I nod, wishing things were easier, and as the idea of having to return to the city truly takes root, terrifying the absolute crap out of me, it dawns on me just how close we both came to losing our lives.
I wasn’t just tortured by these men; I was hung from a meat hook by my ankles and beat until I bled. They had no intention of sparing my life, and all for the purpose of breaking Stone, meaning I am his one and only weakness.
“Menace,” he murmurs a moment later, breaking me out of the dark fog claiming my every thought. “I don’t want to panic you, but you have about three seconds before I pass out.”
“WHAT!” My gaze whips toward him, and I slam on the brakes just in time to watch as his body goes limp in the seat. “FUCK!”
Panic surges through my body, and I dive across the car, my fingers all but slamming against his throat, feeling for a pulse and making sure the big asshole didn’t just die on me. I find a pulse quickly, but it’s faint, and it makes my stomach clench with fear.
I have to help him somehow. I can’t just leave him like this, otherwise, he really will die, and that’s not about to happen on my watch.
Hitting the gas again, I fly down the highway until I come to the very next exit, and I take it without a care in the world, sailing into the suburbs.
“Shit,” I mutter, not sure this is where I need to be.
It’s the middle of the night, and as I speed through the streets, I come up blank. Just as I start thinking about turning around, I take a left onto the main street of the area. The road is lined with businesses, most closed at this late hour, but as I continue down the road, I find the town wide awake.
Nightclubs and bars are open, music booming through the street. Men hang out in the windows of sports bars, screaming at the TV, while drunk girls wander the streets, trying to get themselves home after a wild night of partying. There’s a 24-hour diner, and just beside that, a gas station that, for some reason, also moonlights as a tattoo parlor, but to each their own.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay,” I say to myself, trying to put a plan together as I pass the clubs to find somewhere quiet I can park where the escaped criminal won’t be caught passed out in the front seat.
Looping around the block, I find a deserted street and drive until the shadows consume the black Charger, concealing us in darkness. Only then do I pull into an alleyway between two buildings, hiding us away as best I can.
Nerves eat at me as I cut the engine and glance toward Stone, not wanting to leave him, but I have no choice. If he’s going to have any chance at survival, I have to do this.
Unease eats at me, and I twist around to search the back seat for anything helpful. On top of an old gym bag, there’s a black hoodie, so I snatch it up and pull it over my head, cringing at the movement. Apparently, lifting my arm higher than my shoulders is a no-go for now.
The hoodie smells like stale man sweat and cigarettes, but it will have to do, because the alternative is walking around covered head to toe in blood, and that’s not an option tonight. That’s the quickest way to get noticed, and I’m not down for distractions.
I go to push out of the car when I spare another glance at Stone. He’s too exposed like this. All it would take is one nosy person to peek through the window, and it’s game over.
Letting out a breath, I grab the key and shove it down into my bra, not having anywhere else to stash it as I climb out of the car and hurry around to Stone’s side. I open the door, grab the lever on the side of the chair, and recline it as far as it will go. Then, reaching into the back, I grab the gym bag and dig around. Sure enough, there’s an unwashed sweat towel, and going against my better judgment, I spread it out over him, covering the blood stains on his shirt and his defining tattoo, pulling it right up to his face. To anyone who might look in now, he just looks like someone who had too much to drink and decided to crash in his car instead of driving home, which is honestly the responsible thing to do.
Certain I’ve left him as safe as I can, I lock the car behind me before slipping into the darkness.
It’s a short walk around the block, but I move quickly, despite the way my body protests in pain, and with each passing step, I bring myself closer to the nightclub. There are people everywhere, and I pull the hood up over my head, concealing my thick auburn hair as I make my way into the fray.
I dodge and weave through the people as they loiter in the street, keeping my head down while also searching for an easy target. It’s not hard, I spot them almost immediately. A group of girls who have had more than a good night. They’re laughing in the street as though they haven’t got a care in the world, and as I look over them, I find exactly what I need.
Lining myself up with them, I slow my pace, needing to time this just right, and as I grow closer, I step directly into a gorgeous blonde as she howls with laughter. Her body swings back, accidentally shoving me against the parked car in the street, and I let myself sway, lifting her purse that’s been left on the hood.
“Oh shit,” the girl says, whipping around to face me as pain shoots through my body, but I do what I can to conceal it. She reaches out, grabs my upper arm, and makes sure I’m on my feet. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I’m such a klutz.”
“It’s okay,” I say with a smile, keeping my feet moving and not letting her get a good look at my face. “My fault. Have a good night.”
“Oh, I will,” she cheers as her friends join in, and clutching her purse tight to my chest, I pick up my pace, getting lost between the bodies. I almost feel bad, and if Stone didn’t need medical attention so badly, I’d march my ass back down there and give it back. But, the reality is, she probably has a nice home to go to at the end of the night. She’ll shower and wash her makeup off before climbing into her cozy bed, and she won’thave to worry about being assassinated in the street, kidnapped, or held at gunpoint. She might be pissed, sure, but she’ll be okay. Stone,though, he won’t.
Getting past the nightclub, I slip into the alley between the gas station and the 24-hour diner before peeking inside the purse, relieved when I find a credit card, the girl’s driver’s license, and almost two hundred dollars in small bills.
Thank God for drunk, independent women who like to be prepared for all occasions.
The credit card might be useful, but the chances are she’ll get a notification on her phone when I tap the card, and I don’t want to risk it. So for now, it’s the cash.
Looking up at my options, I figure out my gameplan. The diner could offer coffee and a bathroom to clean myself up. There might be a nice waitress who could potentially allow me to take some napkins, food, and water for Stone. But the gas station will have everything I need on the shelf. The only problem is, there are likely surveillance cameras.
Fuck. I have to risk it.
Stepping out of the alley, I turn to the right, taking me toward the gas station, and as I slip inside the automatic doors, I pull down on the hood, making sure my face is properly covered before slinking deeper into the aisles.
