Ghost’s hand dropped out of the open vent in the ceiling, and I grabbed my gun as I rushed forward, leaping up to grab his hand so he could tow me up.
The extra men burst in just as I disappeared.
“Shoot them!” Grimaldi ordered, and bullets started spraying the ceiling like heavy rainfall.
We weren’t quiet as we scrambled through the vents, banging and cursing as bullets plowed through drywall and dented the metal.
Instead of going out the same place we went in, Ghost led us farther until we reached the building’s laundry facility. We dropped into the empty space filled with massive equipment, and then Ghost climbed into a hole in the wall.
“See you on the flipside,” he said and dropped.
I followed, falling down a long, narrow tube that spit me out into a large bin of trash. My hand slid into something wet and slimy when I sat up, and my left foot got lost in large black bags filled with something that smelled worse than a dead body.
Ghost disappeared over the side, and I shook my arm off, following. Saying nothing, we left from a service door that exited on the opposite side of the building than where we entered.
He was already sitting shotgun when I slid into the SUV, and he rolled his head in my direction, grinning like the asshole he was.
“Really, Ghost? The trash,” I deadpanned.
He laughed. “You should have seen your face.”
Sliding my tongue over my teeth, I swiped my sticky, infested hand across his cheek and then smooshed it against his lips.
“Ohhh, that’s nasty!” he hollered, shoving my hand away.
“If I get the plague, you’re paying for my antibiotics.”
“It’s good for the immune system.”
I gave him the finger and pulled away from the curb, turning down the first alley I saw, and then took several more streets and alleys, doubling back a few times and making sure we weren’t being followed.
When I was finally satisfied, I headed for home.
Clearing my throat, I said, “So, ah, thank you for having my back in there.”
“You mean thanks for shooting that man in the back of the head before you had to explain why you had a new bullet hole when you got home?”
“That’s what I said,” I retorted. “Just without all the thespian detail.”
“Details matter.”
I sighed. “I appreciate it. You didn’t have to come, but you did.”
“You’d have done the same for me.”
I said nothing.
He cleared his throat.
“I would,” I relented.
“Was that so hard?” he teased.
Excruciating.“Next time, just let me get shot.”
“Now who’s the thespian?”
I grunted. “That was a complete shit show.”
