Page 8 of When She Unravels
“Let’s go,” I say, grabbing the girl by her wrist.
“Is he dead?” she asks as I drag her up the stairs.
“I don’t know.” There’s no time to check where I hit him, all I know is he’s down and not moving. The thought I may have killed him barely registers. I doubt it. I’m not that lucky.
I run so fast up the stairs I nearly trip. Somehow, I have enough sense left in me to lock the door to the basement once we’re out. We round the corner and burst into the kitchen.
“Here.” I throw the backpack to the girl.
She rummages through it and makes a frustrated sound. “My passport is here but my phone and wallet are gone.”
How is she going to pay for her flight? We need cash. If I give her my credit card, Papà will easily be able to track her down.
“Come with me,” I tell her as I start toward Lazaro’s office on the second floor. He has a safe filled with money, weapons, and other valuables. My flats skid to a stop on the polished hardwood floor as we reach the safe. It’s a mighty thing, nearly as big as a fridge.
“You know the code?” the girl asks.
I don’t bother answering her as I key in the passcode. Like time, words feel precious. Every sound we make is a risk, a chance for someone to hear us. The house is empty at this hour, Lorna left in the early afternoon, but I’m paranoid. I look over my shoulder as I pull open the safe’s heavy door. Half of me expects to see a bleeding Lazaro right behind us with a knife in his hand, but he’s not there.
I reach in and grab a stack of cash, and then after a moment, I take my passport too. I have no idea what I’m going to do once I drop her off, but returning here isn’t an option, and I won’t get far without any documents.
Everything is quiet as we make our way to the garage, but my hands shake as I press the button to open the trunk.
“Get in,” I tell the girl.
I temper the urge to speed through the neighborhood. That might tip Michael off that something’s wrong. When I pull up outside his booth, I plaster on my most relaxed smile, even though I’m hyper aware of the drops of sweat collecting along my hairline. Michael steps out and motions for me to lower the window. We’ve always been cordial, but no more than that. I hope he’s not in the mood for conversation.
“Heading out?” he asks, dragging his gaze over the inside of the car. He’s just doing his job. There’s nothing here that should arouse his suspicion.
“Yep. Need to grab a few things for dinner at the store,” I say.
His eyes narrow. “What’s that in your bag?” he asks, pointing to where my purse is lying on the seat beside me.
My heart jumps up into my throat. For a split second, I think the passport slipped out, and he’s wondering why I need it to go to the store. Instead, when I look down, it’s the knife that I stuffed in there that has fallen out.
I let out an embarrassed laugh. “Oh, that must be Lazaro’s. He always forgets his things in the car.”
Michael sniffs. “Might want to put that away in the glove compartment while you’re out.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
He stares at me while he waits for me to do it. Crap, I stashed the gun there. I open the compartment just an inch and slide the knife in as quickly as I can.
He sniffs again and then steps away from the car. “I’ll open the gate.”
I hold my breath until I turn a corner and he disappears out of sight. We’re out. We actually made it out.
There’s a very short-lived moment of relief until I realize I have another dilemma. I don’t know how to get to the closest airport, Newark, without the GPS, which means I need to keep my phone on, but that means Papà’s men will be able to track me once they know I’m gone. Shit.
I pull up the maps app, quickly type in our destination, and scan over the route. It’s not too bad. As soon as we get close to the airport, there’ll be signs everywhere. With one final look, I pry open the SIM card compartment and toss the chip out the window. Then I turn off my phone.
My thoughts race as I get onto the highway. I have a short window of time to decide what the hell I should do. Michael will sound the alarm as soon as he realizes I’ve been gone too long. It will be only a matter of time before Papà’s men have me trapped.
If Lazaro is alive, they’ll hand me right back to him. If he’s dead, Papà will be the one in charge of my punishment. I squeeze my hands tighter around the wheel. He won’t treat me kindly for interfering in his business, freeing one of his prisoners, and killing one of his best men. Papà hates traitors. He won’t show me any mercy.
Three loud thuds drift over from the back of the car.
I take the next exit and pull into the parking lot of an abandoned Target. This stop is time we can’t waste, but I’m worried she’s suffocating in there. I pop open the trunk and help her get out.
