Jose snatches the phone from my hand, tucking it inside his jacket. The Glock too. Holding my arms out, I stand, passive, as he pats me down, removes the knife from my belt, plus the pair from the calf-holsters, then he goes through my pockets.
He raises brows as he finds Juliana’s text on plant poisons. “Your choice of reading? And you tried to put the blame on her?” The book too, he shoves in his own pocket. Then, lip curling, he nods down. “Now you kneel. Hands behind your back.”
I hesitate, but Juliana holds up her phone, waving it at me.
Out of options, I obey, gravel biting into my knees as I drop.
Will she keep her word?
Mitch…
There’s no air. Behind my eyes, spots dance as the ties tighten; the first in a simple loop around my wrists, the second in a figure of eight, circling
