A bag was shoved over my head, and something tight yanked around my throat. Absolutely panicked, I reached up, clawing at the band, which felt like a zip tie, trying to break it free.
It was too tight. I couldn’t see…
“Nighty-night,” someone sang, and then there was nothing at all.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
Ghost
When the clock hit five minutes, I started to pace.
When it turned to six, I stepped out of the shadows and started across the street. A hand dropped onto my shoulder, pulling me back.
He should have been out by now.“It’s been too long. I’m going in.”
“I’m coming with you.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Kieran, partly surprised.
“Ride or die,” he said simply.
All the streetlights were busted, which was definitely not a coincidence. Even so, I didn’t bother to move in the shadows. They would know I was coming the second I walked in the door anyway. I wanted them to know I was coming. It would give them someone to shoot at that wasn’t Rett.
I expected gunfire the second we breached the building, but everything remained still. I glanced at Kieran and knew the look on his face mirrored my own.
Something was off.
I started running, Kieran right beside me, taking the steps two at a time and going headfirst toward the flickering light at the end of the hall. The urge to yell out for Pip forced its way up the back of my throat, his name lodging there like a heavy stone. I burst into the room first, gun drawn, with Kieran at my back.
It was empty except for a lone chair.
“Rett!” I yelled, and I swear it echoed back. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I noted the signal was still jammed. I couldn’t track him without a goddamned signal!
“Where the fuck are they?” I roared.
“Here,” Kieran called, heading toward an open door at the back of the room.
I lunged through without even checking, ignoring the way Kieran cursed behind me and ran down the dark corridor to burst through another door that opened up into some kind of parking garage.
Red taillights were disappearing around a pillar, and I took off after them.
The car was heading toward a ramp that led to the street, a white van in front of it already turning into traffic.
I stopped running and, ignoring my ragged breathing and the thumping of my heart, raised the gun. I leveled my concentration and popped off a shot.
The back tire exploded, and the car fishtailed violently, the driver trying to keep it steady.
I started running again as the car careened to the side and slid into a three-sixty.
Before the car was even stopped, I leaped onto the hoodand fired another shot into the windshield. It exploded, and the man behind the wheel yelled.
The car lurched to a stop, the engine still running. The smell of exhaust filled the concrete space. From behind the wheel, a man stared in shock as I rose to my feet on the hood, boots crunching over broken glass.
“Pip!” I yelled, trying to see into the shadowed back seat.
He started to laugh.
