voice dropping an octave, as if to switch into ultra-condescension mode, “had I not assigned two agents to protect you, all three of you would be dead right now. I hope I don’t need to tell you that should you mention my name, my agent’s names, or our involvement in any of this, our protection will cease to exist, putting you in serious danger.”
My eyes found Liam and Alana’s, grateful that they still had life in front of them.
“And as for my offer, Ruby,” Skryker said, snapping my attention back to him. “It still stands. You’re more like your father than I could have wished for.”
I closed my eyes, preparing to unleash my aggravation at everything that came out of his preposterous mouth, when he beat me to the punch. “I’ll contact you in a few days. In the meantime, take care of yourself.” He swiftly exited Big Black’s imposter twin and disappeared.
Liam just as swiftly jumped out of the backseat and sat down in the driver’s seat.
“I can drive,” I said, flustered that h e’d reacted more quickly.
“I know,” Liam said. “But you need to get changed and cleaned up. I’ll drop you off at the front of the hospital—just like Mathews expects.”
“So you’re just going to play along? Accept the BS blame for shooting Chase?” I asked.
“Of course I am,” Liam responded, directly and maybe a little accusingly. “What other choice do I have? There’s no way out of this other than Skryker’s way.”
“Of course there’s another way,” I said. “There’s our way.”
Liam made a strange hmph ing sound as he pulled out of the darkness of the garage and into the bright light of day. I instinctually touched my head, then my shirt collar, to grab my sunglasses, but of course I wasn’t wearing them, since we ran out of the cabin into the dead of night. Instead, I felt the collar of my bulletproof vest— I’d forgotten I was still wearing it. I tugged at the Velcro sides and lifted it off, feeling the soreness in my back where the vest had absorbed the bullets. All this time, and I hadn’t thought to take it off. My skin thanked me for letting it breathe.
Without any more time to argue with Liam, I climbed over the center console past Alana into the back of the SUV. Just like Skryker said, there was a large duffel bag with a change of clothes for each of us. Three oversize plastic baggies marked with our names. I grabbed the one that read “Agent Rose,” clenching my jaw at the premature designation.
I took off my sweat- and blood-stained tank and pulled the new similar tank over my head. It felt disgusting and wrong to put clean clothes on my very dirty body, but what choice did I have? Lying on my back to change my jeans, I marveled at how well the new ones fit despite not actually being mine. Then I grabbed the wet wipes and began scrubbing off the dried blood, throwing the used wipes into the baggie with my old clothes—it was all garbage as far as I was concerned. Or, more to the point, evidence in need of disposal.
As Liam approached the hospital’s main entrance, I climbed back over the seat to sit next to Alana and handed her the baggie with her name on it. “Chase is going to be OK. You’re going to be OK. We are all going to be OK. OK?”
“OK,” she parroted back without looking me in the eye.
“Do you think you can remember the story?” I asked, pointing to the paper still in her trembling hands.
“I’m not as good at this as you are, Ruby.” She folded the paper in half. “But I’ll try my best.”
“You have to, Alana. It might be the only thing keeping you alive right now,” I said, wishing that the words weren’t true. That I somehow knew the way to protect her 24/7 without getting the police or media involved. Maybe Liam was right: Skryker’s way was the only way. “Go home, take a hot shower, tell your parents you’re sorry for worrying them, and I’ll call you in a little while. OK?”
“OK, fine,” Alana said, verbally
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