It was an industrial estate, somewhere past Heathrow Airport. The unit Johnny directed Caelan to was tucked out of the way, a household recycling centre on one side, a scrapyard on the other. Both closed, both in darkness.
‘Drive around the back,’ Johnny said. ‘There’s a car park.’
Caelan did as she was told, following the narrow tarmac road along the side of the building. There were no signs, nothing to indicate what sort of business went on here. She was sure they were about to find out.
She turned the corner into the car park, surprised to see so many cars there. It was close to midnight, wintry rain and freezing gusts tugging at their clothes and numbing their faces as they got out of the car. Lucy stumbled as she put her feet on the ground. Caelan went to help her, and immediately Johnny turned the gun on them, keeping hold of Justyna with his other hand.
‘What are you doing? I told you, behave yourselves.’
‘She tripped,’ Caelan said. ‘It happens.’
He grinned, waving them forward with the gun. ‘When you’re shit scared, yeah.’
Caelan didn’t reply, keeping an arm around Lucy’s trembling shoulders. She wanted to ask her where she’d been, what had happened. Now, though, they needed to concentrate on staying alive. The estate was silent, deserted. No witnesses.
Johnny led them over to a black double door and rapped on it with the gun. Immediately it opened, and he hauled Justyna inside. ‘Come on,’ he barked over his shoulder.
Caelan kept hold of Lucy, and they stepped through the door into a corridor. She looked around, wanting to commit every detail to memory. If she got out of here, she would need to be able to describe it. The floor was concrete, the walls white. She could hear a man’s voice. He was talking quickly, his voice amplified somehow, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. To their left was a metal staircase with a chain across it to discourage anyone from going up or coming down, though it wasn’t much of an obstacle. In front of them, about five metres away, was another black door. A man stood beside it, his face obscured by a dark scarf and a knitted hat pulled low over his brow. He wore black trousers and boots, a black jacket, no labels or designs, nothing to help anyone if they were asked to describe him. He stood with his back straight, chin up. Caelan guessed it was Chris, Harris’s other hired muscle, but she couldn’t be sure. Johnny nodded to him, but neither man spoke as he marched them all through the door.
Beyond was a huge room with a stage at one end. Here, the voice they had heard was loud and clear, and Caelan realised immediately what was happening. She felt light-headed, nauseous, the floor seeming to rise and fall beneath her feet. She felt Lucy go rigid beside her as Johnny stopped, allowing them to see what was happening. He was grinning, highly amused by their reactions. Justyna’s knees sagged and he hauled her upright, holding her tightly so she was forced to watch.
It was an auction.
In front of them were rows of chairs, most of them occupied. On the stage, a middle-aged man, sweating and smiling, stood at a podium. He was plump, wearing tiny glasses, and kept stroking his straggly moustache. To his right, a young woman stood blinking at the crowd. She was naked except for a pair of red high-heeled shoes and an elaborate pink feather headdress bearing the number 12. Her arms were by her sides, her eyes fixed on a point at the back of the room.
Caelan felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach. Pink feathers. Penrith had told her the three young people they had found dead had had pink feathers or fluff in their hair. They had been here, on this stage, or at least in the building, before they were executed. What had they done? Protested? Tried to escape? She stared around her, numb and disbelieving. This was what Stefan Harris was doing. This was why he wanted to buy Reuben Nash’s club. He’d told her he had plans for it, and this was what he had meant – this human cattle sale.
‘…Ladies and gentlemen, beautiful Lot Twelve. To recap, she’s twenty-one, and free from all STDs. As you can see, she has blonde hair, blue eyes, a full set of perfect white teeth.’ He paused, smiling. ‘Willing to work hard and play hard, if you know what I mean.’ He stopped again as though waiting for laughter, though none came. The atmosphere was charged, a room full of people smacking their lips, waiting to feast. Caelan drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She hadn’t been able to keep her arm around Lucy, but now she reached again for her hand. Lucy’s grip was tight, almost painful. Beside them, Justyna looked ready to collapse.
‘We’ll start the bidding at five thousand pounds,’ the auctioneer said. Immediately, hands went up and the bids rose swiftly. ‘Ten thousand, eleven, twelve, thirteen, thank you, sir.’ He paused and wiped his brow. On the floor at the front of the stage someone waved to the young woman who was being sold up there. Blankly she looked down, and Caelan saw who was speaking to her.
