The Switch by JC Emery Read Free Book Online Page A

deadly.
    Chase pushes in front of me refusing to be ignored. The man at the door gives him a look. Br oad, unrelenting, he will not be moved from his post. But Chase is not a man who is going to give up.
    “ Miss Brignac is with me. Now, we can settle this outside—right here in the alley—or we can take it inside. Fewer witnesses.”
    The tense set of Chase ’s shoulders tells me he is willing to do what he has to do to get through the door. Both men reach for their guns one after the other and stand with their feet shoulder width apart, back ever so slightly arched. The doorman finally gives in, letting us through. Chase looks in first, then takes my hand in his.
    Inside the warehouse, it ’s dark, the only illumination from small lights that line the wall right to the tip of the ceiling. The outside walls are all decaying red brick with interspersed chunks of painted brick. We walk into a large room. It is barren except for three long wooden workstations that must each be at least ten feet in length. To the right, I see two hallways. Down each hallway appears to be a series of doors. Where they lead, I have no clue. When Chase decides we are satisfactorily inside of the warehouse, he comes to a stop. From my vantage point, Victor is nowhere to be found.
    The doorman’s heavy footfalls sound behind us and come around to our side. He nods his head toward the nearest hallway. I take a step forward, aligning myself with Chase. A quick glance at his face tells me he is no more comfortable walking down the hallway with Mr. Grumpy Pants than I am. Chase locks his jaw and then lets it go slack again. He repeats this motion several times. I try to think of a plan on the spot—something which has always been my strong suit—but right here, in this moment, my nerves are completely shot. I can’t think of a damned thing to do.
    “ Where’s Victor?” Chase asks. The man from the door turns around, his jaw set in frustration. His eyes level on Chase and then dip down to me, to Chase, and back to me again.
    “ You really screwed up this time, Shelby.”
    I didn ’t know my body could get any tenser. Nerves roll over my shoulders, slipping down my spine. A sudden intake of breath and I find myself squeezing Chase’s hand. Clearly I have screwed up. Dating Victor was screwing up. Making a run for Victor was screwing up. Thinking I could fix the situation on my own was screwing up. Obviously there’s one thing I’m really good at, and that’s screwing up. I want to tell him that he doesn’t know me. I want to tell him to shut his stupid mouth. I want to curse him out in three different languages, two of which I don’t even know. I don’t get the chance.
    “ Hey! You’ve got a problem—you get an attitude, you get it with me. Leave her the fuck alone.”
    Chase ’s voice is raspy and sounds like it’s been dragged over gravel. I’m not entirely sure if this is as angry as he can possibly be, though I do know if it’s not, then I have no desire to see how angry Chase can get. Even though I reckon it takes a lot to really piss him off, I have no doubt the man before him has done that very thing. I can only hope that Chase can keep his cool, Victor can see reason, and Victor’s lackey doesn’t cause me more problems—or worse, cost Becca her life.
    A standoff ensues.
    Victor appears in the nearest hallway, a short shadow covering his tracks. In his right hand is the gun, his left hand behind him. Faint pleas for help, or even prayers for mercy, echo in the hole. I would know the sounds of those sniffles anywhere—it is Becca. As Victor walks beneath the overhead lighting, I can clearly see his face. His jaw is set, and his eyes are void of any compassion, love, or concern. Not that I would say our relationship ever had any love in it.
    “ You don’t waste any time, do you, Shelby?”
    I hear something just barely come from Chase . It sounds strangled, angry. Feral even. From far across the warehouse, I don’t