“Marco,” I pant. “Help me.”
He’s there instantly, hauling on the opposite edge while I shove. The dumpster screeches as it rolls, metal wheels shrieking against concrete.
“Jesus, it smells,” he says, gagging.
“Pull,” I bark. “Now.”
The door behind us rattles violently. Angry shouting erupts from the other side. A heavy thud slams into the metal.
We wrench the dumpster into place just as the handle on the restaurant door jerks hard.
I slam the wheel locks down.
The door bucks again. Someone fires a gun. The shot cracks through the alley, deafening. We all clap our hands over our ears, ducking instinctively.
The door holds.
For now.
Marco wheels around, eyes wild, lips pulled tight. “Where’s your car?”
“Over here!” Hannah shouts, and she’s gone. She sprints into the street, moving shockingly fast even in heels. Marco and I tear after her, lungs burning. I lose all sense of direction as she takes a series of sharp turns, left, right, another left, until suddenly her battered sedan appears like a miracle.
She skids to a stop and gasps, hands flying to her cheeks. “My keys. My purse. I left them inside.”
Without hesitation, Marco yanks his sleeve over his fist and punches through the driver’s-side window.
The glass shatters with a bright tinkling rain, shards skittering across the pavement.
“Hey!” Hannah protests. “You’re paying me back for that, you asshole!”
Marco doesn’t even look at her. He shoves her gently but firmly aside and slides into the driver’s seat like this is his natural habitat.
I grab Hannah by the waist and hustle her to the passenger side, opening the door and tucking her in before I climb into the back seat directly behind her.
It takes Marco less than five minutes to hotwire the car.
The engine roars to life, and we’re flying down the street.
“Not bad,” I mutter, watching Hannah stare in horror at the tangle of exposed wires dangling beneath the steering wheel.
Marco shrugs, steering one-handed like he was born doing this. “Got my start lifting cars for my uncle. I was fifteen.”
He says it with pride.
Hannah shakes her head slowly, the expression on her face suggesting she’s mentally drafting a very stern lecture for a man she’s never met.
The sound of sirens slowly fades into the distance. After checking the rearview mirror, Marco declares us free and clear. “I don’t see anyone tailing us,” he says.
He drives us to our apartment building without even asking for directions, which freaks me out until I remember that Hannah gave him her address. He was supposed to pick her up tonight.
That seems like a million years ago.
Not wanting him to know the code, I punch it in so the gate lifts and he can drive the car down to our underground garage. I have a moment of panic, thinking he’ll peel out of here. Kidnap Hannah and take her away from me.
Instead, Marco parks neatly between the lines. Even checks the mirrors twice.
We all climb out of the car and just…stand there, blinking at one another under the flickering fluorescent lights of the garage.