Jolene Townsend.
Caelan’s guts lurched and rolled as Lot 12 lifted her head and managed a smile. Jolene must have told her to look as though she was enjoying herself. The rage Caelan had felt inside since Justyna had shared her story began to build. She would close this place down, and every one of these filthy bastards with their hands in the air would go down too. How, she didn’t know, but she would do it.
‘Do I hear fifteen thousand?’ the auctioneer was saying. Johnny jerked his head.
‘Follow me.’
Caelan kept hold of Lucy’s hand, her eyes searching for an opportunity, anything she could grab to use as a weapon. She would be gambling with Justyna’s life, probably with her own and Lucy’s too. Would that save these people who were being sold like antique furniture or paintings? No. She had to be patient.
Johnny led them down the side of the room, to a door next to the stage. Lucy gripped Caelan’s hand even tighter as they saw the naked young woman glance at them. Her chin trembled, and she blinked rapidly. Caelan wanted to hurl herself onto the stage, to grab her, cover her and get her out of here. She looked at the faces of the people in the crowd – mostly men, but there were women present too – and hated every one of them. She didn’t have time to dwell on how she felt about their actions – this reducing of fellow humans to pieces of meat, play things, property. That would come, if she escaped this place.
Through the door, and this room was even worse than the last. There were people inside, but there was also complete silence. Johnny stood back, pushing Justyna, Caelan and Lucy forward. At first, all Caelan could see was eyes. Twenty people sat on the floor, each wearing a white robe and with a pile of clothes beside them. Caelan knew there were twenty, because their headdresses ranged from number 13 to number 32. Number 15 wept silently, her mascara running, shadowing her blue eyes. Number 22 drummed her fingers on her thighs, over and over. Number 29 was male. He sat with his head bowed, hairy legs straight out in front of him. Beside him, number 30 closed her eyes and pressed her hands together. Caelan guessed she was praying and hoped she would find some comfort in it.
There was sudden pressure at her back, and she knew without looking that Johnny held the gun there.
‘Something to show you,’ he whispered. Caelan didn’t answer, and he grabbed her arm, twisting it painfully. As their hands were wrenched apart, Lucy moaned, and Justyna was immediately by her side.
Johnny led her back to the stairs. The chain had been removed and he marched her up them. There was a small landing, and two doors. He pointed.
‘Behind that one… Go on, open it.’
Caelan didn’t know if they were alone up here, but he still had the gun and she had seen nothing she could use as a weapon. No handy length of pipe or wood, not even a pen. He waved the gun at her.
‘I said open it.’
If he was expecting her to be cowed, he was going to be disappointed. She stared at him for a long moment, then strode towards the door. Her hand trembled, but he wouldn’t be able to see it. Her throat was choked, the anger, disgust and despair at what people were capable of doing to each other seeming to rise from her stomach to suffocate her. Whatever was on the other side of this door couldn’t be any worse than what she had seen downstairs.
Except it was.
Sitting back to back, their hands behind them, handcuffed together, were Ryan Glennister and Tom Haslam. They too were naked, their heads lolling but the numbers on their headdresses still visible – 33 and 34.
‘We gave them the choice – they could be killed or sold,’ Johnny said conversationally. ‘They chose to be sold, though I’ve no idea why. Who’s going to want a scrawny druggie and a mentally ill stalker?’ He shoved Glennister’s leg with the toe of his boot. ‘I doubt they’ll get any bids, and then what are we going to do with them?’
Caelan didn’t answer, wanting to drive her fist into his face. He stepped closer, pinning her against the wall, the gun under her chin. Lazily he drew it across her throat, pressed it against her temple. ‘What would you choose?’ he whispered. Behind them, Caelan heard laughter. She stared into his eyes.
‘Death.’
Johnny laughed. ‘I thought you might. And we’d make it quick.’
‘A bullet in the back of the head, and it’s goodnight,’ a different voice said.
Recognising it instantly, Caelan stiffened.
Reuben Nash. He stood, arms folded, a mocking grin on his face. What was he doing here? Where was Harris?
Beside him was another man. He was as tall as Nash, wearing a dark suit and a bored expression. Small dark eyes skimmed Caelan’s body, assessing her like a farmer at a livestock market. There was nothing sexual about the way he studied her – he might have been looking at a painting, or a car. He said nothing.
