gun pointed at you?”
I don’t answer. I already know exactly how bad this is.
“You will do as you’re told,” he says. “Now get in the car.” He points toward my car like he’s already won.
“I need to get my keys from my pocket,” I say evenly. “Tell Twitchy over there not to get trigger happy. I’m not worth much to you dead.”
The knife is in the same pocket as my keys. Quick-release blade. Four-point-six seconds to deploy and hit a target from ten feet away. Ezra is less than six. The problem is that even four-point-six seconds is slower than a nervous finger on a trigger. I start lowering my right hand slowly.
“Keep your hands up,” Moses says. “I’ll get the keys. Wouldn’t want you trying anything.”
I have to fight not to laugh. He’s going to walk right into my reach. As complicated as his business structure is, I expected him to be smarter than this. Instead, he steps closer with that same smug look on his face.
Four feet.
Three.
The second he gets within reach, I move. I pivot hard to the right, grab a fistful of his shirt, and yank him off balance before spinning him around. He isn’t ready for it.
The gunshot echoes through the parking garage a split second later, so loud in the enclosed space that it feels like it rattles my teeth. Then comes the burn. Hot and sharp along my side, like someone dragged fire across my skin. I’m hit. The thought registers, but I shove it aside.
Moses starts fighting immediately, twisting and throwing his weight around, but he’s too late. I drag him back against my chest and lock my arm around his throat, using him as a shield while we both face Ezra. Ezra’s eyes go wide. The gun wavers in his hand.
“You going to take another shot?” I ask, my voice rougher than I want it to be. I tighten my hold on Moses just enough to make him choke. “Because chances are high you hit your precious prophet instead.”
“Let him go,” Ezra says, his voice cracking around the words.
“No.”
I tighten my arm around Moses’s throat until he makes a strangled sound. He keeps fighting, clawing at my forearm, throwing his weight around, but I’m locked in too deep for him to get free. His back is pinned hard against my chest, my arm tight around his neck, and I can feel the panic starting to set in beneath all his anger. Good. He should be afraid.
The uncertainty on Ezra’s face is almost painful to watch. He looks at Moses like he’s waiting for instructions, but Moses can’t give them. Not with the way I’m cutting off his air.
“What’s the next move, Ezra?” I ask.
Moses jerks harder against me, but I only tighten my hold.
“In the next ten seconds, he’s going to lose consciousness. A few minutes after that, he’s going to stop breathing.” My voice stays calm, even though I can feel blood running warm down my side. “And then you’ll be standing there with a gun while I’m holding a dead man.”
I squeeze harder. Moses’s movements start to weaken. I keep my eyes on Ezra the entire time. I see the exact second he makes his decision. He should run. Every survival instinct he has should be telling him to turn around and get the hell out of here. But his loyalty to the man I’m choking is apparently stronger than his self-preservation.
He starts toward me with the gun still raised. Then he lets out some kind of war cry. What the fuck? Is that supposed to be intimidating? Because it mostly just sounds ridiculous. He closes another step of distance, and then a deafening boom cuts through the garage. Ezra jerks. His body stops moving forward so suddenly that it almost looks unnatural. For a second, he just stands there. Then he crumples to the ground.
Liam stands a few feet away, sliding his gun back into his belt like he didn’t just shoot someone.
“Do you think you can explain to Ollie that I saved your life?” he asks. “Maybe then he’ll stop throwing shit at me.”
