Squall Line by Gwyn McNamee

Author:Gwyn McNamee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gwyn McNamee

Fourteen

Grace

Warwick slides his phone back in his pocket and merges back onto the road.

That call with Arturo didn’t sound good, at least, the side of it I could hear didn’t.

Which is exactly why I didn’t rat out Warwick when I was in the port offices.

I kept picturing the words he wrote in his journal…

He’s going to kill me one of these days. Kill us all. As soon as we’re of no use to him, we’re gone.

I kept hearing the distress in his voice and those of his friends when they spoke about what would happen if they failed…

This is life and death for them as much as it is for me. If they can pull this off, if they can get the rest of the drugs and get them to Chicago, it’s the best hope for everyone making it out of this alive.

I couldn’t have Warwick’s life on my conscience. Not when he’s proven to me that he won’t hurt me. Not when he’s shown me there’s something more to him. A man who made a shitty choice for what he thought was a good reason.

Maybe that makes me a sucker, someone who can’t help but see the good buried beneath all the bad in someone like him. But what would it make me if I sent him to his death, if I ensured he would end up dead…all because he wanted to save his family business?

Not someone I could live with being.

I just have to trust this will all work out.

He pulls onto the highway.

“Where are we going?”

His dark eyes glance my way. “The hotel your crew is at.”

“Why?”

Isn’t that the last place we should be going? If they see me, if he lets me go and loses any bargaining chip…it’s over.

Warwick doesn’t answer for what feels like miles. I squirm in my seat and watch the city fly by.

“I’m letting you go.”

I freeze. “What? Why?”

He can’t be serious. If he lets me go, and if the crew or I talk, then all of this was for nothing.

“Because the forty-eight hours is almost up, and if the crew hasn’t said anything yet, they sure as hell will if you aren’t freed.” He pauses for a moment, his dark eyes focused on the road ahead, his hands clenched tightly around the wheel. “It’s time for you to go, Grace. This has gone on too long.”

The burn in my eyes isn’t because I’ll never see him again. It can’t be. It must be because I’m so damn happy this ordeal is over. So damn happy to get back to the crew, and in a few days, back at home in Michigan with Mom and my boring office life.

That must be it. The alternative is just fucking crazy Stockholm Syndrome shit.

We pull up outside the hotel, and I stare up at it.

This is really it.

Time to say goodbye.

“I’m sorry, Grace. For everything.”

That’s it? That’s all he’s going to say?

I swallow through the lump in my throat and blink away the tears forming my eyes.

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