The dark-haired man looks up at me over his shoulder. “Did you touch him at all?”
“His… his face.”
I gesture to the spot on Carson’s cheek that I brushed my fingertips over, and Ryland uses his sleeve to wipe it clean.
Fuck, I didn’t even think about that. I touched a dead man at what will undoubtedly become a crime scene, unless the guys are able to clean all this up before the cops get here.
That thought sends an added rush of urgency through me. We need to find Marcus so we can get out of here. We can’t afford to wait too long.
“There.” I point to the trail of blood I noticed before. “That goes around the corner and then continues on for a little way. And then it stops. Maybe Marcus—”
I break off, because I don’t know how to end that sentence. Maybe he what? Walked away from getting shot three times? Miraculously stopped bleeding somehow?
I’ve been shot. I know what it’s like. And it’s not the kind of thing you walk away from. At least, not fast enough to disappear completely.
Ryland’s head turns as his gaze lands on the bloody smear. He presses to his feet and follows it, tugging a gun from the waistband of his pants as he walks around the corner. Theo and I trail in his wake, and this time, we don’t stop where I stopped. We keep going, peering into the wide alleyways between buildings, scouring the ground for droplets of blood or any other sign that Marcus might’ve left.
My head still aches, and my heart feels like it’s working harder than it should to pump my blood, but I keep pace with the men, occasionally calling out Marcus’s name. None of us speak beyond that, an uncomfortable sort of silence that prickles with everything we’re not saying.
As we walk along the side of a low, squat building, the little hairs at the back of my neck rise, and my footsteps stutter. I start to turn around, praying to a god I’m not even sure I believe in that it’s Marcus—please, please, let it be Marcus—but before I can even complete the turn, I’m yanked backward roughly, shoved behind Theo as Ryland raises his gun.
My instinct wasn’t wrong. Someone was behind us.
But it’s not who I hoped.
Dominic steadies his own weapon with both hands. He’s a few yards away from us, having just stepped out from between two buildings. He’s got his gun aimed right back at Ryland, finger resting on the trigger.
A horrible feeling of déjà vu washes over me as the two men stand off.
No. God, no fucking way.
I can’t let this happen again. I won’t be able to survive it.
“You guys are being loud as fuck. You know that, right?” Dominic smirks. “It’s like you wanted me to find you.”
He’s got a black eye, and it looks a little like he’s favoring one leg. If he’s in pain, though, it’s taking a backseat to his smug excitement.
“Maybe we did want you to find us,” Ryland says evenly. He’s still as a statue, and his voice is so calm it’s almost hard to believe it’s coming out of a real person. It’s also impossible to tell if he’s lying or not. “Maybe we wanted to have a little chat with you. Where’s Marcus?”
Dominic’s brows twitch, pulling together for a second before relaxing. “How the fuck should I know? Last I saw him, he was running away from the car crash with her.”
He jerks his chin toward me, although he doesn’t take his gaze off Ryland. I know the only reason he hasn’t fired yet is because he’s not sure he’ll be able to take Ryland out without getting a bullet through the face first.
Ryland doesn’t even blink. He gives no outward reaction at all, just stares at Dominic with his gun aimed at the man’s heart. “Was he still there when you killed Carson? What did you do to him?”
Dominic’s eyes widen. “Carson’s dead?”
“Don’t act fucking stupid. And don’t think we’re stupid either.” For the first time since I told them Marcus had disappeared, emotion creeps into Ryland’s voice. He sounds pissed. Furious.
“I didn’t fucking kill Carson,” Dominic insists, glaring at him. “And I didn’t kill Marcus either, although I would’ve if I’d gotten the—”
He never gets to finish the sentence.
Like a bolt of fucking lightning, Theo moves. Dominic’s attention is focused on the obvious threat—the gun in Ryland’s hand—so he catches the movement too late.
He pivots, swinging the gun around to aim it at Theo, but Theo reaches him before he can fire. He pushes Dominic’s arms to one side as a shot rings out, and my whole body jerks at the sound as the bullet embeds itself in the side of the warehouse next to us. He keeps moving forward, using his bodyweight to shove Dominic backward. They stumble diagonally across the wide walkway between buildings before slamming into one.
Dominic lets out a deep grunt as his back thuds heavily against the wall. Theo grabs his hand and twists, and the gun falls from the other man’s grip, landing with a clatter on the ground. Ryland strides forward until he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Theo, jamming his own gun under Dominic’s chin and pressing up so hard that I’m worried he’ll snap the guy’s head off.
Not that I’d try to stop him if he did.
Dominic’s lips curl back in something like a snarl. He’s breathing heavily, pressed so tightly against the wall it’s like he’s trying to disappear through it.
“The only reason you’re not dead already is because I want answers, fuckhead,” Ryland growls, digging the gun into the soft flesh beneath Dominic’s jawbone. “So start talking before I paint this fucking wall with your brains.”
I’m not even sure Dominic can talk. I’m pretty
