“Fucking shit,” she muttered.
“Probably?” My phone buzzed.
“Be cautious,the cops are already on the way,” she added.
“Got it.” I checked my phone, which was untraceable. I wouldn’t risk bringing it on a job otherwise. Someone had texted.
Carlos
You okay? Where are you?
Me
Roganfort Center.
Carlos
Go to the parking garage, level two, at the exit markedPurple.Look for the pink sports car.
Why not?
Heading down the stairs, I exited on level two, running in what I hoped was the direction ofPurple. A bunch of cars raced past, one honking as it swerved to avoid me.
“I’m running here.” I flipped the car off. A hot pink sports car came right at me. The passenger door opened.
“Get in,” Carlos yelled.
I climbed in and onto his lap, because there was no backseat, and moved my backpack to my feet in a practiced motion.
It was a tight fit. Not only was it a small car, but while I was short, I wasn’t a slender omega. Also, I had a whole-ass sniper rifle in my backpack.
“Go, go, go,” Carlos yelled, shutting the door. “Head left, we don’t have to use a specific exit, so we’ll cut everyone off using the service tunnel.” He had a phone pointed at the guy in the cowboy hat who was driving.
I could see the comments from people on the phone’s screen. Oh. Whatever these two were doing was being livestreamed. I should probably watch what I say.
“The queen has entered the chat,” Carlos announced.
“Howdy. Welcome to the Hale-strom,” the driver said as we sped through the garage.
“Hi.” I waved.
Carlos’ arms wrapped around me as we whipped around a corner.
“I’ve got you. There! Turn there,” Carlos shouted as we passed a sign that saidService Tunnel.
The car made another sharp turn, Carlos squishing me against the door, as we entered a tunnel.
“The exit will pop you right out onto the street,” Carlos added. He kissed the top of my head. “Hi there.”
“Hey, Pumpkin. You sure know how to impress a girl.” I gazed up into his brown eyes. His dark, wavy hair was messy, and he was in dire need of a haircut. He wore a suit, but then hockey players dressed up for their games.
His face buried in my neck and he shot me a puzzled look.
“Temporary scent blockers, they’ll be wearing off soon,” I saidsoftly. We couldn’t have my scent on scene now, could we?
We shot out onto a dark street, cars whizzing by.
“Fuck yeah,” Cowboy driver said, glancing in his rearview, then at some blinking thing with numbers on the windshield. “We’re close to the end, right?”
