“I know you set me up,” Marcus insisted. “Lilith already verified that Cole Dalton has the real Puffin. You’ve been making all sorts of replicas for him, haven’t you? Muddying the waters, trying to get more money out of the rest of us.”
Cheyenne squawked. “You’rethe one who pulled everybody into this theft in the first place! All your talk about the Puffinbeing a one-of-a-kind artifact, priceless and gorgeous—youset everyone up, not me! You?—”
“Shut the fuck up!” There was aclick, and Will stiffened as he saw a light flare up in the dark space. “This is your last chance to come clean, or I burn this place to the ground like I did the last one, and?—”
“There they go, cops are moving,” Will said. “Finally, damn.”
“And that’s our cue to leave,” Desiree said, already heading for the door. “You coming?”
He should, but… “I’m gonna make sure she gets out first.”
Desiree sighed. “There’s nothing you can do for Cheyenne now, Will. She’s either going to make it out, or she won’t. Either way, she’s on her own.”
He hated the fact that she was right. “You go, I’m right behind you,” he said as he broke down the scope, tucked it into his overalls, and pushed the custodian’s cart to the side of the room. He wiped it down, just to be safe, and made sure the cameras were still off before heading down to the first floor. He was on the verge of opening the door to the stairwell when the lights came on.
It wasn’t even six a.m. Why were the lights on?
Then he saw the police through the tiny glass window in the metal door, wandering among the too-thin mannequins with weapons drawn. Apparently Commissioner Isaac was trying to cover all her bases by investigating multiple locations. Or maybe Alders had caught sight of him on a camera and clued them in. Or…
It didn’t matter. Will had to go,now.He took the back door and sighed in relief at the empty alleyway. Desiree was nowhere in sight—perfect, she’d gotten away. He was almost to the street when the cop car pulled up in front of the alley, lights flashing.
Well, shit.Will grabbed his phone and texted out a quick SOS to Cole, then turned and ran in the opposite direction. He heardshouts behind him, commands to lie down that he ignored, then the crack of a gun going off.
He turned the corner and ran for his life.
CHAPTER 20
With his right knee out of commission, driving was a bear, but like hell was Cole leaving Will up Shit Creek. Gritting his teeth as he awkwardly used his left foot on the pedals, he whipped around a corner. Of course he wasn’t used to operating the pedals like this, and he applied a little too much pressure to the accelerator, which sent him careening into the opposite lane. He very nearly clipped a Tesla, managed to course correct, and sped down a narrow side street.
His heart pounded as he scanned the sidewalks and alleys, hunting for some sign of Will in the shadows and the flickering blue lights from all the cops.
“Come on, come on,” he muttered over the whining engine. “Whereareyou?”
In his mind, a million worst-case scenarios tried to play out. Will had already been arrested. He’d been shot. He’d been hit by one of the cop cars driving as recklessly as Cole.
Marcus had killed him.
No. No, none of that had happened. Will was just calling on all the self-preservation he possessed to stay out of sight so he didn’t get arrested, shot, or run over.
I should’ve gone in with him. I should’ve?—
That was stupid. With his fucked up knee, Cole would’ve been a liability. They would’ve all been arrested, shot, or run over because he’d have slowed them all down and?—
Red lights broke through the blue, turning the flashes to an otherworldly purple. Sirens screamed. When he came to the end of another side street… oh, shit.
Cheyenne’s other studio was ablaze. FDNY trucks were pulling up from all directions, lighting up the darkness alongside the cops.
The cops, like the ones who’d just spotted Cole and were peeling away from the curb beside a ladder truck.
“Shit,” he muttered, and threw the car into reverse. He backed up to execute a three-point turn, but hit the gas harder than he should have. The back of the car slammed into a dumpster, the jolt sending pain up Cole’s back. He swore again, shifted into drive, and floored the gas again. Again, too much—he hit the opposite curb, bumped back onto the road, fishtailed a little, and then took off, swearing aloud as his whole body bitched about the abuse.
Up ahead, a shadow emerged into the flashing blue.
Will. Holy shit, that was Will.
Cole practically drifted up to him, and he’d barely come to a stop before Will threw open the passenger door and flung himself inside. Cole didn’t even wait for the door to shut or for Will to be all the way in before he gunned the engine again. Will yelped as he tried to hang on and get his door shut. Another hard turn slammed the door, and Will shouted for him to go, go, go.
As if Cole had any intention of dawdling.
