Page 12

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Page 12

Author: B.B. Hamel

Category: Young Adult

Go to read content:https://readnovelfree.com/p/36820_12 

Which I knew all too well.

“Nobody told me—” he started, but I interrupted him.

“I’m telling you right now. Where’s the shipment coming in?”

He looked around like someone might help him, but I chose this spot for a reason—none of the other Doyle guys came here. This was my only chance to catch Tully alone, and yeah, it was messed up, I was bullying the youngest guy with the information I needed, but Connor’s life was on the line.

If Tully knew that, he’d tell me. I knew he’d tell me. Everyone loved Connor, especially Tully. They were the same age, came up together, hung out all the time, and he was wrecked when Connor was killed.

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Supposedly killed, anyway.

“Fine, okay, but please, please, please, don’t get me in trouble.” Tully visibly deflated. “There’s an abandoned middle school in Mt. Airy. Truck drops off there.”

“Where, exactly?”

“You think they tell me that? It’s an abandoned middle school, that’s all I know. That’s all they told me, okay? Tell your dad that’s all I know. I really don’t need to get in trouble for this shit, Fiona.”

“I’ll tell him you did good.” I gave him my best smile and stood up. He glared at me and picked up his magazine. “Thanks, Tully. Seriously.”

“Whatever. Tell your dad I deserve a raise.”

I laughed and waved and left, practically skipping along.

An abandoned middle school in Mt. Airy. It wasn’t an address, but it would have to do—there couldn’t be that many abandoned middle schools in an affluent suburb. Renzo might not like that I didn’t have more, but that would have to be enough.

I smiled to myself as I stepped out into the sunshine and began to walk back toward home. I got what I needed, even if I took a little risk in using my dad to get it. That hadn’t been subtle, and if I was going to keep doing this spy thing, I’d have to get better at it.

Unless I didn’t have to.

I thought of Mack again. His offer. His hands on my arm. His lips on mine.

I pushed the memory away.

I couldn’t go there. God, not yet.

The problem was hope.

Mack gave me hope.

His offer was insane, of course. I couldn’t disappear—as soon as I did, my family would notice and come looking. Renzo would notice, and he’d definitely search me out, or maybe he’d assume I ran off, and kill Connor as revenge. The Lionettis were petty like that.

So disappearing wasn’t an option.

But working with Mack?

I touched my lips with my fingertips for the hundredth time and didn’t notice the guy come walking toward me into it was too late.

I half turned, frowning. He was way too close—

I saw a black jacket, black jeans, an ugly, swollen face.

Then he swung a baseball bat at my head.

I flinched and threw my arms up. That probably saved my life. The bat nailed me in the elbow and glanced off my ear. I gasped in pain and dropped to the ground. The guy was big, heavy around his gut with meaty shoulders and a thick double chin. He raised the bat again to smash it down on me, and I saw him crushing my skull right there on the sidewalk, murdering me in broad daylight, beating me to death for—for what? I had no clue, I didn’t understand what was happening, and a piercing pain ripped up my arm when I tried to move it, tried to raise my hands to defend myself—

Until another figure slammed into my attacker from the side.

There was a grunt and a struggle. I managed to sit up and gaped as Mack punched the fat man in the throat once, twice, and kicked him in the chest. He wrenched the baseball bat away and smashed it down into the guy’s skull.

It made a sickening thud and the big man let out a wheezing groan. Blood leaked from his nose and eyes.

I scrambled backwards, trying to get away. Mack turned to me, handsome and horrible. He smiled, head tilted, and I gasped in pain as I put weight on my elbow.

Mack walked to me and stooped over, offering a hand. He smiled, his head haloed in the sunlight.

“We should get out of here before the cops come,” he said softly, tilting his head. “Unless you feel like pressing charges? Although I doubt there’s much left of him.”

“No,” I whispered, and reached out.

He helped me up. I gasped and grabbed at my elbow as he hustled me down the block, through curious onlookers, and around the corner. He went fast, pulling me along, and I struggled to keep up.

My elbow felt broken and each step was agony.

We reached his car three blocks away. Mack helped me in then got behind the wheel. He started driving, seemingly taking turns at random, but slowly working away from the scene of the crime.

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