As I finished my smoke, I wandered over to the bag he’d been clutching as if his life depended on it, nudging the trampled contents with my shoe.
The scent of chili wafted upward, mixing with my nicotine. Frankly unbelieving, I bent down to see what else was in there. No way he’d been hanging on that hard to just food.
But it was just food. Busted cracker packets, leaking creamer cups, and part of a grilled cheese sandwich with the indent of a Nike. Straightening, I dropped the butt of the cigarette onto the ground and snuffed it out with my shoe. Picking it back up, I stuck it in my pocket. Like hell I’d leave behind my DNA.
Turning away, I relieved these assholes of the stolen cash and all the other money they had between them. It was really the least I could do.
Greedy bastards.
I shoved it all into the pocket of my leather jacket and turned back to the pipsqueak.
He kinda glowed like an angel, a spot of light in this otherwise dark space. Blond hair, pale skin, and a small face. Not even the blood and bruises could detract from his looks.Beautiful.
Who are you?I wondered even as I knew it didn’t matter.
One thing about me, though? I’m nosy. Even if it ain’t my business, it’s my business.
Taking advantage of his unzipped coat, I dug around in his pockets, looking for an ID. Consider my interest piqued when there wasn’t one to be found. Of course, I had to check his jeans, which, frankly, were threadbare. No wonder his skin was nearly translucent. He was severely underdressed for a Buffalo winter. In the last pocket, my fingers brushed a card, and I tugged it free. It was so dark that I couldn’t read it,so I carried it over and used the beam of the flashlight still pointing at the sky. At least it was useful for something.
It was a library card.
My man didn’t have a wallet, driver’s license, or any other form of ID, but he had a library card?
What a geek.
Not a pipsqueak—a pipgeek.
Ah, and the geek had a name. Garrett Redding.
Adjusting the mask over my face, I stuffed the card back in his pocket, zipped up the coat, and lifted him into my arms. He was light, alarmingly so, and it made me think about the trampled food. Maybe I shoulda broke some necks instead of just knocking them all out.
He stirred, and I glanced down, but his eyes were still closed.
“You’re safe now, Pip,” I whispered.
He stirred again, curling closer into my chest and burying his face in leather.
Tightening my arms around him, I slid easily back into the shadows, the darkness concealing us both.
CHAPTER
THREE
Rett
My gasp shattered the silence, consciousness slamming into place as my eyes flew wide. As I jerked upright, the hood of my coat snapped back against my shoulders.
Despite the sudden awareness, I was disoriented, brain struggling to catch up to where I was. Or, rather, where I wasn’t. The room was too quiet, too warm, the ground beneath me not uncomfortable at all.
Blinking, I attempted to focus my addled mind, and slowly, my surroundings came into focus. White walls and a large window framed in black but obscured partly by floor-to-ceiling curtains. Turned out, focusing only made me more confused because…
Where am I?
This was not where I’d been.
Where was I?
Memories of the three thugs in the alley, the clanking fence, my aching fingers, and the sensation of warm blood oozing over my cheek had my fingers flying up to my facewhere they prodded what felt like bandages.
