Sticky (17 page)

I
count
my breaths in seconds. Inhale, one, two, three, four, five. Exhale for the same. Stay calm, stay focused.

Sloan is freaking out, Sloan is practically screaming at Freddie, and he’s right where we planned for him to be, dead center in the room, and Aaron’s fist is closing around the cast, and mine is sinking deeper into my pocket. Ripping through the lining, through the part of my suit that Topknot and his dumbass friends patted down eagerly. Into the second, hidden pocket within. To the strap against my inner thigh, the bulge I guess they didn’t bother to notice.

Aaron spins the dials on the case, and I gently ease the gun from its holster, feeling without looking for the safety, snapping it off.

Aaron lifts the lid of the case, licking his pursed lips, greed sparkling in his beady black eyes.

Aaron stares at an empty briefcase, and slowly, slowly, raises his eyes to Freddie.

I’m faster.

I whip the gun from my pocket and jam the barrel against his head. “Nobody fucking move,” I shout, because three of his goonies jumped at once, all of them reaching for their own pieces, strapped a little too obviously on their hips.

I cock the trigger, and Aaron flinches. I smile, for the first time in twenty-four hours.

“Stand down,” he says, his voice even. But from this close to him, I can see the beads of sweat forming along his forehead. He might look and sound calm, but oh, I guarantee you he’s shitting himself right now.

Good.

His men reluctantly release their weapons, though I shoot a glance over my shoulder at the men behind me too. “You, move around front.”

They all glare at me, a dozen narrowed eyes, as they circle around to stand in a line in front of me, hands rising in the air when I tell them to.

“If you don’t want your boss to die,” I say, very slowly for the idiots at the back of the room, “you’re going to turn your backs to me and put your hands flat on that far wall.”

They hesitate. Maybe I used words that were too big.

But Aaron finally nods, one of the beads of sweat creeping down his cheek. “Do as he says.” Then they move, all of them, hands flat on the wall, spines toward me.

One glance at Freddie tells me he’s already on top of his part of the bargain. Pulling Sloan toward the exit, fast as they can walk.

“You’re not going to get out of this room alive, you know,” Aaron tells me, and it’s in the same confident, fucking infuriating voice that he always uses when Aaron knows best. But this time, I can see right through his façade. This time, I know he’s backed into a corner. Desperate.

“What, you think they’ll shoot me if I kill you?” I ask him, pretending to mull this over as I survey their spines. “I dunno. What’s their incentive? If you die, there goes their paycheck.”

“There are contingencies in place. You know this. They know this.”

“Right, contingencies. Which one of these idiots did you entrust the business fortune to, in the event of your untimely demise? Was it Topknot over there? Or?”

Aaron grits his teeth. I can hear the molars crack from here. “This is suicide, Hunter. You know you’ll never make it out the front doors. And if the FBI is parked outside, they’ll nab you on murder the second you do.”

I shrug. “Probably. Be worth it, though.”

God, I enjoy the way his pupils dilate when I say that. His breath catches in his throat, his eyes widen, and he’s really, honestly preparing himself to meet his maker.

Too bad. I’m not letting him off that easy.

One last glance at the door shows me Fred and Sloan are through it. I slam the pistol into Aaron’s temple, one quick sharp blow, and as his body crumples to the floor, unconscious, I’m already sprinting for the exit.

“Move!” I shout at Fred and Sloan’s backs as I charge out of the room. They’re already walking fast, but now we run, all three of us, feet pounding, Sloan’s gait awkward as she tries to keep her balance, hands still tied.

“This way,” she calls over her shoulder, taking the lead. She crashes through a door I wouldn’t have even noticed, a hidden panel in the side wall, and I have to thank god for a moment that I picked not only the hottest, sexiest woman on the planet to fall into this insane trap with, but that she’s also smart as hell.

We wrench the door closed behind us, and only now do I catch the faint sounds of pursuit, pounding feet on carpet. As predicted, it took the Topknot Squad a few minutes to collect themselves and figure out what the hell was going on.

They’re nothing if not predictable.

