Page 79 of Point Blank

“You,” she said. “You’re doing all this to spite Sebastian, when he got the last laugh after all.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The d-diamonds.”

A cloak of ice fell over the inside of the vehicle.

“What about the diamonds?” Angelo’s low hiss sent a shockwave of fear through her limbs. But she couldn’t give up her plan now. She stopped laughing and mopped up the tears that had collected beneath her lower lids.

“Didn’t you open the bag? He took them. When we left Titus’s mansion, Sebastian and his men trapped us and stole the diamonds. I even told him they were for Dani’s ransom—he still made off with them knowing we would have no way to get her back.”

Angelo spun to face her, and the vehicle swerved. “You’re lying!” he lurched for her, and the movement of the vehicle pitched her backward out of his grasp.

“Boss!”

Angelo returned his hands to the wheel.

She smiled and met Ian’s hard stare, then focused on Angelo’s face in the rearview mirror. “He highjacked our heist and made off with your diamonds. The bag we gave you is full of pebbles.”

Angelo reached to the passenger side next to him and produced the velvet satchel. The stones clanked together as he dumped them on the seat. “Goddamn it!” Angelo’s scream shook the vehicle. Numbness crept into Serena’s feet, either from her awkward position on the floor or from terror. There was no taking it back.

She had just sealed their fate.

Chapter

Eighteen

Milo gripped the door handle and vomit hit the back of his throat. Jesus Christ, he hadn’t puked since he was nineteen and he sure as hell wasn’t going to now. He swallowed back the acidic tinge of bile and watched the SUV in front of them swerve back onto the road.

Something had happened.

If Serena had tried something on her attackers, he’d throttle her. It was unlikely they’d shoot her while driving and have evidence splashed all over the interior of their vehicle, but it wasn’t a chance he wanted her to take. She still had the gun—maybe she’d shot them? No. The SUV would have crashed for sure. Milo rubbed his palms on his jeans. Moments before they’d gotten out to meet the kidnappers, he’d been so close to throwing caution to the wind. To ripping his heart open to Serena.

He’d almost told her.

The words had been on his lips. And now he’d never get the chance to say them, to tell her how sorry he was, to tell her that he couldn’t live without her.

“We’re getting close to the interstate. I don’t think Rhett and the cops will make it in time.” The words drifted from Milo’s lips, distant and haggard, as his brain cells fired toward another plan.

“What can we do?” Peyton had been silent until now. Milo didn’t turn to look at her. He feared the SUV would disappear into thin air if he took his eyes off of it. Indecision raged inside him. If they shot out the SUV’s tires, the vehicle would flip—and he’d bet his last bullet that neither Serena nor Dani was wearing her seatbelt. But they couldn’t do nothing. If they didn’t stop them soon, they’d lose the SUV in the city’s tangled streets. The cops would look for the vehicle, but odds were the kidnappers would have Serena and Dani killed before the cops found them.

“Milo,” Brock said, bringing him back to the moment. “I need you to call it. What do you want to do?”

Milo exhaled from his nose. Fuck it. “Get close. I’ll shoot out a tire.”

“No!” Peyton shot forward and gripped the sleeve of his jacket. “They could die.”

He grabbed her wrist, flicking off her hand. He’d made up his mind and for fuck’s sake he didn’t like the decision any more than Peyton did. “Do you have a better idea? Speak up now.”

Her lips snapped shut and her eyes lowered.

Milo nodded at Brock, and he pressed his foot harder on the gas. Milo checked the clip of his Beretta. Satisfied with the number of bullets he had, he rolled down the window and released his seatbelt. He dug his elbow into the frame of the window and hefted his head and shoulders out of the vehicle. Peyton moaned. Milo focused his gaze on the red taillights ahead of him. The wind whipped over his hair and rustled in his ears. He squinted one eye and steadied his hold, but his finger shook on the trigger. The SUV approached a bend and Milo muttered a curse as the truck shifted, throwing off his shot.

“Keep it steady,” he barked.

“Sorry.”

Milo repositioned himself and aimed at the rear tire. He pushed a mouthful of saliva down his throat, but his tongue was as rough as sandpaper. If he killed Serena, he’d never forgive himself.