The trees whipped by in a blur of trunks and leaves.
she continued. She laughed; the pitch was wrong: too high.
Ordinarily too fast for a parking lot, Griffin traversed the one in front of the admin building in a sweeping arc. He stopped Clyde perpendicular to the lines, stretching across several of them. Brady parked Bonnie parallel to Clyde, right in the middle of the throughway.
There’d be no need to reverse for either car. Get in and race off straightaway.
Not that the getaway was our main concern. If we were having to escape, we’d have already failed, and there’d be nowhere within the boundaries of Ridgemore we could run where Magnum wouldn’t find us.
Other than us, the lot was vacant. Possibly, there was staff parking behind the building that we couldn’t see from here. From looks alone, the place looked empty.
Confident that Griffin was watching my back, I quickly turned to the back seat.
My sweet boy whined in protest but climbed down into the footwell. He curled into a ball, where no one would notice him unless they knew to look.
I cooed as I opened my door and hurried out, leaving the window rolled all the way down for him. Griffin’s was halfway open as well; plus, the day was comfortably cool. Bobo would be fine.
Closing my door, I patted Clyde fondly, then leaned my head into the window and said aloud, “I love you, boy. Be good. I’ll see you soon.”
Fuck, did I ever hope I was telling him the truth.
I was already stalking toward the back of the Mustangs when Bobo spoke through our bond.
A whimper, most unbecoming of the courage I was feigning to feel down to my bones, tumbled free.
Layla drew to my side and sighed, plopping a hand on my shoulder. “He just had to go and saylovelike a sweet lil’ chubby-cheeked toddler. Too damn cute.” She sniffed.
I pretended not to.
More distant machine-gun fire chopped the noontime air, making me even jumpier while we popped the trunks and all dovefor whatever weapons we could carry. I stuffed knives into every pocket of my jeans and tactical belt.
With guns in hand, eyes darting every which way, the five of us half jogged to the admin building’s front entrance. Brady yanked open one of the double doors for us, but Hunt darted away.
Unwilling to lose sight of any of them, I spun to watch him next to a large planter, pillaging a sizable stone from its base.
Wielding the gun and stone, he rushed back to us, placing it on the ground against the mullion.
Griffin said as I realized it was to keep the door from shutting.
Hunt nodded.
Layla said.
Without prearrangement, we aligned roughly into a star shape. Griffin and I were in the lead, scouting ahead. Brady and Layla walked behind and to the sides of us, scanning around desks, down halls, and into darkened offices. Hunt brought up the rear, walking half backward, half sideways, watching our backs.
Much like the last time we were here, the lights were recessed and dim, as if the place were shut down for the night, the barebones lighting left on for the nighttime security and cleaning staff.
When we arrived at the elevator bank, we hesitated, looking at one another.
Did we take the elevator and possibly trap ourselves in there like the proverbial sitting ducks? Or did we hunt for a stairwell we’d never used before and didn’t know where it would lead us?
Brady said into our link. My gut gurgled.
My eyes bulged in realization.
Brady swore, running his free hand along the fade of his hair before rubbing the full top.