We fly down the stairs two at a time until we hit the bottom, and Fred skids to a halt for just long enough to grab a nearby pipe from the assortment of basement odds and ends down here in this dead end. He jams it into the chain of the cuffs, once, twice, three strikes and the chain shatters, and Sloan has her arms back.

We hit the emergency exit at full speed, just as we hear feet clatter onto the top story of the staircase. An alarm sounds as we crash through the door, but at this point, who cares, the whole casino is on high alert.

“Where are the cops?” Sloan gasps between breaths, as we sprint out of the back of the casino into an empty field, our feet sticking and sliding in the mud between the few scarce patches of grass.

“Not coming,” Freddie manages to reply, grabbing her hand and tugging her around the side of the casino, toward the parking lot that wraps around the east wing.

“What?” she shouts, but to her credit, she doesn’t stop running. I trail after them, half an eye over my shoulder on the exit door. Any second now, we’re going to have company.

“How . . . are we . . . getting out of here?” she spits out, just as we round the corner into the parking lot, which only has about three cars in it.

One of which is a sporty little hot pink convertible, top down, engine revving.

For the first time all day, I watch Sloan stutter to a halt, shocked. It’s almost sweet, how nothing surprised her until this. But there’s no time for that. I grab her elbow and pull her into the car, Fred and I leaping over the doors, Sloan opening the rear to climb into the back seat, as her neighbor Lacey catches her eye in the rearview mirror.

“Heard you all needed a lift,” she says with a wide, shit-eating grin.

Thank god for crazy neighbors.

Then shots explode in the air behind us, and a dozen men barrel around the corner from the back of the casino.

Lacey hits the gas, we all hit the back of our seats, and the tires screech as we fly out of there, pedal to the metal.

“
I
don’t understand
,” I shout over the scream of the wind. Lacey takes another corner so hard I almost fall off the back seat. I have enough time to scrabble for the seat belt, jam it into its socket, and brace myself against the driver’s seat in front of me before she hits another corner and we squeal around it, leaving tire tracks branded into the road behind us.

“Your boy here explained your predicament,” Lacey shouts over her shoulder, flashing a wink at Gage. “Everything that creep was threatening to do to you in there. Of course I said I’d help out.”

She floors the gas again, and we roar down streets with a speed limit of thirty at most. I guess at this point, being pulled over by the police would actually help us, though, so who cares.

“But what happened to the FBI? Weren’t they supposed to help you?” I glance back and forth between Freddie and Gage, but both of them avoid my eye, staring out the window or down passing streets. Or, in Gage’s case, over his shoulder at the road behind us.

“Heads up,” he says, without answering my question. I whip my head around to follow his gaze, and recognize the black SUV that was once parked outside my apartment, hot on our tail.

“Hold on,” Lacey tells us through gritted teeth. Gritted smiling teeth, I might add. I’d almost swear she’s enjoying this.

She downshifts hard, throws the e-brake and whips the wheel around. We do a 180, just as the SUV was almost caught up to us. It blows past, tires squealing as it tries to compensate, to brake and follow us, but we’re already taking off again, turning down a smaller side road, then whipping through windier and windier neighborhoods, off the grid of Atlantic City proper into the suburbs.

“Where the hell are we going?” I ask, heart in my throat, after several minutes have passed, and it seems like maybe—
maybe
—we lost our tail.

“One pit stop to make,” Gage says.

Lacey catches his eye in the rearview. “I left the car you asked for outside,” she says. “Like you told me. Rented under a different name than this one.” She pats the wheel fondly, a broad smile stretching her lips. “Which, by the way, thanks for. I’ve always wanted to take one of these babies for a spin.”

Freddie, for his part, is staring at Lacey like she’s an alien with two heads.

A really sexy alien with two heads.

“Where the hell did you learn to drive like this?”

She flashes him a grin and takes the next corner a little gentler. I only skid a few inches across the seat, rather than nearly falling out of it entirely.

“Grew up on farm,” she says. “Not a lot else to do out on those backroads. You think this is impressive, you should see me tackle a cornfield in a mower.”

