Cormack comes in, calls Mac out into the hallway, and for a while, I’m left in the office alone. I hear the click of the lock turn over, so I know I can’t get out. There’s nothing I can use as a weapon. The desk surface is empty. There’s not even a damn pen. Every drawer is locked tight.
I sigh.
Honestly, being kidnapped is a lot more waiting around than I’d have imagined before all this mafia drama went down — if you’re not waiting to be killed, you’re waiting to be rescued or waiting to get a chance to go to the bathroom… Always waiting. This time is even more boring than the last, but at least I’m not tied to a chair.
It’s the little things.
I run my finger along the pointed edges of the sun necklace Nate gave me as my mind turns over thoughts of him and Parker and Boo. I pray to god they’re all still alive.
If I listen hard, I can almost make out the conversation in the hallway. I creep to my feet and ease toward the door, pressing my ear flat against the wood so I can hear better.
Cormack’s voice is rising with anger, a stark contrast to the measured tones of his boss. Straining, I catch fragments every few seconds.
…West…
…may have flipped on us…
…FBI…
…get you out of here…
…take care of her…
…body at the marsh….
None of that sounds good. In fact, all of that sounds pretty fucking terrible. I can’t make out Mac’s words, but a few seconds later I hear the sound of footsteps. My ass is barely back in my seat when the door swings open and Cormack steps into the room.
His smile gleams as darkly as the gun in his hand. “Just you and me now, Phoebe.”
I gulp.
Somehow, I felt safer with the mob boss.
***
“Where are you taking me?” I ask for the twentieth time.
Cormack doesn’t answer as he pushes me through the empty warehouse, using the barrel of his gun like a cattle prod whenever I’m not moving fast enough for his liking.
“Where’s Mac?”
“Why? You think he’s gonna save you?” Cormack snorts. “He’s the one who ordered the hit.”
The hit? As in….
Crap on ciabatta loaf.
“You can’t kill me.” I swallow. “You need me.”
“Apparently not anymore.” His voice is casual, like we’re discussing the weather. “Your father surprised us. Didn’t think he had the balls to go to the FBI about Mac, but we just got word he flipped.”
Dad went to the FBI?
Cormack’s feeling chatty. “He must love you. Thought it’d save you, probably. That the boys in blue would find you in time.” He laughs, like he’s told a great joke. “Stupid of him, really.”
My heart clenches.
We reach the end of one hallway and turn down another. I see a doorway up ahead, light shining in around its edges, illuminating dust motes in the stale air. We’re headed outside.