him. You have to trust me.”
“I don’t.”
“I knew you’d say that.” Sighing, I lowered my arms a few degrees and tried to come up with something that would convince her of my loyalties. “Look. If Trevor had sent me, I’d be armed, right? You can search me.”
“If you’re not out of here in five seconds, you’re a dead man.”
“Jazz . . .”
“Four.”
Damn. I was going to regret this.
Moving as though I meant to comply with her demands, I shifted forward slightly and watched her face. The next time she blinked, I wrestled the gun away, then turned it on her.
“You asshole,” she said through clenched teeth. “He’s your son, too.”
“I know. That’s why I’d never work for Trevor. But since you don’t believe me, I couldn’t think of another way to survive long enough to prove it. Come on, Jazz, don’t you think—
ow!
” My righteous little speech ended in a howl when something pinched my arm hard. I glanced down to see Cyrus clinging to me, his tiny teeth sunk into my flesh like an oversized piranha.
Jazz flashed me a look. “Please don’t hurt him.”
“I told you I’m not going to hurt him,” I said, with gritted teeth of my own. “Can you please ask him to stop biting me, if I promise not to blow anyone’s brains out?”
She scuttled closer. “Cy, baby, it’s all right,” she coaxed. “Come over here.”
Cyrus released me. For an instant, he glowered, his hands clenched in small fists, and then he toddled over to Jazz’s waiting arms. Jesus, the kid was just like his mother. A pint-sized bundle of guts.
“Thanks.” I rubbed at my chewed arm and winced. My leghad stopped humming and started to sing—a full-blown choir of pain. I had to stop the bleeding, at least. “Okay. If I put this down for a second, will you promise not to attack me? Either of you? I have to wrap my leg.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
I stared at her. “Uh . . . you shot me.”
“I did?” She frowned. “That was a wild shot. Didn’t think I hit anything. Here, let me see.” She settled Cyrus on the ground. “Stay here, baby, okay? Just for a minute.”
“’Kay.” Cyrus gave a huge yawn and thrust his thumb back in. How did she get him to do that? All the little kids I’d encountered were tantrum factories. This boy was as calm as a desert mirage.
Jazz scooted toward me—and without thinking, I handed her the gun.
She smiled. “All right, Donatti. I believe you.”
“Good.” Relief kept me from blurting that I hadn’t meant to do that and would still feel safer with the weapon in my possession. After all, she’d conned me before. But I’d cross those shark-infested waters when we weren’t in fear for our lives, which probably wouldn’t be until someone killed Trevor. Preferably me.
I’d never actually wanted to kill anyone before. The feeling terrified me.
Though sunrise had brought color to the woods, the thick shade beneath the branches made things difficult to see. Jazz prodded my leg, gently at first, and then with a firm grip. I hissed. “Sorry,” she said. “It went through.”
“Hey, it’s a stroke of luck. We won’t have to dig a bullet out with a stick.” Grimacing, I peeled off my shirt, used my teeth to tear it open, and worked a strip free. Jazz took it and cinchedit around my calf while I formed another makeshift bandage, mostly to keep my mouth shut against the pain. When half the shirt was gone, I dropped the rest and let out a hard breath. “I think I can learn to appreciate being shot,” I said. “Doesn’t hurt as much as Tasering.”
“Oh, God. Did Trevor . . .”
I laid a finger on her lips. “I’m okay now. Let’s work on getting the hell out of here, and then—”
Not far away, a medley of sounds exploded. Harsh growls, breaking branches, shouts, gunfire. A startled yelp. Silence. Cyrus shifted closer to Jazz, eyes wide, and she drew him in with an arm. “Bad guys,” he murmured around his thumb.
“You got
“I don’t.”
“I knew you’d say that.” Sighing, I lowered my arms a few degrees and tried to come up with something that would convince her of my loyalties. “Look. If Trevor had sent me, I’d be armed, right? You can search me.”
“If you’re not out of here in five seconds, you’re a dead man.”
“Jazz . . .”
“Four.”
Damn. I was going to regret this.
Moving as though I meant to comply with her demands, I shifted forward slightly and watched her face. The next time she blinked, I wrestled the gun away, then turned it on her.
“You asshole,” she said through clenched teeth. “He’s your son, too.”
“I know. That’s why I’d never work for Trevor. But since you don’t believe me, I couldn’t think of another way to survive long enough to prove it. Come on, Jazz, don’t you think—
ow!
” My righteous little speech ended in a howl when something pinched my arm hard. I glanced down to see Cyrus clinging to me, his tiny teeth sunk into my flesh like an oversized piranha.
Jazz flashed me a look. “Please don’t hurt him.”
“I told you I’m not going to hurt him,” I said, with gritted teeth of my own. “Can you please ask him to stop biting me, if I promise not to blow anyone’s brains out?”
She scuttled closer. “Cy, baby, it’s all right,” she coaxed. “Come over here.”
Cyrus released me. For an instant, he glowered, his hands clenched in small fists, and then he toddled over to Jazz’s waiting arms. Jesus, the kid was just like his mother. A pint-sized bundle of guts.
“Thanks.” I rubbed at my chewed arm and winced. My leghad stopped humming and started to sing—a full-blown choir of pain. I had to stop the bleeding, at least. “Okay. If I put this down for a second, will you promise not to attack me? Either of you? I have to wrap my leg.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
I stared at her. “Uh . . . you shot me.”
“I did?” She frowned. “That was a wild shot. Didn’t think I hit anything. Here, let me see.” She settled Cyrus on the ground. “Stay here, baby, okay? Just for a minute.”
“’Kay.” Cyrus gave a huge yawn and thrust his thumb back in. How did she get him to do that? All the little kids I’d encountered were tantrum factories. This boy was as calm as a desert mirage.
Jazz scooted toward me—and without thinking, I handed her the gun.
She smiled. “All right, Donatti. I believe you.”
“Good.” Relief kept me from blurting that I hadn’t meant to do that and would still feel safer with the weapon in my possession. After all, she’d conned me before. But I’d cross those shark-infested waters when we weren’t in fear for our lives, which probably wouldn’t be until someone killed Trevor. Preferably me.
I’d never actually wanted to kill anyone before. The feeling terrified me.
Though sunrise had brought color to the woods, the thick shade beneath the branches made things difficult to see. Jazz prodded my leg, gently at first, and then with a firm grip. I hissed. “Sorry,” she said. “It went through.”
“Hey, it’s a stroke of luck. We won’t have to dig a bullet out with a stick.” Grimacing, I peeled off my shirt, used my teeth to tear it open, and worked a strip free. Jazz took it and cinchedit around my calf while I formed another makeshift bandage, mostly to keep my mouth shut against the pain. When half the shirt was gone, I dropped the rest and let out a hard breath. “I think I can learn to appreciate being shot,” I said. “Doesn’t hurt as much as Tasering.”
“Oh, God. Did Trevor . . .”
I laid a finger on her lips. “I’m okay now. Let’s work on getting the hell out of here, and then—”
Not far away, a medley of sounds exploded. Harsh growls, breaking branches, shouts, gunfire. A startled yelp. Silence. Cyrus shifted closer to Jazz, eyes wide, and she drew him in with an arm. “Bad guys,” he murmured around his thumb.
“You got
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