Truth or Lies? by A. Gomez (books to get back into reading TXT) 📕

at the man. I could tell he wasn’t a watchdog and he didn’t particularly look like he was part of the Triads, but then again neither did Debbie.

“You’re not Josh. You look nothing like him. Josh doesn’t have long hair and a beard. Plus, Josh has trouble moving since he was shot. You’re jumpin’ around like all get out.” He chuckled. I saw that he didn’t reach for his gun. He left it in its holster.

“It’s been almost six weeks since we last saw each other. Getting a haircut and shaving were the last things on my mind. And remember… I told you I was a fast healer. Baby, please, put the gun down. It’s me.” He had both hands in the air in defeat. “How can I prove it to you?”

I thought about that for a minute. “Okay, what’s Josh’s full name?”

“My name is Joshua Eric Rockwall.”

“Wrong,” I shouted, “it’s Eric.”

He chuckled. “Baby, are you drunk? Why are you drunk?”

“Well… I did have a few drinks with Jan. He had chocolates with his cognac,” I laughed. “I just had cognac. It was real good. I can’t remember the name of it right now, though, probably because I may be just a tad buzzed and my friends just got shot.” I was rambling as the bearded man came closer.

“Jan? Do you mean Chang? Victor Chang?”

“That’s what I said,” I replied.

His hands were up in the air with his palms forward in surrender. “Baby, you’re a funny drunk but I don’t like the idea that you’re drunk right now… here in this place.” He was staring at me, inching his way closer. “Baby, we found Chang. Who taped him up like that? Did you do that?”

“Please, just go away,” I pleaded. “I can’t tell who you really are and I just don’t want to kill any more people. Please.” His brow creased. Sighing, he nodded and placed his hands on his hips. “Hey,” I shouted. “Stop moving! Every time you move, my aim gets fuzzy and then I won’t be able to hit you. And yeah… I taped him. It was easy-peasy,” I slurred.

His hands went back up in defeat. He exhaled sharply, “I’m sorry.” His eyes flashed to my necklace. “Baby, that necklace you’re wearing, I gave you that necklace. Your mother gave it to you for me.” He slowly took two steps toward me. “She told you there’s a story behind that necklace and I was going to tell you about it when you were supposed to call me the night you were kidnapped.” He paused, “Baby, do you remember?”

I remembered the kidnapping and the bastard that shot my dog. I remembered Conny on the floor, immobile. I remembered shooting the Asian man that pointed his gun at me.

I began to feel a little nauseous and covered my mouth. He took another step closer. I gripped my gun with both hands and fired, emptying it into the watchdog behind him. The bearded man flinched, thinking I shot him. Stupid man. He’s wearing a bulletproof vest. Why flinch?

“Now, that guy I know for sure was Triads,” I said, right before collapsing to the floor and vomiting all over it.

He ran to me, wrapping his arm around my waist and supporting my weight with his arm. He took my gun from me and held my hair back while I finished vomiting.

“Let it all out, baby. I got you,” he said, patting my back.

“Caroline…” I managed to say in between spitting and coughing. “Caroline is on the sofa. She’s been shot.”

He pushed down on some button on his vest and called for help. I didn’t entirely believe help was coming until another man materialized wearing the same vest and earpiece. This man’s vest had FBI stamped on it with bright yellow letters. Did the bearded man’s have that as well? I turned my head to look at it and there it was, also in bright yellow letters. How did I miss that?

“Hey. Better?”

Another wave of nausea hit me. I quickly turned and began to regurgitate again. My eyes were watering and my ears were ringing. I felt like I had just run a marathon. Crap! Please don’t let me pass out in my own vomit. I took my vest off and wiped my face and mouth with it. I tossed it to the side.

I looked up at the man that was holding my hair and then down to his vest with the FBI letters stamped on it. “What took you so long?” I croaked, laying my forehead on his chest. At last I was in Josh’s arms again. I sat on my knees, feeling extremely weak. He held me tight, not letting me fall back.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” His voice was course, filled with anxiety. “I got here as fast as I could.” He was kneeling with his arms around me, pressing me into his chest. He was rubbing my back. On occasion I could feel him kissing the top of my head and stroking my hair. “Your hair is short,” he observed. “I like it.”

I could hear the other agent whispering something in his ear. “I know,” he snapped, “just give her a minute.” In one fluid movement, Josh picked me up and sat me on the sofa where I had left Caroline. I looked down at the sofa and touched the cushions, wondering where they took her.

“The paramedics have her,” he answered my unspoken question. “You probably didn’t hear them since you were still throwing up when they rushed in.” He was taking off his bulletproof vest and was starting to unbutton his shirt, “Baby, why don’t you have a shirt on? Why are you just wearing your bra?” He draped his blue button-down shirt over my shoulders. I slipped my arms through the sleeves trying to collect my thoughts.

“I needed something to stop