My gaze flicked to the hoodie I now wore again. I rolled my eyes. “Hah. Where will we go, Lach?”
“Kieran has a safe house in this area.”
“Are we keeping your iPhone?”Because Lorenzo can track us … and … I-I caused this.
49
LACHLAN
“Aye! The friggen phone stays.”My reply ripped from my chest. Raw, gravelly. Did Natasha not think I’d protect her with my life? “Now let’s go.”
I signaled for her to exit as I opened the back door and stepped into the cold air. Natasha appeared as though she had words. Instead, she tucked a glass into the hoodie. I lifted an eyebrow.
“Your finger.”
My left hand grabbed hers. My blood still pounded from the close call, and her fingers felt small and warm against mine.
The crunch of gravel accompanied our sprint across the street. I dropped to a knee before the motorcycle and gritted my teeth. My right hand throbbed with the intensity of a bass drum. The blood from losing my forefinger had mostly stopped, but every nerve hollered. My mangled hand didn’t want to move, didn’t want to grip.
Nae. I forced my fingers—the ones I did have—to obey. The skin pulled tight over raw edges as I stripped wires and twisted them together. Pain flashed up my arm. Made my vision spark white at the edges. I bit down hard to keep from groaning andtasted copper on the inside of my cheek.Please, God.I kept working on the assignment. Dad had taught me to hotwire every sort of vehicle while growing up, saying,You never know.
Natasha stood on the side closest to the door, arms folded like armor. Despite all we’d gone through, she was … Hell, she was gorgeous. Her mouth set in that stubborn way, a smirk.Bealin’—boiled with rage. Couldn’t blame her.
Her eyes—rich, hazel, and deep enough to drown in—slid to mine. Suddenly, I wanted to kiss her. Kiss the fury from her mouth. I restrained myself. Who was she angrier with? Lorenzo for the mind games? Or me for shouting at her? Suppose she thought I was dangling her like a toy.Och. Whatever she thought, she’d soon see the lad wasn’t gonna remain breathing. He’d wronged her.
My woman.
In no time, the motorcycle’s engine rumbled. We tore through the streets, Natasha holding me tight. Wind slapped our faces, and we soon reached a block of flats in Dundee’s worst patches. I parked, kicking the stand.
“Keep your head down, Natasha. Nobody gives a crap here. But there’s a system. If someone has a bounty, they?—”
“They snitch?” Natasha climbed off first.
“Aye. But this place ain’t so bad. It’s quite literally a resort.”
“I’m not a diva, but I could use a massage?” Her brow lifted.
“Meh. Massages usually come with happy,itchyendings. They also have a street pharmacist. And a shady doc.” I lifted my bad hand. “Let’s get this fixed. Raincheck on the spa date?”
She nodded.
The stench of piss hit us before we reached the door.
“You got the PIN for the keypad access?” She gestured to the code lock.
“No need.” I shoved the door open. The lock didn’t work. Nobody cared, making it useful for Kieran.
Kieran had a network running through these flats with the efficiency of bad plumbing. Drug dealers, the dodgy masseuse with a loyalty punch card, that probably now only served said dealers since Kieran got married. All on the first floor, in odd-numbered apartments, naturally. Same went for the “doctor” with credentials from a YouTube tutorial who reattached my finger.
Though he’d helped out, the lad wouldn’t let me borrow his phone. “Too risky,” he said.Too risky, mate? He just stitched me up with thread from a sewing kit! At least he handed me a bag of gauze and enough painkillers to make the Dodgers’ drug testing department twitch. I’d fail a random drug test three times over. Bless him.
We climbed a narrow staircase, coming to a hall. Under the welcome rug for the right spot, I pulled it away.
Roaches scattered. I grabbed Kieran’s spare key, muttering cusswords.
Inside, the place was quiet, bare bones, just a couch in the living room.
Natasha’s mouth curved. “Nothing’s crawling.”
