Proof of Lies (Anastasia Phoenix) by Diana Rodriguez Wallach

Author:Diana Rodriguez Wallach [Wallach, Diana Rodriguez]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Ally Carter, Embassy Row, Jason Bourne, international thriller, Italy, The DaVinci Code, murder
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2017-03-07T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

I might have passed out. I could remember floating, letting go, then suddenly I was jolted back to consciousness by the feel of a knife on my right biceps. The pain was sharp, but it returned the air to my lungs.

I breathed. Coughing, hacking, gulping at the rain-clogged air, my fingers clawing at my slick throat.

Then I heard the screaming male voices. “Stop… Get away… I already called the police!” The voices sounded far off in the distance, but when I fluttered my eyes, I saw Marcus looming down, directly above me. “Are you all right?” His words sounded warped. Was it the rain? My ears?

He lifted me to my feet. “Can you stand?”

My legs straightened underneath me. Apparently, I could.

Luis. Where was Luis? My head darted around, and a nausea-inspiring bout of wooziness took over. I clutched Marcus’s shoulder to remain steady and saw the blood pouring down my upper arm. Then I spied Luis standing calmly by the passenger side of his car; a pocketknife dripping crimson hung by his leg. He’d cut me.

I glanced at my wound; it didn’t look deep. Marcus had saved me. How?

“A little something to remember me by.” Luis nodded to my bleeding gash, grinning like he’d had a blast on a roller coaster—despite a missing tooth. “See you in Rome.”

Then he winked.

I blinked, trying to think of what to say, trying to process what had happened, but Marcus was already shoving me toward a motorbike idling a few feet away. “Can you hang on?” he asked as he threw me onto the padded leather seat, hopping in front and revving the engine. It didn’t seem like he was waiting to find out.

I reached my hands around his sopping waist, noticing for the first time that my messenger bag was slung around his chest. He must have grabbed it from the ground. Keira’s ring. My eyes futilely searched the ground for the tiny gold bit of my sister, but I’d lost it. I’d almost lost my life.

Marcus peeled off, the air reeking of rubber as tires kicked up a cloud of wet gravel. I looked back expecting to see Luis’s car in pursuit, threatening to ram us off the cliff, only as I peered through a haze of grit and raindrops, warm blood streaking my arm, through my fingers, I caught Luis standing motionless beside his grimy car. A gun was pointed at our heads, a smile on his face, rain dripping from his features.

But he didn’t fire. He let us get away.

...

We raced down the mountain through the pelting rain in a manner almost as frightening as my battle with an assassin. I kept looking back, searching for headlights, but we were alone on the road. Luis never followed.

We returned the bike to where Marcus had “found” it (its rightful owner unaware), and ran back to the hotel. The bleeding on my arm had begun to slow as we threw our stuff into suitcases (most of which we hadn’t unpacked). Then

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