The Rebel King (All the King's Men Duet #2) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,15
the possibility that someone has found us. That someone is coming for us.
Maxim?
I shift my glance to the monster with the cherubic curls, and for one mad moment, I want to urge him to hurry. To put as much distance between us and our potential rescuer as possible. I’ve seen him kill Paco and the six men on his own team in cold blood and with a heart of stone. He could kill Maxim. My imagination conjures the awful vision of Maxim slumped to the ground, a bullet through his head, that same startled death stare stamped on his face.
“Let’s go,” Abe says, stepping over one of the dead bodies and shoving the gun’s barrel into my side. “Move.”
I step quickly in the direction he pushes me, glancing over my shoulder to see Nixon poke Wallace, who walks up and falls into step beside me. Our backs are to them, and Wallace slants a sideways smile my way, one filled with surreptitious excitement and hope. With a set of malevolent eyes burning blue fire in the back of my head, I don’t even dare smile back.
“I hope we don’t regret going to Plan B so soon,” Nixon says just a little behind us.
“We need to travel light.” Displeasure colors Abe’s voice. “Don’t punk out now.”
“I’m not punking out. I’m just thinking if there’s ten men chasing us, it’ll be good to have some backup.”
“Our contact didn’t make arrangements for a group that size. He’s made arrangements for three.”
Three.
Not four.
A lump of trepidation forms in my throat and I blink at tears. If there is a rescue being staged, it may not be in time to save me.
We march through the brush, and the more distance we put between us and the cave, the more conflicted I feel. Obviously Abe’s men spotted some kind of rescue team heading in our direction. By the time they arrive at the cave, we’ll be long gone. Absorbed into the lining of the hungry forest’s belly. Untraceable.
We’ve walked at a quick pace for about fifteen minutes when we reach the river. The water rushes, the rapids intense and raging. As soon as we wade in, we’ll be taken. They may as well shoot us now if they’re going to toss us to those turbulent waves.
“Go,” Abe tells Nixon with a curt snap of his head toward a cluster of mangled branches. “Get it. Hurry.”
Nixon nods and runs toward the trees.
Abe grabs my chin, tilting my face up and peering down at me with masked malice.
“I’m usually a stickler on deadlines,” he says, evil gleaming from his eyes. “And technically we have another two hours before I’m supposed to kill you, but I’m flexible. I didn’t account for a rescue party. I wonder if it’s Mr. Moneybags?”
I struggle to control my breathing. “Who?”
“The man who tried to negotiate for your life. Apparently, no one told him money doesn’t buy everything. I think I’ll leave your dead body here on the shore to teach him.”
It must have been Maxim. I can’t even imagine his fury, his frustration with Abe’s brand of callous impudence. I’ve never heard the words from Maxim, and he’s never heard them from me, but I know he loves me. And I hope he knows that I love him, too. I thought him having my body would bring some kind of comfort, the way having my mother’s would have for me, but now I don’t think it will, and my heart aches for him.
A yellow raft emerges from the trees bordering the river. Nixon pushes it out to the edge of the water from behind, and then jogs over to join us.
Abe nods toward the boat. “No room where we’re going, lady. This is the end of the road for you.”
“No!” Wallace steps forward, but Abe puts the gun to his forehead.
“I suggest you cooperate or get your head blown off, too,” Abe says, every word like a bullet. “Don’t make me forget I need you.”
“Come on!” Nixon shouts. “We gotta go.”
“Time’s up, pretty lady,” Abe says with mock-woefulness and turns toward Nixon. “Take Doctor Murrow to the boat.”
Wallace grabs my arm even with his hands cuffed. “No. Please.”
Abe shifts the pistol down, aiming at Wallace’s leg. “I could shoot off your knee cap and still get my vaccine.”
“Wallace, go,” I say, my voice soft but insistent.
“I won’t leave you.” Wallace says, his hands tightening. “He’ll have to kill me.”
“Oh, well,” Abe says, shifting the gun to Wallace’s head again. “These things happen.”