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She exhaled a huff of air. “If that’s the case, I don’t see why I should have to drop everything and race home just because you’ve gotten spooked.”
My temper snapped. “Nickie, if you don’t come home now, I will get in my car and come and find you, and drag you back here myself. Do you really want all your new friends to see your sister doing that? And you know I will, don’t you? I will grab you by the hair and throw you into the car. Do you understand me?”
I heard her huffing a sigh down the phone.
“God, you are such a fucking bitch,” she spat. “Why the hell couldn’t I have had a normal family?”
“Don’t you think I wish the same thing?”
“Oh, I know you wish you didn’t have me as a sister. I bet you wished you’d pulled the trigger when you had the chance.”
Her words felt like a knife in my side, physically winding me, making me inhale before I could answer.
I couldn’t argue with her; how could I? She always had this immense, unforgivable thing to hold over me, and there was nothing I could do or say because everything she was feeling and thinking about me was the same as I’d felt and thought about myself a million times over.
I gritted my teeth. “Just come home, Nickie, please. Don’t make me have to come out there and find you.”
The phone went dead and I let out a yell of frustration. I wanted to throw the phone against the wall, but I needed it in case something happened and she needed to call me.
Was there anything worse than trying to protect a person who didn’t think they needed your protection?
Now what the hell was I supposed to do?
I put my head in my hands, trying to think. I imagined normal women would cry in this situation—tears of frustration and fear for their sibling. My eyes burned hot with unshed tears, and I knew they would be tears that wouldn’t come. It had been years since I’d last cried at something—I couldn’t even remember a time when crying was a normal reaction for me. Maybe I’d simply forgotten how.
We needed to get out of here; that much was clear. Whoever was running the two dead men would be back for us, and my father would soon realize X hadn’t done his job either.
I didn’t want to run. Doing so would mean I wouldn’t be testifying any time soon, and I had so badly wanted to look that man in the face and tell him what a fucking bastard he was and how much I hated him. I could go to the deputy and ask that we be relocated again, with new identities, but I didn’t trust him in the slightest. There were other U.S. Marshals, but how deep had the leak gone? How many of them were being run by my father’s gang?
I knew Nickie wasn’t going to be happy about running, but I was left with no choice now.
Unless I turned this around and became the hunter rather than the hunted.
But my father was in prison—though obviously still able to communicate with the outside world in order to send X to find me.
How was I supposed to stop a man who, by all accounts, had already been stopped?