Nash sauntered towards her, hands in pockets, looking pleased with himself. ‘So here you are. Now you know most of my secrets, but I’m told I don’t know any of yours.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come on, darling.’
Caelan sneered at him. ‘Make me.’
The other man said, ‘Shut your mouth.’ He spoke quietly, turning away as though there could be no doubt she would do as he said. His accent was strong, though Caelan couldn’t place it. She wondered whether he could be Albanian, like the men Mulligan had employed, or Polish, like Justyna. Nash shot him an anxious glance. This man was clearly involved in the horrible scheme; maybe he was even the one in charge of bringing people into the UK from the countries they had called home.
‘Surely you’re not going to be awkward when there’s a man with a gun standing beside you?’ Nash said.
Johnny stepped forward. ‘Do as you’re told.’
Caelan allowed Nash to take her hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it, then wrenched it behind her back. Caelan gasped but knew better than to struggle. In this position she could break Nash’s hold, but he could also snap her arm. Then there was the other man, plus Johnny and his gun.
‘You lied to me,’ Nash hissed in her ear. ‘Who are you?’
‘You already know. Victoria Smith. Check my passport, my driving licence.’ She was breathing hard, harder than she needed to. She wanted him to think he was hurting her, that she was weakening.
Nash twisted her arm further, setting her off balance, making her vision blur for a second. She had to make him let go before he caused her real damage.
‘Stop, please,’ she squealed, laying it on thick.
Nash laughed, delighted. ‘Come on,’ he said to Johnny ‘Bring her to the storeroom. I’m sure when she sees the blood on the walls, she’ll tell us.’ He made a gun from his fingers and pointed it at her. ‘And if she doesn’t… Well, she’s already told us what her choice will be.’
He turned and walked away. Johnny gave her a shove and Caelan started walking, her mind spinning as she took in what Nash was saying. People were given a choice – be sold or be killed? She couldn’t believe he was serious, but the bullets in the back of the heads of the three unidentified victims told their own story. Still, it didn’t make sense. Nash was in this for the profit – why would he give his merchandise a way out when he could sell them?
The gun jabbed her spine again and she kept moving. Nash waited at the top of the stairs, beaming. He crooked a finger at Caelan, and she followed him down. In the corridor, the drone of the auctioneer’s voice continued, every thump of his gavel another life sold. Nash stopped to check his phone as Johnny marched Caelan past him.
Lucy and Justyna huddled together at the bottom of the stairs, both pale-faced, terrified. Again Johnny pushed the gun into Caelan’s back, and she moved to stand beside them. Lucy reached for her as Johnny turned away, looking to Nash for his next command. Caelan froze for a second as Lucy’s hand found hers.
Nash put his phone away. ‘We’re going this way.’
Caelan moved against the wall, changing the position of her body as Johnny turned back. He glared at her.
‘You heard. Keep moving,’ he said, pointing with his gun.
Caelan did as she was told, making her way down the corridor, moving as slowly as she dared. She didn’t want to leave Lucy and Justyna, but with Johnny and Nash beside her she had no choice.
Halfway down, Jolene Townsend stood with her arms folded, what looked like a toolbox at her feet. Her face was blank, her eyes fixed on the opposite wall. Beyond her was a man who had his back to them, shoulders hunched. Caelan guessed his identity before he turned.
Leyton Grey.
He too had a case, clutched to his chest. His expression was desolate, his eyes on the ground. When he lifted them and met Caelan’s gaze, he didn’t flinch, and she knew what he was trying to tell her: I had no choice.
She stared back at him as she passed, because there was always a choice. Whether you decided to take the right path or went for self-preservation was up to you.
Nash nudged her as they walked along. ‘As you can see, the gang’s all here.’ He stopped, checked his watch, then hurried back towards the stairs, pulling Caelan along with him. Johnny followed, while the other man disappeared through the door at the far end of the corridor.
‘Stefan?’ Nash bellowed, his fingers digging into Caelan’s arm. ‘Stef?’
Stef. Caelan blinked. They were in it together. Nash and Harris, pretending to hate each other, all the while running this despicable scheme.
This was what Mulligan had been trying to tell her all along – they were all involved. Reuben Nash, Stefan Harris, Jolene Townsend and Leyton Grey. She guessed Mulligan had struggled to point the finger at Jolene and Leyton, but he had done so in the end. Whether his conscience hadn’t allowed him to protect them or it had been his own line in self-preservation, keeping him out of prison, Caelan didn’t know.
