“Youare Night Wolfe?” I grit out.
42
RUST
Wolfe’s eyes narrow.“So what if I am…”
I grin with devilish glee. “Oh boy, then you’re in for a world of pain.”
I grab him by the scruff of his neck, dragging him toward the south exit. How did I get so lucky? I never would’ve thought my revenge fantasies from Pine Bluff would come true, but fate delivered the bastard right into my hands. Or maybe it was his own stupidity.
We’ve almost reached the door to the parking lot when a shout comes from behind us.
“Sirs, stop!”
Maybe if I ignore it, it will go away?
“Hey, the old guy with the tomato sauce on his shirt and the tall, beefy dude with the mustache! Halt!”
Guess not. I shoulda known the chase would attract attention. At least I didn’t get put into the old guy category. Beefy sounds like a compliment. It’s a small win, but a win nevertheless.
“Better behave or I’ll recommend to Tally that she goeswith my option, the bullet to the head,” I hiss at Wolfe. “We’re two best buds at the mall. Got it?”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “G-got it.”
I turn around with a wide smile, twirling Wolfe along by the arm. A chubby kid jogs over, wearing a baggy black uniform and a cap readingsecurityin bold yellow letters. He scowls like he thinks he’s the local sheriff, not a boy who just got his first job as a mall cop straight outta high school.
His stance widens as he stops in front of us. He gives us a once-over, one hand on the taser at his hip, the other thumb hooked into his belt. “Do you need help, sir?”
“Naw, we’re good,” I say.
The kid frowns. “I was talking to the guy with the meatballs stuck to his chest.”
“My bad.” Subtly, I poke Wolfe’s back. “Go on then, tell him you’re fine.”
Wolfe clears his throat. “I uh…” He glances at me then back to the mall cop, giving a creepy smirk. “I’m fine.”
I raise my hands. “There you have it!”
“You caused quite a ruckus, sirs,” the mall cop scolds in a tone he probably copied from one of his disappointed teachers.
My smile freezes. Fuck, I need an excuse. A good one. Something believable.
I glance around the storefronts when I see the teens from before. One of them is playing music from his phone while another films two girls doing a dance, which consists mostly of arm movements and hair flipping. It’s reminiscent of the wacky waving inflatable arm-flailing tube man, but their friends love it, cheering them on.
Must be one of those online trends for that clock app. Ding-Dong or what was it?
My eyes widen. That’s it! Nowadays people doanything for internet fame, so why not a wild chase through the mall?
I look at the mall cop, putting a hand on my heart. “We’re sorry for causing trouble, but we were filming a comedy stunt for our…”
I scratch my head, stalling for time as I rack my brain.
What was that website I searched for country concert clips on the school library computer?
“For ourYouTubechannel,” I finally say, internally high fiving myself. “I got a tiny body cam right here in the button of my shirt and my buddy has one, too. Real spy shit.”
Yes, Rust! You nailed this! Super believable.
