Assassins: Slow Agony Part 3

"I guess not."

I hugged her. "Thank you."

She hugged me back. "Sisters unite."

We held onto each other for several minutes. Then we broke apart. There were tears in my eyes. I'd come so close to losing her. "I can't believe this happened to you. It's because of me."

"Because of Griffin, you mean. Isn't that who the guy wanted?"

"Same thing," I said.

"Are you an ex-a.s.sa.s.sin? Were you in jail?" she asked pointedly. "None of this is your fault. It's Griffin's."

"You don't understand," I said. "It's complicated."

"So you keep saying," she said. She sighed. "But it's over, isn't it? You killed that guy, and it's over."

"Yeah." It was over, wasn't it? "Look, you should stay here tonight. In the morning-"

"That's pretty much now," said Naomi, gesturing to the window.

She was right. Outside, the sky was splintered with the dawn. The sun would be coming up in a few minutes. I rubbed my face. "Wow. And here I was, wanting a drink. I guess it's officially too early, huh?"

"Screw it," she said. "You got some marshmallow vodka in that freezer of yours?"

"You know it," I said, getting up and going to the kitchen. I brought back the bottle and handed it to her. "You don't need a gla.s.s or anything, do you?"

She laughed, but it was strained. Uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the cap, she upended the vodka into her mouth, taking a big gulp. She swallowed, made a little face, s.h.i.+vered, and handed the bottle to me.

I followed suit.

We watched the sunrise together in silence, pa.s.sing the vodka bottle back and forth. I wasn't sure what else there was to say. The liquor burned its way into my stomach, lighting me up inside and making the rest of the world just a little blurry around the edges.

I woke up to the poke of cold metal at the base of my skull, a deep voice whispering in my ear, "You need to call Griffin."

Naomi and I had pa.s.sed out on the couch together, exhausted and half drunk. I opened my eyes to make sure she was okay.

She was still asleep, curled up on the other side of the couch. I could see her out of the corner of my eye. If I turned the other direction, I could see tattooed skin. He was beside me, his arm around my shoulders, pinning me against his body. He had a gun at my neck.

"You're not dead," I said.

That could only mean one thing. The serum. This guy had it. The serum was a weapon that my father's company Dewhurst-McFarland had developed to make supersoldiers. A guy named Bart Caldwell had gotten hold of it and used the serum to make his own army of a.s.sa.s.sins for hire. Griffin had been one of those a.s.sa.s.sins. This guy was probably one too.

The fact that he had the gun at the back of my neck and not at my head cinched it. I had the serum too. And that meant that the only way to kill me was to cut my spinal cord and keep the wound from healing. He had the gun against the most vulnerable part of my body.

That was why this guy wasn't dead after all. I'd shot him, but he had the serum. So, he'd healed.

"You're a terrible shot, sweetheart," said the man.

I didn't think so. I was fairly sure that I'd killed him. But his voice was gravelly and scratchy, and there was still blood all over him. Was it possible that I'd only wounded him?

"Are you Op Wraith or what?"

The man just laughed. "Call Griffin."

"I can't."

"The h.e.l.l you can't. I can see your d.a.m.ned phone on the coffee table."

"I don't know his phone number. I haven't seen him in months."

"Bulls.h.i.+t. Don't try that with me. I got good intelligence that the two of you are hot and heavy."

"We broke up." I wish I'd taken the time to cut this man's spinal cord back at the abandoned house. Just to be sure. But I hadn't even thought about it. What the h.e.l.l was wrong with me? Some guy was after Griffin, and I didn't even think that it was likely he had the serum? What? Was I too stupid to live or what?

"You broke up."

"Yes." I looked at Naomi. No, I was being too hard on myself. I didn't know what I was doing. Griffin was the one who was trained for this kind of stuff. And she was right. He'd gotten me into this mess. This was his problem, not mine.

"I don't buy it. You're protecting him."

"I'm not," I said. "I don't know where he is." Was I going to be able to convince this guy of that? Somehow, I didn't think I was. I was going to have to figure out some way to take him down. But how? If I moved, he'd shoot me.

The man laughed. "I get it, sweetheart. You're willing to sacrifice yourself for him. But how about your friend?"

And then he wasn't holding onto me anymore.

I got off the couch as quickly as I could. Where was my gun?

He sprang across the room. He put the gun to Naomi's forehead.

s.h.i.+t.

"Call Griffin," he said.

"I'm telling you, I can't call him." I had to save Naomi. Where was my gun? I cast a glance around the apartment, trying to remember where I'd put it when we came back from the abandoned house.

