“Well, your eyes are lying to you.” He wiggled, testing his freedom. Breathing in deeply, he sucked in his stomach as tight as he could and eased forward. His belt buckle held tight to the lip of the window closure on the sill. He exhaled and swore at the same time.
“OK.” Ginny grabbed his wrists. “You’re gonna suck it in, and I’m gonna yank.”
She did, indeed, yank. Shepherd yelped, remembered to suck it in too late, and slid out of the window. She didn’t let go of his arms, instead backing up and pulling him as he went. Sensitive things hit the window that should not have hit the window. Shepherd gasped out what was supposed to be her name, but was actually another curse, and belly-flopped onto the ground.
Hector lay next to him, full of stolen money and judgment.
Shepherd rolled on to his side, holding himself, tears in his eyes.
Ginny clapped her hands. “We did it! Now, where’s Noah?”
FORTY-ONE
Noah sat in the driver’s seat of Ginny’s car, visibly sweating even from a hundred yards away, which was impressive when you thought about it. He was parked between the clubhouse and the neighboring strip mall, a half-abandoned stretch of concrete where the only businesses that remained open were check-cashing and liquor related.
He jumped when he saw them and started the car. Shepherd held on to the back of Hector, staples and other unknown sharp objects biting into his palms. Ginny’s car, while much cleaner than Shepherd’s, was still only a four-door sedan.
She opened the passenger’s side door. “Hey, Noah,” she greeted. “Sorry about this.”
“Sorry about what? The wait? Because—”
Ginny folded the front seat down. Then she and Shepherd shoved the painting inside. It filled up the length of the car, from the dashboard to the backseat. Hector frowned up at the rearview mirror.
Noah whimpered. “What,” he cried, “the hell?”
Ginny slammed the door shut. She and Shepherd hurried to the other side, cramming into what space was left available in the backseat.
Noah still whimpered.
“Buddy”—Shepherd clapped him on the shoulder—“you gotta move the car. Once those bikers get bored with the fire, they’re going to start heading back inside.”
Noah’s shaking hand gripped the steering wheel. “I just … I hate clowns.”
Ginny flung one leg over Shepherd’s lap and grabbed him by the lapels. “Take off your vest.”
“Virginia,” he said, scandalized. “Noah is in crisis.”
“Take off your jacket, dummy. I’m not trying to seduce you here.”
He gave her a look.
She rolled her eyes. “Promise.”
Shepherd took off his vest. Ginny reached over the console and covered Hector’s face with the pleather. “There,” she said. “All better!”
Noah glared at them both in the rearview. “I’m not a child.” He put the car in drive and turned into traffic. “But it did help. So. Whatever.”
Ginny gasped. “Wait! Noah, pull over!”
“What? No! Noah, keep going! Ginny? What the hell?”
“My cooler!” She pointed out the back window. “I left my cooler in the clubhouse! We have to go back for it.”
“Ginny. We barely got out of there without being noticed, by a series of pure coincidences that had to be arranged by God Himself. I am not going back in there, for any reason, at any time, ever again.”
She shoved her knee against his; since her leg was already on his lap, it hurt her more than it did him. “But Shepherd! There was enough C-4 hidden in the false bottom of that thing to blow the lid off the entire building.”
“They’recriminals, Virginia. They love C-4. They’ll be happy about finding it. Delighted, even. It’ll really cheer them up when they realize Hector’s missing.”
