Secret Life Of Amy Bensen: Forsaken Part 13

Gia notices this gesture, eyeing the gun a moment before she tugs the hoodie over her head and tucks her long dark brown hair underneath without me telling her to. We stare at each other again and I don't f.u.c.king know why, any more than I know why I'm not walking. We just are. We're staring and standing and not moving. And then I'm moving.

With a low growl, I cave to the ever-present need to hold onto her, lacing her fingers with mine, and leading her to the door. We step into the elevator and still I keep her close. Exiting the elevator, I'm on alert, on edge, and I blame Gia. Granted, I'm always there to some degree, but she has me ready to drop and roll with my gun drawn.

I fork over a big tip to the doorman and when he offers to escort us to the side of the hotel where the Escalade still waits, I wave him off. My instincts are buzzing, and this time it's not about Gia and her warnings. This is a sense of awareness I've lived with even before Sheridan, when I first started walking the line as a treasure hunter. The same instinct that made me d.a.m.n good then, and even now, at getting away with things others cannot. I have a sense that a wrong move now will be lethal, like there are eyes all around me, and Jared's claim no one else saw me at that apartment isn't true. It was a risk, one I could have made more calculated had I not been f.u.c.king emotionally coming apart at the edges over my sister's well-being. I'd been in the moment, not the big picture.

Following Gia to the pa.s.senger's-side door of the Escalade, I hold it open and ensure she's safely inside before quickly moving to the driver's-side door. Climbing inside the vehicle, I lock the doors and start the engine. Every nerve ending in my body is jumping.

"Chad-"

"Later. When I know we're safe."

I pull onto the road and my sense of unease increases. I veer into the neighborhood behind the hotel and start weaving through the streets. When I see no signs of trouble following me, I turn onto a main highway and head the few miles downtown. Still, I'm cautious, and travel down another residential street-and notice the dark sedan from two streets back. Abruptly, I put us in reverse and back toward the vehicle. It starts backing up and I shove us into Park and draw my gun.

"Chad!" Gia calls out.

"Lock the door," I order, exiting the Escalade and shutting her inside.

The sedan stops moving, idling, and I rush at it, closing the distance between it and me, but the hair on the back of my neck stands up at the same moment I hear the sound of fast approaching motorcycle engines revving. I glance over my shoulder as the gla.s.s shatters on the pa.s.senger's side of the Escalade. Gia. Forgetting the sedan, I turn and start running, rounding the vehicle as Gia's scream pierces the air. A man, or I think it's a man, in leather and a helmet is leaning into the Escalade while another waits on a motorcycle nearby, holding a gun in my direction.

f.u.c.k him-if he kills me he can't get the cylinder, and I don't back down. I shoot at his tires and miss. He revs his engine and comes at me. About that time, Gia is hauled out of the truck and I tackle the man holding her. We go down on the ground, and I curse as I land on the bottom, my head hitting the pavement, along with my gun, which bounces away. A fist comes down on my face, followed by another.

"Chad!" Gia shouts, and I'm terrified that the other man will get to her before I can.

"The gun!" I shout, grabbing the jacket of my attacker at the same moment I ram my knee into his groin.

The sound of a gunshot splits the air, and the man on top of me rolls off. As tempting as it is to go after him, I roll in the opposite direction, coming to my feet to find Gia holding the gun. I take it from her as both of the men mount their bikes and speed off.

"Inside," I order urgently, ushering her toward the Escalade.

She hesitates at the edge of the gla.s.s-covered seat and I grab her, all but tossing her across the seats. She yelps, no doubt from the gla.s.s that also digs into my jeans-clad leg, but I'll take 'alive and with me' over 'dead or with someone else' any day.

I throw us into Reverse, finding the black sedan nowhere in sight, hearing the sound of sirens in the not-so-far distance.

"Why the f.u.c.k were they after you, Gia? Sheridan doesn't want revenge on you badly enough to ignore me."

"I don't know. And who says they were ignoring you?"

"They were after you, Gia," I say, putting us in Drive and accelerating. "And now our d.a.m.n license plates are going to be hot all over again."

"They weren't after me," she insists. "That makes no sense."

"No. It doesn't. Does it? Trust no one? Nailed that one." I glance down to find her hand bleeding. "f.u.c.k."

She curls her fingers into her palm. "I reopened my cut. I'm fine, but your eye is swelling again."

