He took a step inside. “Listen, I can help you.”
Without answering, I whipped out my gun and held it leveled straight at his face.
“Inside,” I said.
He gaped at me, shocked.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Get inside the office, or I’ll kill you.”
He blinked and stepped inside, his hands in the air. He began to smile, looking nervous.
“Is this some bad joke, Liam?”
“Not a joke. Sit on the couch.”
He sat, his hands still in the air. I opened my desk drawer and pulled out a roll of duct tape.
“Hold your hands out.”
He complied, wrists together.
“If you’re in trouble, man, I can help. I’m on your side.”
I set the gun down within reach and began to roll the tape tightly around his wrists. He winced, but I didn’t care. I needed him to stay put, at least long enough for me to get away with the cash.
“I don’t know which side you’re on, Colin. I’ve never fucking trusted you.”
I tore off the end and tossed the tap aside.
He laughed nervously. “Man, I’m your lieutenant. I’m you’re number two. You know me.”
I glared at him. “You were assigned to me.”
His face suddenly got serious. I had never seen him look like that before.
“I swear, you can trust me,” he said.
I ignored him and turned back to the safe. Inside, I had rolls of cash, at least ten thousand, probably more, along with fake IDs, passports, and another gun. I began to shove it all into an old gym bag I had stashed in the corner.
“What are you going to do with all that?”
“Nothing,” I grunted.
“You can’t run, Liam. If you’re in trouble, let me help you.”
I slung the bag over my shoulder and grabbed the silenced pistol again, slipped it back into my pants.
“Stay here for at least ten minutes. Then you can leave.”
He shook his head. “Liam, please. Let me help.”
Without another word, I pushed out of the office and strode into the kitchen.
“Luis,” I called out.
“Yo, boss,” he said, walking over to me.
“Take the next day off. Actually, take the next few days off.” I paused and frowned, looking around. “Lay low, if you can.”
He looked serious and nodded. “You okay?”
“I’ll be fine. You just make sure you lay low for a little while.”
“Okay, will do.”
I took a step closer to him.
“How much do they know?” I said softly, nodding at the other guys.
“Less than me, which isn’t much.”
“Good. I’ll see you soon.”
He nodded, and I headed out the back door. I threw open the car door, tossed in my bag, and climbed into the driver’s seat. I turned on the engine and sped off, racing toward Richie and his mom. I clenched my jaw, fear jolting through me.
I didn’t have much time left. Colin would be free by now, or at least he would be calling Colm. I had to get Richie and his mom out of there immediately, before something bad happened to them.
I pressed down on the accelerator, thinking about nothing but getting there in time.
And as I blew through another stop sign, barely managing to check for other cars and pedestrians, a realization hit me straight in the chest: I forgot the fucking box.
The whole fucking reason I risked going back to my office at all, aside from the cash. The box was key to my whole plan. It had a whole slew of information, and it was the proof that I needed to get everything going. Colin had fucking distracted me, and I left it behind like an idiot.
I wanted to punch myself in the face. I wanted to crash my car. How could I have been so careless?
I let off the gas for half a second, unsure of what to do. I couldn’t go back, not with Colin still there, but I also couldn’t leave the box.
There was no real choice. Fuck it. I can get it later, I thought. Nothing mattered if Colm got to Richie first. I’d figure something out. One problem at a time.
I kept going, silently praying.
Chapter Twelve: Ellie
I woke up on a strange mattress in a nearly empty room, the events of the morning swirling around my brain.
Some guy had broken into my apartment, was about to kill me, but that couldn’t be true. And then Liam showed up, out of nowhere, and shot the guy? I shook my head, feeling dizzy. I stared at the smooth white ceiling, like almost every other ceiling I had seen in my life, but somehow it felt different.
It wasn’t my ceiling, I decided. That was the problem. It should have been my ceiling.
I knew it had happened, knew it was real, but I was having trouble believing it anyway. Everything flashed through my mind in bits and pieces, like an impressionist painting. It felt like a strobe light was going off in my brain, and with each new flash I caught another piece of what had happened. There was the man, pushing into my apartment; there he was, holding the gun to my face; the man standing back against the wall, gun leveled; Liam appearing; the man on the ground; Liam kicking him; running away. It was hard to hold myself together.