Harris descended the stairs, looking as nonchalant as Nash.
‘Evening, all,’ he said. He spotted Justyna, who turned her face away from him. He went to her, grabbed her by the throat. ‘Hello, Mother,’ he said, and threw her against the wall.
Nash raised a hand. ‘Easy, Stefan. We don’t want her hurt.’
Harris was still snarling, but he allowed Nash to lead him away and stalked back up the stairs muttering to himself.
Nash smiled as there was a knock on the outside door. He opened it with a flourish.
Caelan saw Ewan first, stumbling inside, his eyes swollen, his mouth bleeding. Mulligan was next, pale and sweating. She stared at him and he managed a grin.
‘Evening, Cousin Victoria. Don’t suppose you’ve any aspirin? I’ve a shocking headache.’
Lucy said, ‘James,’ and tried to reach for her brother. Johnny shoved her back, and Caelan saw Mulligan’s eyes blaze. She met Ewan’s gaze and gave a tiny shake of her head: Let me handle this. He frowned, but she knew he would do as she asked.
‘Let’s keep it friendly, shall we?’ Nash said.
Caelan looked at the cases Townsend and Grey carried and the nausea rose again as she remembered the torture inflicted on Nathan Nash. Had Jolene been involved? Leyton? She couldn’t see it, but she had been wrong about so much already. She was trapped, more so than she had ever been in her career. She was exposed, vulnerable, and she had too many people around her to risk any heroics. Then again, you could only bide your time for so long. If she wanted to get out of here alive, she might have to act regardless.
Nash was a talker, a show-off. She already knew that and wondered if she could use it. She had questions, after all.
‘Who killed Nathan?’ She spoke loudly, and Nash narrowed his eyes.
‘Haven’t you worked it out yet, Miss Marple? People will do anything for money, or better still, for drugs. Fortunately for me, and for Stefan, poor Leyton over there has problems with both. He’s good with a pair of scissors, less so with a baseball bat. He killed the man he was supposed to threaten and tickled the man he was supposed to kill.’ He spoke about the death of his brother as though it was no more than a minor inconvenience. Grey looked ill. He had set his case on the floor, wrapped his arms around his body.
‘Tickled?’ Despite it all, Mulligan sounded indignant. ‘I’ve been in the bloody hospital; this isn’t a migraine we’re talking about. I’d be there now if you hadn’t—’
Casually Nash stepped forward and punched him in the stomach. Mulligan dropped to his knees, gasping and choking. His sister made to rush forward, then thought better of it.
Caelan raised her voice. ‘And Jolene? What’s her role here?’
‘Making our friends look presentable,’ Nash said. ‘Make-up, hairstyling. Leyton does a few trims. Jolene also stays with our friends in the green room – the one they’re waiting in now – before they go onstage.’
Caelan listened in horrified fascination. Their friends? The green room?
‘She chats to them while they wait, offers them a little something to calm their nerves if they need it. Nathan used to do that too, but then he… well, he let us down.’
‘How?’ Caelan thought she’d guessed, but she wanted to hear Nash say it.
‘He had a crisis of conscience, much like your friend Mulligan. He wanted out, didn’t like the thought of what we do here. Jolene and Leyton, well, they might not enjoy it either, but they keep their heads down and do the job, because when you owe as much money as they do, what choice do you have?’
Grey gave a strangled sob, and Nash laughed. ‘It was Leyton who flogged my brother until he screamed for mercy. You’d never think it looking at him now, snivelling like a baby, but when we told him to get on with it or we’d practise on him first, he soon picked up the whip. Kept his eyes closed most of the time, but he got the job done. People can do anything if it saves their own skin.’ He stepped closer to Caelan. Still she didn’t flinch, not when his hand stroked her cheek or when he ran his fingers through her hair. He leant into her, trapping her against the wall. She hoped Ewan wouldn’t react as Nash ran his lips down her throat and kissed her ear. She held herself rigid.
He gave up, pushing her away from him. ‘Now that I’ve answered your questions, how about you tell me who you really are?’
‘I’m Victoria Smith.’
He rubbed his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. ‘Except a woman you claim is your cousin has never heard of you, certainly doesn’t recognise you.’
‘I… must have got confused,’ Lucy stammered. ‘I don’t know all of the family; there are so many on the Smith side…’
Nash ignored her. He looked at Mulligan, who was now back on his feet, though his face was purple, his eyes streaming.
