Chasing down problematic ballerinas isn’t exactly on my to-do list this week, but it looks like I’ll have to make a fucking exception.
I stare out across the dock, my eyes trailing over every shipping container, every decrepit building she could be hiding in. There’s too many to search, too many directions she couldhave gone. I growl low under my breath, knowing I have to go back inside and deal with that mess before dealing with her.
You can run, little Rose, but you cannot hide.
Not from me.
17
RUN, BABY, RUN
BRIAR
Now
Run.
The word circles through my mind as I sprint like hell away from the docks. Taking sharp, random turns, and not letting up on the breakneck speed I’m setting, even when I slide on a scattering of loose gravel, skinning up my left knee and thigh.
I hate cardio.I fucking hate cardio.But thank fucking god for cardio.
All that time spent on the treadmill is finally put to good use as I run for what seems like forever. Putting as much distance between me and the Irish Devil King as possible.
Koen O’Rourke.What was he doing there?I don’t know if I want the answer.
Once I’m certain no one’s chasing after me, I slow. I’m closer to downtown, and this area is much more populated.
I pull the hood of Koen’s sweatshirt over my face as far as I can and push on. Trying not to draw any extra attention to myself from whoever might be wandering the downtown streets at this late—or rather, early—hour.
He recognized me. That flash in his eyes just before he cut my hands free. Heknew.Heremembered.
Why did I say anything?
Dumb.
Panic upticks my already pounding heart I run through all the possible implications.
I catapult myself onto a bus just as it’s about to pull away from the sidewalk, relieved to find it happens to be heading in the right direction. It’s late, so there’s only one other passenger on the bus with me and he looks half asleep.
“Bus fare?”
I stop, staring blankly at the driver. After everything that just happened, being asked for something as mundane asbus farehas glitched my brain.
Right, shit. Buses cost money.And my wallet is back at the club…
The bus driver narrows his eyes, gripping the handle for the door, prepared to kick me out, when I remember I stashed some emergency cash in my bra earlier today. “Hold on!” I frantically check over my shoulder at the empty sidewalk, wishing he would just drive already while I fish a twenty out of my bra and shove it in the box.
“That’s too much,” he says flatly and I glare at him until he sighs, finally shifting the bus into gear.
I feel infinitely better once we’re moving, hunkering down in the back of the bus, keeping my eye on the empty street behind us. I ignore my bleeding knees, curling them into my chest, sliding Koen’s hoodie over them and hugging them close.
The adrenaline is finally ebbing away and shivers rack my body, both from cold and shock.
Koen.
He came out of the shadows like a demon summoned straight from hell.
He didn’t even blink when he put that bullet in Lorenzo. One clean through his hand, forcing him to drop the whip. And another through his knee, taking him down. With barely a thought, from over a hundred feet away.
