Bang Bang by Rachel van Dyken

Author:Rachel van Dyken [Dyken, Rachel Van]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Coming of Age, Romance, New Adult & College, Romantic Suspense, Mystery & Suspense, Suspense, mafia, contemporary, new adult
Amazon: B00MIA63WE
Barnesnoble: B00MIA63WE
Goodreads: 22896298
Publisher: Rachel Van Dyken
Published: 2014-09-06T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Amy

I DIDN’T REMEMBER him being so perceptive. I wasn’t stupid. And I really didn’t take him for being stupid either. I knew, to an extant, how things worked. He would deliver me to the boss, thinking everything would be okay.

And I would die.

No loose ends.

They didn’t do loose ends.

Ax was only doing his job — and in the end I couldn’t blame him for wanting to save me. He always did have a hero complex. But he didn’t realize by bringing me to the very people I was running from, he’d be dooming me in the process. I had no idea what they wanted with me.

Correction… I had no idea if what I thought they wanted was what they actually wanted.

And if I was right — there was no helping me. So why get more attached? Why allow myself the fairy tale of Ax… when in another twenty-four hours the man I loved could very well be the man to pull the trigger? It would hurt less if there were only two kisses — at least that’s what I told myself.

Anyone capable of killing his own cousin would kill me. He wouldn’t want to. He would be tortured, maybe try to turn the gun on himself, and then I would have to be brave. I would have to follow through. Because I couldn’t let him keep sacrificing for me to live. My life wasn’t worth enough — his was.

“Ames…” Ax’s voice was low, gravelly… so many memories were attached to that voice. Memories that had my body aching. I wanted his hands on me again. I wanted his mouth everywhere.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing bad is going to happen. You know that, right?”

What delusional world did he live in? The mafia showed no mercy.

“Sure.”

“Ames.”

“Just drive.” I forced a smile. “How much longer do we have anyway?”

He laughed. “Uh, try around eight hours and that means we get in around two in the morning.”

“Fantastic,” I grumbled.

“Hey, at least you don’t have to sit next to someone on the plane while they pull their shoes off.”

“People do that on planes?”

“Not the ones I go in… then again taking a private jet down to get you would have been a little… extravagant.”

“You think?”

His grin was toxic, so beautiful… my chest ached as I reached for his hand. He held it tight, no hesitation.

Then again, he wasn’t a man of hesitation.

If he was… he’d be dead.

Eight hours. I had eight hours to hold his hand, to remember his touch, to memorize the lines of his face.

My life used to be defined by the sound of gunshots… and now? It was defined by sand sifting through the hourglass. I was powerless to stop it as it fell through my fingers.

But hey, at least I knew I had time left. Time to be with him. Time to be happy. For the first time in five years I was happy.

And all he was doing was squeezing my hand.

We talked for hours about nothing important. He asked if I still liked Chinese, I asked if he still hated it.

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