Chapters (46)
- COVER PAGE
- PRAISE
- DEDICATION
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- SNEAK PEEK: EXIT .45
She looked away, crushed a fistful of paper shreds. ‘Just get out of here.’
‘What are you going to do?’
She shrugged. ‘We have passports.’ She swallowed. ‘Money.’
Vincent said, ‘I don’t think they offer any permanent solutions.’
She didn’t answer.
Vincent said, ‘Thirty million bucks isn’t the kind of money people just write off. They’ll always be looking for you, and you’ll always have a feeling that maybe you’re not safe.’
She looked him up and down. A sort of forlorn knowing in her eyes. ‘And what? You can help?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sorry. I don’t think so.’
From reception Page called, ‘I still can’t find mine.’
Natasha said, ‘Please just go.’
He waited there another moment, in case she had a change of heart. She wouldn’t meet his eye. He thought about dragging her out with him. He wasn’t quite sure where that would fall on the deed spectrum. Maybe the informed choice of adults was always sacrosanct.
Vincent said, ‘All right.’
He got up and headed back toward reception. Erin was standing at the end of the corridor. ‘Is she okay?’
Vincent said, ‘I think we better leave.’
Page had the duffel bag upturned, the contents in a mound at his feet. Socks, a shirt, a Tom Clancy novel. One of the trophies from his office. Fat rolls of cash, secured with rubber bands. He said, ‘Why didn’t you just shoot them?’
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-SEVEN
Going down in the elevator, Erin looking at the floor and Vincent watching the numbers counting backward, he asked if she was all right. She seemed to be coping with it in standard Erin fashion, but what did that even mean? It was so hard to get a read on her.
She nodded. ‘Yeah. I’m all right.’
‘Where’d you get the gun, anyway?’
‘Tanner kept it in the car.’
‘That might’ve been a good thing to tell me.’
They made it down to the ground floor without taking on more passengers, and Vincent said, ‘I gather we’re not calling the police.’
‘No. They’ll want us to spend five hours sitting at a precinct, waiting to be interviewed. I think I can do without it, personally.’
She pushed through the turnstile ahead of him and went outside. Vincent followed her across Wilshire at the light, and they walked along to the Range Rover and got in.
Erin said, ‘Do you think they were going to kill them, or just scare them?’
She was up front again, beside him.
Vincent said, ‘Maybe both. You look Gutierrez in the eye, you can’t see the bottom. I think one way or the other they wanted to keep Page quiet.’
She said, ‘I should’ve shot them.’