“What—?”
“Thegobshiteshot the tire, Molly. Hang the fuck on.”
He drives with the ferocity of a wild man with a death wish, and it’s both impressive and terrifying. Not even the shot-out tire stops him.
God. We’re approaching what looks like a dead end in the shape of a row of warehouses and a car wreck.
Our car screeches to a stop, driver’s side facing out as other cars pull up around us.
I brace against the door, keeping low like he said. Myheart’s pounding so hard I can barely breathe, but through the shattered back window I glimpse our pursuers. Multiple cars. Too many shooters. I tug my sweatpants back up while cowering in my seat.
“How many?” Declan barks.
“Three cars,” I manage to get out.
Declan shoots as men pour out, rushing at us. He takes out four of the guys.
“Fuck.” He looks at his gun, pulls out the one I found and starts shooting with that. “Get out and stay low, okay? And when I say run, run.”
I do as he tells me. It takes three tries to stop my fingers shaking enough to unclip the belt, two tries to remember he locked the door, and all around me, I’m in the middle of some wild west shoot out.
As I slide down to the ground, Declan joins me, grabbing my arm and pushing me behind him. “The roller door’s close by, so stay low and roll under it.” He shoves me farther down and shoots past me.
I don’t know what’s happening. I struggle to sit up enough to see, but not enough to get shot.
A bullet whizzes past my head and Declan pulls the trigger. Then he turns, taking in the scene.
I can’t tell if we’re getting shot at or are caught in the crossfire, and I hate myself for clinging so close to Declan.
He fires, taking down others. And then I see Leon rush forward, not caring about the bullets. But his hands are empty, no defensive posture, his eyes on me.
Declan sees him too. He raises his gun to shoot, but I grab him. “No! Don’t shoot—that’s my boyfriend!”
For a moment I think he’s going to pull the trigger, anyway. Time slows. He doesn’t, and then, my brain short circuits. I try to shove past Declan. I haveto get to Leon.
Declan’s heavy weight slams into me and I eat pavement once again.
Shit, I need to make sure Leon’s okay, As of right now, he’s my only chance to save my dad.
And then I stop thinking as Declan hits the ground next to me and shoves me. “Go! Or I’ll fucking put a bullet in you myself.”
His words make me shudder. I roll under the door into the darkness that smells like cement and oil and… fruit?
Pineapple, citrus, apples.
Declan rolls in right after me and grabs me as he jumps up, throws me over his shoulder, and takes off in the dark, seemingly knowing the place.
I grab fistfuls of his hoodie, hanging on for dear life, even though I don’t want to be here.
The sounds of gunshots ping off metal, and the shouts and cries are mixed with distant sirens. Declan keeps running. He pushes through another door and down a street. Somehow, I can read the sign on the shrinking door: Jack’s Fruit Imports.
He doesn’t stop running, but I’m hit with the coolish air of thenight, the relative silence—apart from distant squealing tires, and the growing sirens.
No more gunshots.
I slap a fist against his back. “Put me down.”
“Shut up, Molly, you’re on my last nerve—but I’d rather you be bouncing on my cock. Preferably gagged.” Something beeps and he stops, then throws me into a cool space that smells like leather.
