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I drop my bag. With one hand gripping the chicken’s legs, and the other on its chest, I nod in the direction of sweet freedom. “Just go. I’ll be right behind you.”
Reluctantly, Logan shifts to the balls of his feet before he takes off in a sprint.
“Say hello to my little friend.” Like an eight ball, I give it a quick shake, and the second Silas rounds the cart, I chuck it at him.
“Fuck!” His cell phone clatters to the ground as the chicken clings to his chest, wings flapping furiously.
Not wasting another second, I bolt.
I’m hot on Logan’s heels, narrowly avoiding the shoe the wine vendor chucks past my head.
“Did you throw a fucking chicken at him, Penelope?”
I bark a laugh as we race through a maze of stacked crates. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”
In the distance, we hear a male voice shout, “That way!”
I turn to find not one, but two armed officers tearing after us, with clouds of dust billowing up behind them.
“You may want to pick up the pace,” I singsong, thankful for the shade the canopy between the buildings provides.
Logan’s shock morphs into exasperation when he glances over his shoulder. “This is ludicrous. We did nothing wrong.”
“The Topican police are more the punishment now, questions later type,” I inform him.
His face twitches with humor when he drops back, positioning himself behind me before knocking over a tower of empty crates. “Then you’d better keep up.”
“Stop where you are, thieves,” one of them shouts.
They aren’t far behind as we weave our way through various vendors, ducking and dodging anyone who blocks our path. Clothing and other knick-knacks hanging above our heads slap at our cheeks, and the aroma of street food wafts around us.
My shoes skid through a patch of loose gravel when Logan stops at a wooden cart with piles of rugs stacked on top of each other. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry, miss,” he says to the cart owner.
With a quick flick, he unlocks the latch, sending the rugs rolling to the ground toward the officers, knocking them on their asses.
“Hey!” she cries, but we’re already gone.
Our cheeks split and our lungs heave with laughter at their feet flying up above their heads.
“Did you see that?” Logan beams proudly. “They fell like a couple of bowling pins.”
I flank his side, sprinting as hard as I can to keep up. “Impressive fugitive work. Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We’re forced to slow for a group of bike carts, but the alley is close enough that I can see the entrance.
“What now?” he pants.
“This way.” Grabbing his hand, I yank him sideways, past a scarf and jewelry display.
He swipes one purple and one gold scarf off the table before dropping more bills than they’re worth on top of the vacant register. We shake them out and quickly wrap them around our heads before ducking inside the shadow-laden alley.
“Is this really the best time to take a call?” I ask when Logan raises his phone to his ear.
“I’m having Javier pick us up. He shouldn’t be far.”
Sunlight pours through the exit up ahead, but we stop to catch our breath for a moment, plastering our backs against the building behind us while he phones his driver.
