“Right here.” Connor knocks on the door and Gilligan, his driver, pops open the lock.
I motion for Lo to climb in before me. He sways on his feet, needing no other encouragement. When he’s safely on the leather seat, I begin to relax. Somewhat.
“Where’s your purse?” Connor asks. And then his eyes gradually widen. “Wait, you didn’t bring a purse, did you?”
“I-I…” I avoid Ryke. Is he going to shake me down? Hit me? His broad muscles tense, and I shrivel back in fear.
“What did you do?” Connor asks, horrified.
I open my mouth, but as I look up, I realize he didn’t address me. He glances from Ryke to the lawn where Ninja Turtles sprint out the door, dodging motionless zombies and heading straight for…us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Get in the car,”Ryke urges.
I hop in too fast and whack my head against the metal frame. I curse under my breath and rub the welt, ducking further inside. Lo lies on the longest seat, eyes closed and cradling his flask like a teddy bear. I sit beside him and rest my hand on his ankles.
Connor enters and surprisingly, Ryke follows suit. He slams the door and locks it. “Drive!” he yells.
Gilligan speeds down the suburban street, and the Ninja Turtles race after our getaway limo, their figures visible in the brightness of the taillights. When we gain more and more distance, they slow to a stop and fade into the darkness.
I spin back, facing Connor and Ryke.
Connor says, “Let me guess. There was no fight inside the house.”
Ryke watches Lo wheeze in an unconscious sleep. “I made it up,” he admits, sounding detached. “Is he okay?”
“Wait.” I hold up my hands. “What’s going on? Why did you help us?” He was standing on the sidelines watching the drama play out. He could have easily stayed there, not made a move, not intervened. Instead, he created an elaborate lie to get the Ninja Turtles inside and us to safety. Random acts of kindness do not exist in my world. The only answer that makes sense—he wants to be friends with us, choosing a billion dollar net worth over twenty-five million like Connor said.
For the first time, Ryke unfastens his gaze from Lo. “You think I could stand around and watch Matt drunkenly grab a girl?”
“Lots of people would,” I mumble. His brows scrunch into something hard and dark, making me more reserved and cautious.
“Yeah? Then people fucking suck.” He glances back at Lo who hugs his flask. All of a sudden Ryke leans forward and snatches the flask from Lo’s fingers. He unscrews the cap and rolls down the window.
“What are you doing?” I say, frantic. I jump to the other seat and try to pry the flask back. “That’s not yours!” I struggle to reach for the alcohol, so he won’t dump out the liquid onto the dirtied roads.
Ryke effortlessly holds the flask away from me, but I angle my body against the open window, blocking him from any sort of exit. He stares at me like I’ve suddenly mutated into a lizard. “What’s your problem?”
“That’snotyours to trash!”
“Yeah? I take it that’s your boyfriend?”
I glare, not saying a word otherwise.
Connor watches curiously but only observes.
Ryke swishes the liquid. “This,” he says, “caused all the fucking drama today. So I’m doing him a favor, you a favor, and everyone else in this fucking limo a favor by tossing it out.” He goes for the window again, and I spider the door, my arms stretched out to stop him. He places a hand above mine—his body so close that I feel the rise and fall of his ribs against my chest. Oh God…
He tries to pass me by extending an arm towards the window, but I knock it away. Amber liquid splashes over the both of us. And I fight against him for the flask, but I end up dousing us in more alcohol. To end the struggle, he pins my arms to the cushion. “Stop,” he forces.
I glare at his hold. “How is this any different than Matt grabbing me?”
His jaw hardens to stone. “I’m trying to help your boyfriend.” With this, he eases off and rests his back against the seat.
My bare stomach is slick with alcohol, and heat rises to my face at the remembrance of my actions. I pick up Lo’s emptyflask and slide onto my seat, my eyes still narrowing in distrust at Ryke. “Who are you?”
Connor’s eyebrows shoot up. “You don’t know him?”
