41
Paige
“Do you plan on running?” Jaxson asks.
“What other choice do I have? I worked for Vance! Moreno will never forgive me, and as long as Vance is alive, I’ll always be a pawn to him, a tool he can use to hurt Moreno. Next time he may not let me go, and I’ve heard he murdered Serene and Laura. I won’t be next.”
While I’m not sure whether he specifically murdered Serene and Laura or his men did, he’s still fully responsible for their deaths.
Jaxson presses his lips together. “Might I make a suggestion?”
I fold my arms defensively across my chest. “What?”
“Talk to Moreno before you leave.”
I don’t want to admit to Jaxson or anyone that I’m afraid of how Moreno will react when he finds me.
“That’s not a good idea,” I say as I shuffle toward the door. The sooner I leave, the farther I can get before he shows up looking for Nova.
Coming to Ariella and Jaxson’s home was the first place I thought to go, which means Moreno will have the same idea. It’s no secret that Ariella and I have become friends.
“We’ve got company!” Ariella calls from the living room.
I haven’t heard the door yet. Maybe she’s looking out the window?
“Stay here,” Jaxson instructs as he heads out of the bedroom and shuts the door behind himself.
I hurry toward the window in the bedroom and glance through the blinds.
My stomach is in knots as I catch sight of Moreno stepping out of his SUV. I think I’m going to be sick.
Scratch that. I know I’m going to be sick.
I want to run.
Maybe I should.
Moreno heads to the front door, and I open the window and climb out, making a beeline for the SUV I borrowed earlier.
I dig the keys out of my pocket and jump into the vehicle, hitting the start button for the engine. I put the SUV in drive, and the front door of Ariella’s home flings open.
Moreno stands there, watching me as I slam on the gas.
All I see in his gaze is disappointment.
And maybe anger mixed in.
He’s not happy to see me. Why would I expect him to be?
My tires squeal, and Moreno removes his gun from his hip and points it at the car as he approaches.
He’s not really going to shoot me.
Is he?
He fires several rounds at the ground, blowing the tires before I can leave the driveway.
I slam my fist on the steering wheel.