"Looking for this?" He held up my gun. "Shouldn't leave these lying around on kitchen counters, you know."

s.h.i.+t. My heart was pounding. My palms were sweaty. I didn't know what to do. "Please leave Naomi out of it. She's my friend. She doesn't know anything about this." Somehow, I didn't think this guy was going to stop just because I asked nicely.

"You think I won't shoot her?" he said. "Don't you think I'm serious?"

"I believe you." Could I hit him over the head with something? No. I didn't think so. I didn't think I could even move without him either shooting Naomi or shooting me. It was better if he shot me, of course. I had the serum, and I'd heal. Still, I couldn't be sure he'd shoot me.

He s.h.i.+fted the gun from her forehead to her shoulder.

The gun went off.

Naomi woke at once, screaming.

He laughed in her face. "Wakey wakey, b.i.t.c.h. Remember me?"

"Stop it!" I screamed. "Don't hurt her."

The gun was back at her forehead. "So call Griffin."

Naomi was sobbing, staring at the blood pouring out of her shoulder, her eyes wide and terrified.

I reached for her. "Please..."

His finger moved on the trigger. "Stay back."

I looked in her eyes. "I'm so sorry." This was my fault. This was all my fault. When would I learn that I couldn't have friends?

"This isn't a joke, blondie," he said. "I'm going to blow your friend's head off. Now pick up your d.a.m.ned phone and call Griffin."

I picked up the phone. I dialed 911. I put the phone to my ear.

"You only dialed three numbers," said the man. "I heard you. Give me the phone."

I was shaking. Maybe if I stalled, someone would pick up, and they'd hear what was going on. I didn't know if they'd be able to do anything with the guy. He had the serum after all, and he'd probably get away. But it would slow him down, wouldn't it?

"Give me the phone," he roared.

"Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?" said a voice on the other end of my phone.

He heard it. "Oh, I'm really sorry you did that." He pulled the trigger.

There was a loud crack. Naomi went lifeless on the couch.

"No," I moaned.

He s.n.a.t.c.hed the phone away from me.

"Was that a gunshot?" said the person on the line.

He hung up.

I fell to my knees next to Naomi, my hands fluttering over her face. "No."

The man yanked me to my feet and dragged me away from Naomi. "You got your car keys?"

"I don't know," I said. "You killed her." I was crying. At least tears were leaking out of my eyes. But inside, all I felt was lurching despair. He was going to kill me now, too, wasn't he? Could the 911 people trace my call like they did on the movies? Would they know my address? Were they on their way?

"Do you have them?" he said.

I felt in my pocket. "No. They're hanging up near the door." What did it matter?

He slammed me up against the wall. "All right, listen to me. You're going to get in your car, and you're going to drive away from here. And you're going to go to Griffin. I'm going to follow you."

"I'm telling you, I don't know where he is."

"Then you find out where he is." His face was so close to mine that I could smell his rank breath.

I cowered. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"You figure it out." He smiled. "You find him. You tell him that Marcel's following you around. You tell him to meet me in two weeks in Atlantic City. Or I'm going to kill everyone you've ever cared about and everyone he's ever cared about. You got it?"

"I..."

"Answer me, blondie. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Watched you tonight," he said. "You were talking to a nice boy, weren't you? Curly hair? Dimples?"

I gulped. "I just met him tonight. I don't care about him."

He smiled. "You gonna care about him when I dump pieces of his body in your lap?"

I whimpered, shutting my eyes.

"You do what I say. Got it?"

I cringed. "Yes, I got it."

He slapped my phone back into my hand. "Don't try to call 911 again. You know they can't protect you. They probably only got a vague idea of your location from the last cell phone call. Some lat.i.tude and longitude. It'll take them a while to get here. You need to be gone by then. If you aren't, then I'm going to start carving up your little friends."

Then he was gone.

He slammed the door after himself, leaving me alone in the morning light with the dead body of my best friend. I slid down the wall, giving in to my sobs. I didn't have the strength to hold myself up anymore.

I slid into a dark, dark hole for several minutes. I cried in a heap on the floor. I felt like I was on the edge of snapping. Something inside me wanted to break, wanted to give in to the agony of everything that had just happened.

And some other part of me knew that I didn't have that luxury.

I got a sheet from my bed. I put it over Naomi's face. I didn't want to look into her dead eyes. "I'm so sorry," I whispered to her. "You didn't deserve this."

With shaking hands, I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts. I might not know where Griffin was, but there was one other person I could call who could maybe help me. I selected Knox's name and hit send.

It rang.

I went back the hall to my bedroom. I pulled a duffle bag out of my closet.

"h.e.l.lo? Leigh? I haven't heard from you in ages."