The tires screech one last time, and I can’t say I’m not relieved when we brake outside a large building, finally coming to a standstill for the first time since we jumped into this death trap.

“Here you are,” she says.

I frown in confusion. We’re parked outside . . . a hospital?

But Gage and Freddie are already jumping out of their doors, so I guess there’s nothing left for it but to follow. I pause halfway out my door to lean over the seat and hug Lacey hard from behind.

“Thank you,” I tell her. “Seriously.”

“Hey, what are neighbors for?” She flashes me a wink, then shoves me gently toward the doors. “Go on. He’s gonna need your help for this one.”

I frown, still not understanding what we’re doing here. Or what the hell just happened in the last hour of my life. One minute I thought I was about to die. Now . . . ?

But I nod at her, waving as she takes off around the corner, driving a little less insanely now. Only a little.

When I glance back, Freddie stands off to one side, and Gage is already entering the sliding doors of the memorial hospital.

“What are we doing here?” I ask Freddie, but he shakes his head.

“Ask him.”

Confused does not begin to describe the riot of emotions warring in my gut right now.

Gage, pretty obviously, just saved my life. Saved my brother’s life while he was at it, too. Yet our lives wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place if not for him.

Or, maybe they would have, but someone else would’ve gotten us into the mess. One of those other faceless idiots. Not him. Not something I actually was falling for. Not someone I trusted. Not someone I gave everything I had to, only to be chewed up and spat out in return.

Maybe Gage had the right motivations all along, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a criminal. He worked with Aaron for years before I met him. He’s not trustworthy.

I cannot trust him. And if I cannot trust him, how can I love him?

I stare at his back as he speaks to the front desk woman. I stare for so long, so intently, that it takes me a long time to realize he’s having a conversation with the woman. A conversation that’s making the woman’s eyes go wide, and her mouth fall open in seeming shock.

I shake myself, and inch closer to him.

“You’re sure?” she’s saying. “Absolutely sure.”

“It’s time,” he says. “It’s been time for a while, honestly.”

“Then I’ll send the doctors in.” The woman glances at me now, but if she’s curious, she doesn’t say anything. Just spares a small, sad smile for Gage as she waves us past. Freddie lurks in the waiting room, and when I shoot him a curious glance, he just shakes his head. Mouths,
I’ll stay here.

“What are we doing?” I ask as I fall into step beside Gage. The first words I’ve spoken to him since our fight outside the motel room. Since I decided he’d betrayed me. Betrayed Freddie. Damned us both.

“Saying goodbye,” he replies, simply. We reach the door to a small, quiet room in a near-empty wing of the hospital. A rush of memories strike me suddenly. Mom, in her final weeks. In and out of wards. Emergency rooms at first, but later, after it became clear that she wasn’t going to win this fight, a wing like this. Quiet. Almost peaceful.

Full of people waiting to fall asleep for good.

“Sloan, I . . . ” Gage’s voice catches in his throat.

I glance up at him, startled to find his eyes red and bloodshot.

“I know I can never make up for what I did to you. For using you, at first. I hope saving you was . . . I hope that in some way helped, but it still doesn’t make it right.

I do too, even though I’m not quite sure yet what’s going on. What this place is. What we’re doing here.

“Maybe this will help you understand me, a little bit. Why I did what I did.” He pushes open the door, and I blink at the dim, quiet room, empty save for the soft beep of machinery, the mechanical in-out breath of someone deep asleep. And a woman, curled in the middle of the hospital bed sheets, her dark hair fanned around her head, the same color as Gage’s.

“Sloan, this is the reason I agreed to work for Aaron, all those years ago. When she was still . . . still alive. Still awake. He swore he could help her.”

I wet my lips, unsure what to say, how to ask what I want to ask. Turns out I don’t need to. He fills in the obvious blanks for me.

“Sloan, this is my mother.”

W
e don’t stay long
at the hospital. There’s not time for it, and anyway, I’d said everything I needed to say a long time ago. I stopped by today to let her go. To make sure I was the one next to her, and not Aaron, when she finally breathed her last.

