Evie dangled in Miss DiVazzo’s grasp. Under normal circumstances, she’d thrash and wave her fists at whatever she could reach, but pure agony ripped through her back, and she could hear Dad running closer while yelling her name at the top of his lungs. There had been so much gunfire. So much blood. All in such a short burst of a few seconds. Her vision tunneled, like looking through the wrong end of binoculars.
She felt like she would throw up.
“I believe your job here is done, Mr. Striker,” Miss DiVazzo said.
The man kneeling on the floor didn’t answer. Past the haze of her pain, Evie felt a subtle surprise. He’d been so bitter before. Now he sat—crumpled, almost—on the floor and stared at it as if it contained all the universe’s secrets. Miss DiVazzo shrugged and stepped around him. She walked toward the fountain, keeping Evie pinned in front of her with just one arm.
Up ahead, Dad staggered into view. He looked winded and half-beaten to death, but he was still standing and had a tight grasp on his weapon.
“Evie!”
“Stop right there, Mr. Martell,” Miss DiVazzo said. “I’ve got some precious cargo here. You wouldn’t want me to drop it. Or shoot it in the head.”
Dad halted on the other side of the fountain. He was holding the same pistol he’d shot Phantom with—a real gun. He looked first to Evie, then her captor, eyes darting back and forth. Evie felt Miss DiVazzo chuckling—little jerks of her chest, filled with spite.
“The plan didn’t turn out exactly like I intended,” Miss DiVazzo said. “But as Mr. Striker and Mr. Phantom pointed out, I’m a bit new at this. Doesn’t matter now, does it? You’re here, and I have your child at my mercy. Precisely what I wanted.”
“Put her down,” Dad said. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“She has everything to do with this,” Miss DiVazzo snapped, her body going rigid. “And you know why.”
“Please, just… stop. I’ll do anything you want. Just set her down.”
“No. Want to know why? Because that is the same thing my father said to you right before he died. You remember, don’t you?”
“W-wait, Miss DiVazzo, please-”
“In Dubai, Mr. Martell. In an abandoned restaurant, which you told my father would be the perfect place to exchange ‘goods’ as long as he came alone. And when he didn’t show up alone, you panicked, and—”
“I know what happened,” Dad said through his teeth. “Just please, put my daughter down. I’m begging you.”
A weird, sickened surprise swept through Evie. She got a brief image of Dad standing in the black, shadowed corner of a decaying building, half-hiding—sharing broken dialogue with some faceless man in a suit who stood on the other side of the room. The door must have opened, or a dozen red laser sights must have streamed in the window all at once. She could picture Dad jerking back with a gasp, yanking his gun upward and firing without looking where he was aiming.
“You shot my father,” Miss DiVazzo said, voice quivering. “You took him away from me. Don’t think for a second I’m not going to force that same sorrow on you. And begging is the last thing that will help.”
Evie felt something cold and metal on the side of her head.
“D…Dad?” Evie stammered.
“No!” Dad roared.
“Say goodbye to your daughter, Lance Martell.”
Dad blurred with movement and fired his gun. Miss DiVazzo’s shoulder jerked and she stumbled back, yelping in pain. Blood squirted over Evie’s cheek. Dad bolted toward them, gun smoking.
“You stop there!” Miss DiVazzo thundered.
Dad skidded to a halt, balking. Evie felt the gun shoved against her temple again, this time pressed so hard against her skull it scraped her skin.
“I’ve got enough bio-metal in me to last a hundred gun battles,” Miss DiVazzo said. “Give up, Martell. I’m going to kill your daughter, and you can’t stop me.”
“No!” Dad cried.
“You deserve this,” Miss DiVazzo spat.
Dad reached out. “Evie!”
Bang!
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