Dominic’s blue eyes dart between the two men in front of him, then roll downward like he’s trying to get a look at the ground. He’s probably wondering where his gun is, and whether he’s got a chance in hell of grabbing it if he fights back.
I’m pretty sure the answer to that is no, but I dart forward anyway, scooping the gun up before he can even think of reaching for it. The metal is cool in my hand, and I grip it tightly as I straighten. The world swims in my vision from the sudden movement, making me grit my teeth as I try to keep from passing out.
“Talk,” Ryland demands.
Dominic’s chest is rising and falling fast. There’s fear in his eyes, but also an analytical sort of cunning—as if, even this close to death, he’s trying to find some way to spin this to his advantage.
“I didn’t kill Carson,” he finally says. “Or Marcus.”
“Then who the fuck did?”
Ryland’s voice is a low growl, and he digs the barrel of the gun into Dominic’s chin again, making the other man choke and gag. But when the pain on Dominic’s face fades, a small smile replaces it. He lifts his eyebrows slightly, his body relaxing.
“Check the time,” he says quietly.
Ryland freezes, his whole body going rigid as if Dominic hit him with an electric shock. “Theo?”
The tall blond man digs into his pocket for his phone, glancing down at it quickly. His shoulders slump. “Two minutes after twelve.”
“Fuck!”
Ryland fists the front of Dominic’s shirt, practically lifting him off his feet as he shoves the guy harder against the wall, digging the barrel of his weapon so deep into his skin it’s like he’s trying to use it as a knife instead of a gun. Dominic winces but remains relaxed. He stares steadily at Ryland, holding his gaze.
Finally, the broad-shouldered man curses again and steps back, releasing his grip on Dominic, although he keeps his weapon raised.
“That first answer was free.” Dominic rubs at his neck, stretching it from side to side to work the kinks out. “I didn’t have to tell you anything, but I’ve got nothing to hide. I didn’t kill either of them.”
“No,” Theo bites out. “You just teamed up with Carson and abducted Ayla, then ran us off the goddamn road.”
Dominic shrugs, still massaging his neck. “It wasn’t personal. You know that.”
“Well, it’s fucking personal now,” Ryland growls. “Tell us where Marcus is, or—”
“Or what?” Dominic shakes his head, looking oddly calm. “Seventy-two hours is up. The game is over. You know the rules as well as I do.” He hesitates for a second, then adds, “But I wasn’t lying about that either. I don’t know where he is. Whoever killed Carson probably killed him too. Dumped the body somewhere, maybe.”
My stomach pitches at the casual way he discusses death, as if it’s as mundane a part of life as brushing your teeth. I get the feeling he didn’t like Carson very much, that their partnership was one of convenience based on mutual benefit, but he doesn’t seem even a little upset at the idea that Carson is dead.
He probably isn’t, I think numbly. This puts him one step closer to winning the game. Every other player has to fall or swear allegiance to someone for that person to win, and Carson didn’t really strike me as the type who’d bow to anyone. Maybe Dominic is relieved to hear that his onetime ally is dead.
“Yeah, I do know the rules, Roth.” Ryland narrows his eyes, his finger still teasing the trigger of his gun. “But I swear to fucking god, if you are lying, you’ll pay for it. Fuck the game. Fuck Luca. If you killed Marcus, I’ll end you with my bare hands.”
Dominic cocks his head slightly, a small smile playing at his lips. “Careful, Bennett. You never know who might be listening.”
He casts a glance around at the large warehouse buildings that surround us, his gaze focused high on their walls, and my heart jumps as I dart a quick look that way too.
Cameras.
Fuck, if there are security cameras here, there must be cameras back near where Carson’s body still lies.
A dozen wild thoughts flit through my mind as I try to sort through the implications of that. If security footage of the last several hours exists, it must’ve captured the moment Marcus was shot.
And whatever happened afterward.
My breath quickens as I glance from Theo and Ryland, my chilled skin seeming to flush uncomfortably hot all of a sudden. The throbbing pain in my head is like a brand on my fucking brain, but I ignore it as I lower Dominic’s gun a little.
“The cameras. Can you access them somehow?” I have no idea how the fuck we would do that, but I know these men have access to plenty of shit I don’t. “If we—”
My words break off as a wave of dizziness slams into me, hitting me so hard I actually stagger backward. I brace the heel of my hand on my thigh, still clutching the gun I picked up earlier, as I try to breathe through the fog clouding my mind.
“Shit. She’s probably got a concussion. She looks like fucking death,” Dominic comments unhelpfully, and I wish I could stand up straight or even see straight enough to flip him off. But I’ve only got one hand, and I need that one to stay exactly where it is or I’ll probably keel over.
“Shut the fuck up, man. She wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you.” Theo’s voice is hard as glass, and a second later, Ryland’s arm loops around my waist.
He helps me stand upright, and when I wrap my arm around him, Theo plucks the gun from my hand. I don’t know what he does with