‘Looks like it’s up to you, James,’ he said. He beckoned to Johnny, who stepped forward. ‘The gun,’ Nash snapped. Scowling, Johnny handed it over. Nash smiled, testing the weight of the weapon in his hand. ‘Feels good,’ he said. ‘Lighter than I expected. You ever fired a gun, James?’
Mulligan licked his lips. ‘Once or twice.’
Nash nodded, then with a sudden movement jammed the barrel against Mulligan’s temple. Grey moaned; tears were running down Lucy’s cheeks. Caelan twitched. The situation was more desperate than ever. What could she do? How could she stop this? She could attack, but it was still too risky. Play along, and be ready to take your chance, she told herself.
‘Now, James, man to man,’ Nash said. ‘All right, you’re the one with the gun to your head, but let’s play fair. I won’t blow your brains out if you tell me who this bitch really is.’
Mulligan gulped. Over Nash’s shoulder he met Caelan’s eyes, and she knew what he was going to say. She knew then that she would die in this place, for this job. Mulligan didn’t look away, kept his eyes fixed on Caelan as he spoke.
‘She’s my cousin. Lucy doesn’t know her, of course she doesn’t. We only met Victoria once as kids, and Lucy wasn’t much more than a baby. We didn’t speak again till recently, when Vic heard I was in the same business as her. I mean, it’s not something you shout about, is it? Don’t bring it up at weddings and funerals. Check her background, ask around in Edinburgh.’
‘I have,’ Nash said.
‘And?’
‘People said she was legit.’ Wavering, Nash ran his free hand through his hair.
‘There you go,’ Mulligan said. Caelan was amazed at his calmness. He hadn’t betrayed her, at least not yet. She had no idea what he was doing, but it was buying them time. ‘You know what she was up to,’ he went on. ‘She saw I was useless, wanted to work with a proper businessman. Whether that was you or Stefan, she didn’t care. Either way, one of you would be forced out of the area.’
‘You think?’ Stefan bellowed from upstairs. ‘Cheeky bastard.’
‘Wait,’ Nash said. He turned to Lucy. ‘You. Follow me.’ He looked at Caelan. ‘You too.’
Caelan met Lucy’s eyes and nodded. What else could they do? Nash still held the gun.
‘Where are you taking them?’ Mulligan demanded.
Nash smiled. ‘Why don’t you come with us and you’ll find out?’
Johnny grabbed Mulligan by the front of his jacket. ‘Start walking,’ he said.
Lucy glared at the bodyguard. ‘Leave him alone.’
He laughed. ‘Found some guts, have you? About time.’
‘Fuck off,’ Lucy spat.
Nash waved the gun. ‘Through the door, all of you.’
Nash hustled them past the stage, into the room where the people in white robes sat, waiting their turn. He ignored them, didn’t even look, but Mulligan’s eyes widened.
‘What the fuck?’
Johnny laughed. ‘What? Where did you think your shipments ended up? Not coming over here for a holiday, were they?’
Mulligan’s face worked. ‘This is fucking barbaric.’
‘Didn’t bother you when you were spending the money, did it?’
‘James?’ Lucy’s voice was little more than a whisper. ‘You’re not involved in this? You wouldn’t—’
‘Of course he would,’ Johnny said cheerfully. ‘Hope the two of you don’t have a granny, because he’d sell her as well.’
Mulligan reached out a hand to his sister, but she shoved him away.
Nash kept them moving, through another door. This room was about twenty feet square, and empty. The skin on the back of Caelan’s neck prickled. This place… People had died in here, she would swear to it.
‘Over there, by the wall,’ he ordered.
Johnny closed the door and stood beside it, arms folded, a smile on his face like he was having the time of his life. Mulligan stumbled towards the far side of the room, Lucy close behind him. Brother and sister stood side by side, Lucy’s face wet with tears, Mulligan’s red and furious. Caelan followed, terrified, adrenalin making her frantic, her mind racing through possibilities. Nash had the gun, Johnny was guarding the only door, and there were no windows. Stefan Harris was out there, as was the second bodyguard, Chris.
‘On your knees,’ Nash ordered.
Caelan heard Mulligan whimper. Slowly, Lucy crouched. Mulligan dropped to the ground beside her. Nash waved the gun at Caelan.
‘On your knees,’ he repeated.
