“We will. How did it even end up in a dump like this?” Goon Two peers around the antique store in distaste.
I have absolutely nothing to compare this store to, but I feel like it must be okay if Penny frequents it. I mean, dusty, crusty chipped paint is someone’s thing, right? I’ve seen commercials for entire TV shows about it, like “old as fuck” is an aesthetic people actually want.
But while I’m thinking about the weirdness of decorating, my brain has been crunching on the nuggets the goons just said. Huge diamond worth at least ten thousand. Miles. Boss. Kill.
Holy fuck. And no fucking way.
The realization hits me like a two-ton wrecking ball right to the gut. The ring Penny bought, the one that was stolen, the one these guys want and think she still has ... belongs to Miles Conniver. As in the Mob boss of the city, Miles Conniver.
Sure, things aren’t like the old movies where the Mob kills people in broad daylight or gives them concrete boots before dropping them into the river. Miles shows up to mayoral inaugurations, has box seats at the Hawks games, and if you didn’t look too closely, you’d think he’s just a rich businessman.
But if you know, you know. He didn’t make his millions with good business deals. He did it with intimidation, threats, bribes, and if you believe the rumors, probably an occasional murder to keep things working in his favor. He might appear slick and fancy now, but there’s a darkness beneath his expensive suits, and he’s not someone to mess with.
Before I’ve even made the decision in my mind, my feet are moving, making a mad dash for the door. Running on instinct, I know Penny, and I need to get the hell out of Dodge. Immediately.
But my cardio is not what I would’ve thought it to be, and two back-to-back sprints is doing a number on my heart rate and breathing. Or maybe that’s the fear.
I’m a beast on the ice. I break rules when needed and don’t hesitate in throwing punches. But that’s different. It’s a world where that’s expected and accepted.
Miles Conniver lives in an entirely different world. One where losing something he values can result in much more than a few minutes in the penalty box. It can cost everything.
It could cost Penny her life.
As the bell over the door tinkles above me, I hear the cashier say, “Oh! There she is. On the bench across the street.”
I don’t need to turn around to know she’s pointing out the window to Penny, who’s sitting in full view in the sunshine right where I left her, wiping her tears away as she tries to rally some positivity the way she always does.
Two seconds, and I’m across the street.
One second more, and I’m in front of her. “Up, up, get up. Let’s go. Now.” I grab hold of her arm, pulling her to her feet.
“What’d Carolynn say?”
Another second of delay that we can’t have. “Later. Let’s go. Move it, or I’m gonna move you, woman.”
She jerks her arm out of my grip. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” Her fire is back, thankfully, even if it’s for the wrong reason. She can use all that anger to run, because we need to go.
“Penelope.” I’m hoping using her full government name, something I’ve never done, will turn that fire into an inferno. “Move your ass ... now.”
And with that, I physically shove her down the sidewalk. Which means that, Penny being who she is, she promptly trips over her own feet. I catch her before she tumbles to the ground but keep the momentum, throwing her over my shoulder and catching behind her knees with my arm, holding her securely.
“Upsy-daisy,” I declare.
“Griffin Mahoney, you put me down right this second. What the fuck, man?” she shouts, drawing eyes from all around us. When she starts kicking her feet and pummeling my back with her fists, a few people give me concerned looks.
“She’s into that BookTok stuff, you know,” I mumble, rolling my eyes like I’m annoyed by her little fantasy flirtations. The concern turns to wolfish grins.
“Lucky girl. Make sure to smack her ass,” one lady suggests with a wink and a knowing nod.
Figuring it couldn’t hurt, I slap my palm against the ass that has been the object of my dreams ... and my nightmares.
Penny gasps in shock, but she does still.
“You did not just do that,” she sputters. But she doesn’t sound angry or, well, not any angrier.
Huh, maybe she is into that.
I’ll have to save that for later. It can’t matter right now, because we’ve got to get out of here. I’m making long strides to move us farther away from the antique store and the goons who are now going to be looking for Penny. I turn the nearest corner, and then another and another, trying to zigzag away so they can’t follow us.
