Page 195 of Damián

“Careful,” Zara warns. “Don’t anger the shitty-luck angels.”

DING.

The doors slide open, revealing the ground floor.

Thank God!

I sprint out into the lobby, but freeze when I see a silver-haired woman blocking my path. She stands there armed with a pack of baby wipes and a 9mm gun.

I blink, super confused, unsure whether to run or drop the cookies.

“Hi, Oliver. I’m Mrs. Evelyn, the receptionist,” she says, offering me the baby wipes. “Take these. You look like you just fought a horde of Sugar Plum Fairies.”

I take the wipes and stare at her completely bewildered. “How did you—”

“I see everything.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Evelyn.”

“Thank you for making Damián this happy.” She holds out the gun. My jaw drops. It’s the exact 9mm Damián just took from me in the command center.

Seeing my shocked expression, she smiles.

“As I said, I see everything. Now go help our boy.”

I take the gun, tucking it away, and bolt through the automatic glass doors, where I find Zara waiting in her pink Porsche.

She throws the passenger door open and yells, “Run, Shawshank!”

I jump inside, slamming the passenger door shut as I throw the red cookie box onto her lap. “Payment.”

“Most appreciated,” Zara says with a grin.

She grabs the box, tosses it over her shoulder onto her purse in the back seat, and stomps on the gas.

— ¤ —

“Wow, Ollie,” Kaleo says, his eyes widening as we pull up to the docks. “Did you fuck the Gingerbread Man?”

Zara bursts out laughing, leaning against the side of the car.

I glare at him, stepping out of the Porsche. “Ha. Ha. So incredibly funny.”

“You should’ve seen him before,” Zara gasps, wiping a tear from her eye. “This is him after cleaning up.”

Kaleo chuckles, gesturing toward the water. “Well, I’m so glad you cleaned up for my boat. Get in. We’ll reach the Hamptons in thirty-five minutes.”

We get into the boat, and Kaleo takes off, going as fast as the limit will allow without getting us arrested.

The wind whips past my face, but I barely feel it. All I can do is clutch the 9mm gun tightly in my pocket and pray. Pray that Damián and the rest follow every single warning I gave them. Pray that they are all going to be okay.

Pray that they stay alive.

“What’s the plan, Ollie?” Zara asks, already munching on her fifth ginger cookie.

“You drop me at the east beach and leave,” I tell her flatly.

Kaleo scoffs from the steering wheel. “There is no way we are just dumping you there.”