Shooting Scars: The Artists Trilogy 2 by Karina Halle Read Free Book Online Page B

smell or the fact that all the shades were drawn but I suddenly knew I wasn’t alone.
    I suddenly knew the reason why Sophia stayed in the car.
    I suddenly knew there would be no new life for me.
    Not if I didn’t act on instinct.
    Now.
    Before there was a shuffle, the sound of a gun’s cartridge being handled, and the exhale of breath, I ducked. A gun fired from somewhere behind the couch. My own gun was out of reach, tucked away in the car’s glove compartment. I had to improvise.
    I rolled out of the way and sprang to my feet in time to meet the face of one of Sophia’s brothers. He was the one I called sloppy seconds or “Not Vincent.” I was taller than Not Vincent and a fuckload angrier. Before he could fire again, I brought my elbow down between his eyes until I heard the crunch of cartilage. Then I struck him in the throat, driving his Adam’s apple in until he and his gun dropped to the floor. Out of my reach. I had no time to think or act before launching myself over the couch right before another gun went off.
    “Camden,” it was Vincent, his slimy, manipulative voice. “This can end now.”
    I kept my mouth shut. I had nothing to say to him, no bargains to be made. I heard him take a step closer, coming from maybe Ben’s room. In the distance there were a few cries, worried neighbors. This was going to all happen fast, before the cops showed up. Vincent was in a hurry. He planned to kill me now, make it look like I was a break-in. A domestic dispute. Perhaps Sophia would back his claim and the brothers would look heroic.
    “This bullet can go straight through the couch.”
    He was right. Fuck Ikea for making such flimsy furniture. I listened for the sounds of Not Vincent, trying to gauge if he was still a threat to me. He’d fallen so fast—had I killed him? I couldn’t hear him sputtering.
    Vincent went on, sounding breezy, apparently not caring that his brother was hurt or possibly dead. “I’m giving you a few seconds to tell us where the rest of the checks are. The checks with my money.”
    “You already have your money,” I grunted, trying to breathe in and out, trying to get oxygen into my brain.
Think, Camden, think.
    “What Javier gave me was a bonus,” he said, closer now. Maybe just a few feet away. He was right behind me and he wasn’t pulling the trigger until I gave him the answer. “I still want what you dared to steal from me.”
    “Was all the money worth handing over your only sister and nephew to a drug lord?” I spat out.
    Vincent chuckled. “It was practically Sophia’s idea.”
    The room froze. It was hard to breathe.
    “Aren’t you tired of people fucking you over?” he went on.
    Apparently, I hadn’t been tired enough.
    My eyes fought through the disgust that had lodged itself in my chest and drifted to the floor. One of Ben’s toys, a robotic dog, was lying a foot away from me, half covered by the couch’s slipcover.
    “I don’t know where the rest of the checks are,” I said while my arm slowly reached over. My fingers curled around the toy.
    “You’re lying,” Vincent said. Now he was right on the other side of the couch. I could practically feel his breath. If he took one more little step, he’d be able to see me, hands on the robotic dog, my shoulder pressed against the couch back. He would see me waiting.
    Ready.
    “You couldn’t cash them anyway,” I told him. “They’re all in Ellie’s name.”
    “Then I’ll make her cash them for me.”
    That would have been a believable threat if I hadn’t known that Ellie was with Javier.
    “I’m afraid you’d have to go through another psychopath first,” I sneered.
    “You really are naïve, aren’t you, tat boy? What makes you think that wouldn’t be a problem? What makes you think this isn’t all part of the plan?”
    Plan? I shook my head, refusing to be riled up by him. He knew all the right buttons to push. “All of this for forty grand.”
    “Easy money gets you rich,” he said.