Page 73 of Cruel Games

As we stepped through, I released his hand. “Thanks for taking me this far, but I’ll do the rest on my own.”

“Why?”

“They only want to capture me for now. If they catch you helping me, there’s no telling how badly they’ll hurt you.”

Kendrick scowled. “I won’t let a gang of cheap thugs stop me from taking you somewhere safe.”

“Don’t do this.” I placed both hands on his biceps and stared into his gray eyes, silently pleading for him not to be so stupidly brave.

“I’d never forgive myself if I let you go off on your own.” He cupped my cheek. “Besides, you’ve grown on me these past few weeks. I want to make sure you return to the academy after the Christmas break so I can prove I’m nothing like my brother.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Ken—”

“No more arguments. If you leave without me, I’ll just follow and make a nuisance of myself.”

We continued down the hallway, passed the kitchen, and pulled down the lever of the fire exit. A blast of cold air blew into our faces, accompanied by the distant roar of traffic.

Lowering my head, I strode into a walled courtyard large enough to hold two large vans. It was empty and illuminated by a single spotlight. At the end stood a gate, which had been left open.

“Do you know where we are?” I whispered.

“The Glasgow Herald offices are through that gate and around the corner.” He placed an arm around my back. “We can grab a taxi from there, and you can stay low until we leave the city center.”

Swallowing hard, I said, “Alright.”

I walked a pace behind Kendrick toward the gate, hoping that he was right that Billy Hancock’s boys would only guard the main exits. My heart drummed a rapid beat that resounded through my ribcage.

What a bloody mess. Two sets of criminals gunning for me because of the actions of a jealous and mentally unstable cow.

Even if I lived to be a hundred, I would never understand why Elizabeth was so possessive of boys she didn’t even want to kiss.

About six paces before we reached the exit, smoke curled out from the gateway.

A palpitation seized my heart. I halted to a stop and squeezed Kendrick’s hand. “Someone’s out there.”

“An employee having a break?” he whispered.

Inhaling the sweet scent of weed, I grimaced. “Probably one of Sammy’s boys.”

“Sammy?”

I shook my head. It was one thing for Kendrick to know I’d been brought up by a cocaine dealer. That hadn’t been my fault. I was just a child, and it was tragic. But he would lose all respect for me if he discovered I’d chosen to shack up with another dealer.

He moved me behind his larger body. “Hide behind me.”

As we crept forward, I caught sight of the front wheel of a motorcycle. My stomach flipped like a pancake. This had to be Crawford, the guy I’d pepper-sprayed at Sammy’s place. He was the only friend of Sammy’s who rode a bike.

A God Save The Queen ringtone pierced the air.

“Alright, Sam,” said a familiar cockney voice from beyond the gateway. “What, she’s heading my way?”

I clenched my teeth. Was Elizabeth sneaking about in the hallways, too?

Kendrick lurched forward and slammed his fist into the side of Crawford’s head. The huge guy dropped his bike like a felled oak, and his helmet rolled across the gateway.

“Get on.” Kendrick mounted the bike and held out his hand.

I ran forward and scooped up the helmet. “Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?”