But I already grieved. I already made my peace with her death. I hope, maybe, sharing this last moment with Sloan will in some ways make up for everything I could not share with her before. For every lie I told, and every promise I broke. I hope she can understand me now.

That’s probably all I can hope for, but I’ll take it. I’ll take anything that keeps me from being just one bad nightmare memory in her mind, if we don’t wind up together. If she leaves me now, I’ll completely understand, but maybe, just maybe, she’ll remember me fondly.

From the hospital, we take the rental car Lacey got us and hit the turnpike. In Elizabeth, far enough away from Atlantic City that they won’t trace us too quickly, Freddie pulls over at a rest stop and borrows their phone in the back room.

Sloan hovers over his shoulder, an anxious frown on her face, as we both listen to him recite the story. He tells the police that the wire recordings are already in their mailbox. He and I dropped them off this morning, before we met at the casino, what already feels like a lifetime ago.

Sloan’s frown deepens, though, as Freddie tells them that Aaron has the money. She glances at me, and I tap a finger to my lips. Let her brother play this last one out, I want to say. We’re so close.

“You’re sure?” Freddie is saying. “It’ll be enough to arrest him on?”

Whatever they say on the other end, it must be reassuring, because he sinks back in his seat, visible relief spreading across his features.

At that, Sloan leaves him to it, storms across the small gas station back room to grab my arm and drag me out into the convenience store. I check the mirror in the corner, the one the store owner uses to watch for pickpockets, but there’s no one else in the store aside from the cashier, who’s sitting on the counter texting.

“What the hell is going on?” Sloan hisses under her breath. “Why didn’t the FBI come this morning? Why did Freddie tell them Aaron has the money? That case was empty.”

“Your brother requested witness protection guarantees for all three of us,” I say.

“And? So what?” She tosses her head.

God, I love it when she gets sassy like this. “And they turned down his request.”

She groans loudly. “Great. They didn’t even send in anyone for him today either, is that it? They just wanted to let my brother get murdered so they’d have an easier case to pin on Aaron?”

I bob my head from side to side. “I doubt they would phrase it quite like that, but . . . that’s about how it looked to me and him, when we heard their reply, yeah.”

She tosses her hands in the air. “What the hell do we do now?”

Now, I can’t help it anymore. Now, the grin I’ve been holding back, the olly olly oxen free that’s been building in me all day, every time we got away with another thing we should never have been able to pull off—losing the tails, making it this far out of Atlantic City, planting the wires with the cops. Watching Freddie relax when he heard that Aaron was really going to be arrested.

Sloan stares at me. Sloan starts to smile too, though I can tell she’s fighting it, that she doesn’t want to give in and mirror me right now, or find this in any way amusing. “No,” she says, though the budding smile betrays her. “No, you guys, tell me you fucking did not.”

“Five hundred thou is a lot of money, darlin’.” I shrug one shoulder. “Would be a shame to let it fall into the wrong hands.”

I’m not sure if it’s actual happiness or just hysteria, but when she launches herself at me, arms extended, I can’t resist. I catch her in a tight embrace, pull her body hard against mine and breathe in the sweet, familiar scent of her, my head bent over hers, my nose buried in her long black hair.

This, this is what I’ve been fighting for all these years. This is what’s really worth giving up everything for. I’m not really giving anything up, when you think about it, because she’s the entire world to me.

She shifts against me and I can’t stand the strain in my gut, the stirring in my blood. I want to drag her into the restroom right now, fuck decency. I want to remind her that she is mine and I am hers, and if we’re together, we don’t need anything else but this.

Then she stiffens. Seems to remember herself, remember me, and she tugs away before I can draw her in tighter.

“So what’s the plan?” she asks, arms crossed over her chest, eyes averted. Oh, she feels it too. This pull between us. She wants me every ounce as much as I want her, whether she’s going to admit it or not.

That, alone, is enough to give me hope. To make the smile come back, even though there’s still a gap between us. Because, I realize, it’s a gap I can close.

“Well, we were talking about that.” I cast a glance toward the back room. “How do you feel about colder climates?