I rip my s.h.i.+rt over my head and toss it to her. "Wrap it. And you're not fine. Nothing is fine." She's right. My eye is swelling again. f.u.c.k me, and f.u.c.k all this s.h.i.+t. I round a corner and pull onto a main downtown street, then take two more turns. Finally I pull into the driveway of what was once a brewery and is now a six-thousand-foot apartment building with a tech center. I key in a code and the garage doors open. We enter the two-deep, four-car garage and a white pickup truck follows us inside.

"Who is that?" Gia asks urgently. "Is that your friend? Please tell me it's your friend."

"We're about to find out," I say, lowering the garage door and exiting the Escalade with my gun drawn. Rounding the hood, I target the driver's door, watching as it pops open. But even before I see the man's face, his light brown hair tied at the nape and the orange UT Longhorns T-s.h.i.+rt is a dead giveaway.

"Nicest greeting you've ever given me." Jared laughs, shutting his door and settling his hands on his jeans-clad hips. "Should I remind you that I got an invitation, and I wasn't the guy that uglied up that pretty face of yours or stole your d.a.m.n s.h.i.+rt?"

"We were attacked a mile back," I say, and I can't seem to contain the accusation in my voice as I add, "You were the only one who knew we were here, and where we were going."

"There's no way anyone found you through me. No one saw me. No one saw you at the apartment. I'm sure of it. And who the h.e.l.l is 'we,' and do you trust that person?"

Something is off. Really off, and I don't know what, but it can't be Jared. I've known him for eight years, and he's never failed me. That only leaves Gia. "I haven't decided," I say, holstering my weapon and moving to open Gia's door. She twists around to face me, her legs dangling from the gla.s.s-covered seat. I stand in front of her, an unmoving wall, and tell her, "We need to talk."

"Right. I was almost kidnapped or killed or whatever that was, and now I'm sensing I'm the enemy again. Why don't you just tie me up and torture me, the way Sheridan did you?"

"Don't tempt me."

My hands come down on her waist and I lift her over the gla.s.s, setting her on the ground. Her bloodied hand comes down on my chest. "Where's the s.h.i.+rt?"

"I dropped it."

I reach around her, retrieving it and wrapping it around her hand in a knot. "That talk," I say when I'm done, "is going to be free of bulls.h.i.+t."

"Yeah, like you're capable of that."

"What the f.u.c.k does that mean?"

She throws a look toward Jared and then back to me. "Alone," she says. "We have that no-bulls.h.i.+t talk alone."

My lips thin. "Alone it is, sweetheart, but get ready to tell all, because we both know you haven't." I grip her elbow and lead her toward the door. Jared is leaning against the wall, one booted ankle crossed over the other, his gaze sweeping over the blood on my chest before he arches a brow. "Talk about liking it rough."

"You aren't funny, a.s.shole," I growl, and for some unexplainable reason, I pull Gia in front of me, putting myself between her and Jared, like he's the problem, not her. Keying another code in to the panel on the wall, I still feel safer with Gia in front of me than behind. I urge her forward and follow her through a laundry area that leads to a kitchen with a low-hanging stainless-steel ventilation hood dangling over a stone counter. Still holding Gia's arm, I scan the furnished living area to the right and the dining area to the left, finding nothing but two years of dust gathered since my last visit.

Motioning to the winding black metal stairs in front of us, I lean into Gia and say, "The master bedroom is to the left. There's a first aid kit under the bathroom sink. I'll be there in a minute."

She doesn't move. She turns and faces Jared as he joins us in the kitchen. He scowls. "Something you want to say to me?"

A second pa.s.ses. Two. Three. "Nothing," she finally replies, turning and running up the stairs.

Jared whistles. "What was that, and who the h.e.l.l is she?"

Trust no one. The words play in my head. The sense of unease I am feeling with Jared is like removing the last piece of security I had left in this world, and it's p.i.s.sing me off. I march past him and enter the laundry area, keying in a code that will put this place on lockdown if anyone tries to come or go without another matching sequence of numbers.

Returning to the kitchen, I find myself confronted by Jared, who gives me a big hug. "I thought you were dead, man."

I return the embrace, relief seeping into my bones. He's a friend. A real friend. Gia might stir unfamiliar emotions in me, but I share a history with Jared. "They can't kill me," I tell him.

He breaks away and stares at me. "What is it you have that they want so badly?"

I step back from him, and we both lean on the counter, facing each other, him arching a brow. "You aren't answering. Talk to me, man. What are they after?"

"More importantly, where's my sister?"

"Back in New York and safe, I promise."

"New York isn't safe."

"Denver wasn't safe. Not with Meg here, working d.a.m.n hard to get close to her. And let me show you just how big a problem that was." He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone, flipping it around to show me a picture that has me grabbing the cell from his hand.

