Panic soars through my chest as multiple sirens wail through the distance, and there’s not a single doubt in my mind that they’re coming for us. Forhim. That hitman didn’t just call it in; he made sure the whole fucking world knew where Stone Blackthorne was.
We run like our lives depend on it, Stone taking the brunt of our belongings to lessen my load, knowing I can’t move nearly half as fast as he can. He grabs my hand, pulling me along as we race down four flights of stairs, and despite the overwhelming fear of falling, I keep pushing myself faster, knowing he’ll never let that happen.
We pass the dead hitman, and apart from the blade protruding from his throat, I can almost imagine that he’s just sleeping. With that comforting thought, I race straight past him without a second glance.
I feel as though I’m running a marathon, my heart never having pounded so fast in my damn life. It’s different now. When we were escaping through the sewer line, there was a calmness about it. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut and keep moving. We didn’t have anyone on our tail, not like this. When we were pinned up against that house while the Sheriff was talking to his wife on his porch, that was the closest we’ve come to being caught, yet we were still in control. This right here, this is the difference between freedom and being shot down in the street.
Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t have a chance to dwell on them as we finally reach the ground floor and break through the entrance of the apartment complex. The sirens are louder out here, almost deafening, and as Stone clutches me tighter, he spares a glance my way, and it’s the first time I’ve seen real fear in his eyes.
Terrified of going back. Of being shot down in the street. Of losing me all over again. But it’s not going to happen, not if I have anything to do with it.
We keep running, racing across the street toward the Honda and launching our things into the back seat. We dive into the car, the doors slamming with a heavy thud just as the first cop car careens around the corner, racing toward the apartment complex.
Stone doesn’t skip a beat, hitting the gas and screeching out of his parking space, pulling out just moments before the cops reach us. They hit the brakes, their target being the apartment complex, and for just a moment, I think we’re going to be alright, when a second cop car flies at us from the other direction.
We pass straight by, but the game is up the second the cops watch us pass and zone in on Stone’s face.
“Fuck,” he grunts, dodging and weaving through the traffic as the cop fishtails and whips his car around, racing after us. “Fuck. FUCK!”
I twist in my seat, gripping the headrest with one hand, the other braced against the dashboard as Stone’s wild driving jerks us both around in the car. His gaze flicks between the rearview mirror and the road, keeping an eye on the cops behind us, and as I turn in my seat, staring out the back window, horror slams through my chest. It’s not just two cops. There must be at least a dozen of them flying after us as though Stone’s capture is the one thing standing between them and eternal glory.
Every turn we take, there they are, just as adamant as Stone is, but the look in his eyes . . . While I’ve never seen it before or properly understand what this man is capable of, there’s a determination that can’t be denied. Our road doesn’t end here today, and I believe it deep in my soul. He’ll find a way out of this. He has to, because I’m not losing him now, not after I only just got him back.
The sun is lowering in the sky, sending deep orange rays shooting through the city and directly into my eyes. I squint against the harsh brightness, my gaze continuously whipping back and forth between the road and the cops, and every time I glance back, their numbers seem to double.
“Fuck, Stone. There are too many of them.”
He scoffs just as he grabs the handbrake, pulling it up and turning the steering wheel to the left, cutting off oncoming traffic and sending us drifting around the corner like we’re inThe Fast and the Furious. Stone hits the gas again, and we fly down a tight alley street, the cops not fast enough to make the turn, and the few who misjudge their speed slam straight intothe walls of the small businesses that line the street, blocking anyone else from coming after us.
Stone just grins at me, a smugness in his eyes that makes me want to jump him right here and now. “What was that?”
“You’re impossible, you know that, right?”
His eyes seem to sparkle, and I swear, in that very moment, I fall head over heels in love with this man, but as he continues roaring through the streets, it becomes more than clear that this isn’t the time to dwell on the fact that I’m falling for a convicted murderer who’s more than likely going to end up back behind bars.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
The sirens continue wailing through the city, trying to find alternate routes to cut us off, but Stone is too fast, and he claims these streets like a goddamn king, knowing them better than he seems to know every facet of my past.
He flies out the opposite end of the alley, speeding toward an oncoming rush of cops, and while a few of them attempt to play chicken with Stone and get in our way, they don’t have the balls to follow through. Not like Stone does. At the last second, they dart out of our path, and we sail straight past them.
A helicopter hovers above us, tracking our every move, and my heart races, having no damn clue how we’re supposed to outrun this. “Stone,” I panic.
“Your lack of faith in me is starting to offend,” he says so casually, as though he doesn’t even notice every cop, SWAT officer, and fed in the state currently on our ass. “Being on the run is where I excel, Menace. Let me do my thing.”
I blow out a heavy breath, my heart never having raced this fast in my life. “You know there is something fundamentally wrong with you, right?”
He just laughs, and I hate how much he’s enjoying this.
At some point, we won’t be able to keep outrunning them. They have numbers at their back, and at some point, we’re going to be hit with roadblocks that we can’t avoid, and when that happens, Stone is going to run, leaving them no choice but to take lethal action to bring him down.
“Come here,” he says, patting his lap as he takes another right and sends us soaring toward the harbor.
I gape at him. “The fuck is wrong with you?” I demand as he takes another turn, keeping us parallel to the water. “I know this shit gets you bricked up like a conspiracy theorist on a podcast, but now is not the time to indulge in sloppy road head.”
“Fuck’s sake,” he laughs. “You know I’m not opposed to any form of road head, and while I’m sure you have tongue skills that would put me in an early grave, I doubt even you could get the job done in the next three seconds.”
I gape at him, having no fucking idea what he’s talking about. “Three seconds?” I ask, deciding now probably isn’t the time to confirm, that yes, indeed, I do have some particularly notable skills with my tongue, but he’ll have to wait to discover that little trick of mine.
