Blaize sat on a step two doors down from the bar in the back alley. The barback would have to empty the trash as part of his closing duties. This spot would give Blaize an advantage. He could clearly see the door from this vantage point. From farther down the alley, Carys could keep watch over him. She had a tire iron from his Jeep to use as a weapon or, better yet, figure out how to give to him if something went south.
The door opened. He tried not to move a muscle or breathe. The barback stepped outside with a full trash bag, as anticipated. He kicked a bucket over to stop the door from closing. It must’ve locked automatically.
Blaize scanned the area in search of any suspicious movement. The barback hadn’t explicitly asked Blaize to meet outside. In fact, he probably expected a visit in the bar before closing like he’d requested. A thin crowd meant the possibility of eyes on them, exposing the barback for possible retribution. The guy came across like he was sticking his neck out. Blaize wanted to honor it.
“Pssst,” he hissed in an attempt to get the guy’s attention without freaking him out.
“Hey, Thomas.” The male bartender stepped outside and lit a smoke. “Why didn’t you stock the glasses under the bar like I told you to? Now it’ll take even more time to close out, and I can’t leave here until everything is stocked.”
Thomas.Blaize had a first name to work with now.
Thomas’s gaze flicked over toward the spot where Blaize was sitting. Did the guy just give them away?
“We were slammed all night,” Thomas said, pushing back. “Last I checked, I only have two hands and you kept me hopping all night. Or don’t you remember?”
Thomas was skinny and in need of a haircut. He had blond hair and light eyes, looked to be a freshman in college or maybe a sophomore at most.
“Excuses,” the bartender said, leaning his back against the bricks. He brought his foot up, sole flat against the wall. “Just because you’re Angel’s nephew doesn’t mean you can’t get fired.”
“Go ahead, then,” Thomas said, unfazed. “Tell my uncle that I’m doing a bad job and you want me gone. See how that works out for you while you’re out here smoking instead of pitching in. You know, we’ll lock up a hell of a lot faster if you put out that cigarette and get back to work.”
The bartender flinched like he was about to throw a punch.
“Go ahead and do it,” Thomas teased. “Or get out of my way so I can toss the trash into the dumpster, dude.”
Blaize liked the kid’s spunk. He took note of the fact that the guy’s uncle was important to the bar. Manager? Owner?
A squad car turned down the alley.
If the same cop from a little while ago was behind the wheel, Blaize was busted. How much trouble could he get into for being caught lying to an officer? He needed to signal Carys to get out of there. She was positioned down the alley far enough to slip into the groups of folks walking around or standing in line at one of the nearby taco food trucks lining the street.
Could he slip away unseen? Join her?
A quick glance revealed her coming toward him with her back against the wall.No, no, no.
From the corner of his eye, he caught the bartender dropping the cigarette butt before crushing it underneath his shoe. Heslipped inside and, like the jerk he was proving to be, tapped the bucket away, causing the door to close and lock.
“What are you doing?” he whispered to Carys as she approached. “You had a chance to escape.” There was a slim possibility the officer—if it was him—wouldn’t have recognized Blaize without her. With her, it was almost a given.
Instead of responding, she fisted his shirt and tugged him up to standing. Then she pressed up to her tiptoes, turned them so that her back was against the wall, and pulled him toward her until their mouths fused.
The cop car crept down the alley, coming toward them, but for a split second, Blaize lost all sense of time and place. The second her lips met his, fireworks exploded in his chest, the world tilted on its axis, and he felt like he was right where he was supposed to be.
With great effort, Blaize forced his attention back to the alley and out of the blissful fog of need.
He heard Thomas swearing along with the sounds of the oversized trash bag being forced into an already-full dumpster.
Next came the hum of the vehicle’s engine. It stopped. A window rolled down.
“You can’t stay here. Move on.” The officer’s unfamiliar voice caused Blaize to exhale.
“Sorry,” he said, moving to take Carys by the hand and heading toward Thomas without making eye contact.
The squad car sat idle. The officer was likely assessing whether he believed they were sober. They must have passed because the engine hummed and rocks crunched underneath the tires.
Thomas cursed as he tried the door.
“Hey,” Blaize said as they approached, hand in hand.
