Page 117 of Intent to Kill
Self-control. Self-control. Self-control.
“Apparently Blake’s been saying that the people who are after him are going to pay,” Paul said.
“What else is new.” Adam rolled his eyes.
Paul had really called him away for this? Fucking cock-blockers. All of his friends.
“I’m serious, Adam. Blake said if he couldn’t find the people after him, he’d make do with hurting the ones they’d left vulnerable.”
“What? He’s saying we left people vulnerable?” Adam pushed the phone hard against his ear, struggling to hear over the rain and the crackling phone line.
Mercedes tapped his shoulder, gesturing to where Tia had arrived. Over the road she stood on an open street corner, illuminated by blazing white lights.
“He said that we’re hiding, but selfishly leaving the people who support us out in the open,” Paul said.
Mercedes stepped out of the booth and waved at Tia across the road.
Adam continued pressing his face to the phone. His attention torn between Paul’s words and the small steps that Mercedes made onto the street.
The line continued to crack as Adam’s mind darted between leaning in to listen and watching Mercedes approach the road.
Then, like a slap in the face it hit him. He dropped the phone from his hands, Paul’s voice just a buzz.
Tia stood willing and waiting. Out in the open. Vulnerable. Alone. The only one who didn’t have their identity hidden.
Blake couldn’t be sure that Dan, Carlos, and Paul were involved. He had no idea about Mercedes. No idea about Adam. But Tia...
It was well known that she was the leader of the call girls. It was well known that the call girls no longer harkened to Blake. Her involvement could not be denied. Could not be manipulated away. And there she stood, like a beacon on the road. So stupidly obvious that she might as well have had a fucking neon arrow pointing at her head.
The next movements were too fast, but at the same time, painfully slow.
Screeching tires. He whipped his head to the right, his damp hair splashing. A darkened black van was approaching at high speed.
Fumbling over himself, Adam rushed from the phone booth and launched for the street. Mere seconds after him, both Mercedes and Tia flashed their eyes to the van. Speeding something crazy, whipping water off the road and sliding along with the rain.
Adam saw Mercedes’ shoulders heave, like she was holding in her breath.
At the exact moment that Adam reached Mercedes’ side, the van came to a crushing halt in front of Tia.
They all seemed to notice it at the same time, a thick black rifle tip pointing out of the van’s darkened window.
But it was Tia’s eyes that Adam stuck to, drawing him down like quicksand.
He couldn’t look away as she looked to the van and back to him. Her body tightened, but she stood up straighter, and there were infinite seconds where time stood still, each blink drawn out in slow, desperate movements.
There was so much behind her face, cheeks tightening together in anticipation of a pain that had yet to arrive. Her lips pushed in a tight line, like she was bracing for a fate she had never wanted, but knew was about to claim her anyway.
It wasn’t the gunshots that Adam saw first, but rather Tia’s shaking shoulders as bullets crashed at her chest. Once, twice, and a final third time. Like a drummer striking the cymbals, three splashes of blood sprayed into the night sky and burst like fireworks. The red a horrible contrast against the blatant white light behind her.
Still, her eyes didn’t leave his. Not as she endured the shots. Not as her blood rained down. And not as she heaved her throat in sharp breaths. Only when her legs fell from beneath her, and she buckled to her knees, did she finally close her eyes.
Then the screaming began. Not from Tia, but right next to him, close to his ear. A guttural shriek echoed as Mercedes cried and the van sped off just as quickly as it had approached.
Mercedes’s feet slipped from beneath her as she pushed forward. Adam launched ahead, too, wrestling his hands onto her shoulders, trying to pull her back and spare her from what she was about to see.
The rain on her bare arms made her slippery, and though he tried to grasp her, his hands just slid along her wet shoulders. Bolting across the street, she screamed ferocious cries of pain. Louder than any gunshot he’d ever had ring in his ear.
He jogged behind her, his own throat feeling so tight that he wondered if he even had the strength to speak.
