Chapters (65)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- 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
- Forty–one
- Forty–two
- Forty–three
- Forty–four
- Forty–five
- Forty–six
- Forty–seven
- Forty–eight
- Forty–nine
- Fifty
- Fifty–one
- Fifty–two
- Fifty–three
- Fifty–four
- Fifty–five
- Fifty–six
- Fifty–seven
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- Also by Becky Masterman
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
Back to the moment, I had the presence of mind to grab the sandwich bag out of my pocket and use it to pick the gun up off the floor where it had dropped, too late yelling Run at Carlo to both get him out of the room and to draw Beaufort’s attention toward me. I was glad he had fired the shots and there would be residue on his hand, not mine. We had struggled with the weapon, I thought. I pointed the weapon at his heart, trying to get in a good shot. It was hard to aim because he was twisting about so. On top of that, I couldn’t press the trigger with my burning index finger and was attempting to do so with my right-hand ring finger instead.
But I hadn’t figured on Carlo. He rushed forward and went to Beaufort. Beaufort grabbed for Carlo’s arm with hands reddened and raw from touching the acid in the plastic bag.
“Don’t touch him,” I yelled over his screaming.
Carlo knelt, keeping his hands raised as if wanting to help Beaufort but not knowing what would help and what would hurt. When he heard me yell, he got off the floor and stood in my way. When I moved a little, so did he.
“Step aside,” I said, my vision tunneling through him to the man on the floor.
There was a look on his face that had about a hundred different thoughts in it as his eyes focused on my mouth. Some of the thoughts might have been about what was making me smile. Was it my triumph at having won? Revenge? Divine justice, the pleasure of playing God? Whatever my feelings, my smile seemed to freeze Carlo in place between Beaufort and me.
Then it was Carlo’s turn to speak. “No,” he said, just loudly enough to be heard over Beaufort’s yelling.
My vision cleared and I saw him.
“Don’t do it,” he said, probably not loudly enough to be heard over the screaming, which is why I said, “What?”
“You may not kill this man,” he said, this time with a voice commanding a person he didn’t know. Two strangers.
“Why not?” I asked, even in that adrenaline-charged moment knowing how I was simply stalling. I was going to kill that man, and I wanted Carlo for once to see who, what, I am.
“Because he can’t harm us now,” Carlo said. “You’re not saving me anymore.”