"Rollin," I growl. "That b.a.s.t.a.r.d is supposed to be dead."

"That's what we all thought. The question now becomes, does Daddy Dearest know he's alive? He hasn't shown up on Sheridan's radar at all."

"What about Meg? Has she? Where is she now?"

"Gone. She followed Amy to New York, wreaked a little more havoc on her life, and then disappeared. I've tried to find her."

"At least tell me you got the clue I left for Amy and gave it to her."

"That I can confirm. I gave her the clue, and she found the letter you left for her, and the list of Sheridan's business partners and their many sins. She went to Sheridan and promised to turn him and his partners in to the authorities if they didn't leave her alone. And her new fiance went one step further. He hired a hit man and promised Sheridan that everyone on that list would be dead if anything happened to Amy or anyone close to her."

"Fiance? What the h.e.l.l are you talking about? I haven't been gone long enough for her to have a d.a.m.n fiance, let alone one she trusts enough to involve him in this."

"Long enough for her to fall in love and get pregnant."

"Pregnant? Amy's f.u.c.king pregnant?"

He gives a grim shake of his head. "No. She miscarried, and she didn't handle it well."

And I wasn't there for her. The idea that she has been alone, and turned to some stranger out of desperation, shreds me. "Explain how and why she ended up back in New York?"

"That's where her billionaire fiance, Liam Stone, lives."

"Billionaire? She got pregnant by a man she just happened to meet the night she was on the run, and he just happens to be a billionaire?"

"I agree, it's hard to swallow. But Liam Stone claims he loves her, and he's pretty d.a.m.n convincing. And his resume, if you want to call it that, is impressive. Protege of a famous architect and famous as one himself. He not only makes a fortune from his own work, he inherited a fortune from his adopted father, who was also his mentor."

"And he met Amy how?"

"They met on her flight to Denver."

"That's a little too coincidental for my comfort."

"He has to have a corrupted agenda? While I agree again, there simply isn't proof, and he did go for Sheridan's jugular with that hit man."

"Which could have been an act to convince Amy to trust him. And who says he has to be working with Sheridan? There are plenty of people outside of Sheridan's circle who want what he wants, all of whom would use my sister against me to get it."

"Which is what, d.a.m.n it? What was worth the slaughter of your family, the risk to your sister, yourself, and now me? What's the problem here? Why not just give them what they want? Because I've never known you not to take money for anything. It's time to tell me what this is about."

"It's time for you to get out. Tell me what I need to know, and then get as far away from me as you can."

"It's too late for me to disappear. Liam knows I'm in this, and so does Sheridan."

My jaw clenches. "I didn't want this for you."

"Yeah, well, we both know I didn't want this for me, either. There's a reason why I didn't join The Underground. But I'm in now, deeper and deeper every single day. Give them what they want-or tell them where to get it themselves."

"It's not that simple."

"Why?"

I stand there, knowing I should tell him the truth, trying to force the words that just won't come. Telling myself it's to protect him, I say, "I need to deal with a situation. I'll be back in a few, and I'll want to see everything you have on Mr. Liam Stone, and anyone who's been anywhere near my sister since I've been gone."

"I a.s.sumed as much." He glances at the blood on my chest. "And your . . . situation. Does she have a name?"

"Her name is 'My Problem, Not Yours.'" I don't give him time to argue, turning and rus.h.i.+ng up the stairs, not about to lose sight of what I know in my gut: Gia's no secretary, and she's about to tell me the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me G.o.d. Reaching the bedroom door, I open it and step inside a room with brick walls and steel beams across the ceiling, a huge king-sized bed in the center. And sitting on the end of it is Gia, my s.h.i.+rt still wrapped around her hand and a gun, one of several I have stashed in the room, lying across her lap.

ELEVEN.

CAUTIOUSLY, I SHUT THE DOOR. "I see you found my stockpile of weapons."

"Now we're even," she replies. "You have one, and so do I." I step toward her. "Don't," she warns.

"Why?"

"Because you want the gun, and I'm not letting you take my only way to protect myself."

"You don't have to protect yourself from me. I pulled you out of the arms of that attacker today, remember?"

"To serve a purpose. To serve you."

"I thought we agreed that we both want to destroy Sheridan."

"You want my help until you don't need me anymore. Then you'll do just what you promised and sell me to the highest bidder."

"I don't have any reason to sell you."

"You'll find one."

I narrow my gaze. "Why did those men come after you?"

"Do you have the cylinder?"

"You're deflecting. You also told me to convince everyone I didn't have it, and I a.s.sume that includes you."

She stands, holding the gun on me. "Do you have the cylinder?"