She stared back at him, knowing he’d never held a gun before in his life. He’d just told them as much, but at this range, inexperience wouldn’t matter.
He wouldn’t need to be an expert to kill her.
Still she defied him. Nash’s hand trembled as he raised the gun again, pointing it at Caelan’s face.
Johnny shifted. ‘Boss, why don’t you let me—’
‘Shut up,’ Nash screamed.
The door opened and the man in the dark suit walked in. He took in the scene immediately. Walking up to Nash, he held out his hand. ‘Give it to me.’
‘I know what I’m doing,’ Nash protested.
‘No. Give it to me.’
Scowling, humiliated, Nash handed the weapon over. The man weighed it in his hand and smiled. Caelan revised her plan. This was a man familiar with firearms, comfortable with them. He looked at her.
‘Come here,’ was all he said. She looked at him and he nodded, pointed at the floor with the gun. ‘Now.’
She moved quickly, stood beside him.
‘Good. Stay.’ He walked across to where Lucy and Mulligan cowered. ‘Now,’ he said to Caelan. ‘My colleague asked you a question. You need to answer.’
‘Who are you?’ Nash said softly.
Caelan knew she had no choice. Lucy watched her, dry-eyed now. Still Caelan didn’t speak; she couldn’t. Her mouth was parched, her throat closed.
‘Well?’ The man with the gun clicked his tongue. He pointed the gun at the back of Mulligan’s head – Mulligan, torturer, liar, drug dealer, people trafficker, and all Caelan could think about was how she was going to save his life. The odds were so heavily stacked against her it was laughable, but she knew she had to try.
‘You don’t think I’ll shoot?’ the man in the suit asked quietly.
Johnny laughed. ‘I don’t think she believes—’
His words disappeared as the back of his head exploded, blood and gore splattering the wall behind him. Lucy shrieked, Mulligan let out a scream. Nash whimpered, flung his arms around himself.
‘Yes, I will shoot,’ the man said. Caelan gave a casual nod while her mind screamed against the murder she had just witnessed. She forced her eyes away from Johnny’s body, from the oozing matter on the wall.
‘So.’ The gun was at Mulligan’s head again. ‘Your friend. Tell me her name.’
Mulligan gulped, looking up at Caelan. Tell him, she mouthed. Mulligan swallowed, lips pressed together. ‘You won’t say?’ A chuckle. ‘Maybe the young lady will.’
As he took a step to the side, Caelan dropped to one knee, pulling the gun Lucy had passed to her at the bottom of the stairs from the waistband of her jeans. She fired once, the bullet finding its mark, the shoulder of the fancy suit instantly covered in blood. The man fell backwards, his own weapon skittering across the floor as he lay bellowing in pain.
Mulligan came to life, scrabbling for the gun, but Nash was there first. He grabbed it as Caelan straightened, pointing it at her again. She saw the panic and fear in his eyes and knew he was more dangerous now than he had been before, probably more so than the man in the suit had been. He had murdered Johnny, but Reuben, with his wild eyes and trembling body, could end up killing them all.
‘You bitch,’ he said. His voice was shaking almost as much as his hand was. ‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’
Caelan held up her hands, still holding her gun. She didn’t take her eyes off his as she kept moving, hands in the air, slowly rotating, Nash following her movements unconsciously, until her body was between Nash and Lucy and Mulligan.
‘Give me the gun, Reuben,’ she said softly. ‘It’ll be better for you.’
He snorted. ‘What are you talking about? I’m walking out of here.’
‘And where will you go?’
‘I don’t know. Anywhere.’ He looked at the man on the floor, blood still leaking from his shoulder. ‘He’s dying.’
Perfectly calm, Caelan shook her head. ‘Unlike you lot, I don’t shoot to kill.’
Nash looked at the gun in his own hand as though he was surprised to see it there. ‘Tell me who you are.’
Caelan waited, hoping she had read him right, hoping this wasn’t where the whole thing went to shit.
‘Tell me,’ Nash yelled, lunging for her. Caelan stepped back, spun on the ball of her left foot and whipped out her right leg, the crack as her foot connected with Nash’s outstretched arm sounding almost as loud as the shots had. He screamed, fell, and she bent to pick up the gun. As he writhed on the ground, she stood over him, both weapons safely pointed at the ground. He was crying, moaning, and she knew he wouldn’t hear her.
‘I’m a police officer,’ she said.