Page 75 of Cruel Games

He swerved the bike and drove straight through the Christmas market, revving the engine loud enough for the shoppers to duck out of the way. A couple of police officers ran toward us, waving their hands, but they were the least of our problems.

By the time we passed through the stalls, Sammy had stopped his BMW.

I blew out a long, relieved breath as we headed down Hanover Street, and around the back of Browns Restaurant, where Kendrick dumped the motorcycle.

“Come with me.” He swung his leg off and held out his hand.

I jumped down, threw off the helmet, and we ran hand-in-hand down Ingram Street. At the first bar, he pulled me into the entrance.

Bracing my hands on my knees and trying not to vomit, I asked, “What now?”

“Now, we get an Uber.”

Chapter 26

Kendrick rubbed my back, easing away some of my panic with his warm touch. “Why on earth do they want you so badly?”

I swallowed hard. “It looks like they worked out I was responsible for their arrests.”

“They?”

“Billy Hancock wasn’t the only gangster in my life.” I kept my gaze on the ground, my insides cringing at how he would react when I told him about Sammy. “It was me who told the police where they could find him visiting his shipment of cocaine.”

“How did they find out?”

“Because I did something similar to my last boyfriend.”

“Another cocaine dealer?” he asked.

“Cannabis,” I replied. “We grew it in our basement.”

Kendrick’s hand stilled. “They must have put two and two together and realized you were the informant.”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, and the silence stretched my nerves close to the point of snapping. I straightened and looked him full in the face.

Kendrick frowned at me as though I was a puzzle he was on the verge of working out. I wanted to ask him what was on his mind, but I didn’t have the right. It wasn’t like we were dating or anything.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he said.

“Quite a bit.” I stared out into the street, watching a black cab go by. Its amber light was off, and I blew out a frustrated breath.

If my life was a tragedy, my fatal flaw would be snitching my enemies, only for them to bounce back and smack me on the ass. I couldn’t blame Kendrick if he thought I was a back-stabbing bitch.

A blue Toyota Prius pulled in outside the bar.

“This is our car.” He walked to the curb and opened the door. After a brief word with the driver, he turned to me. “You’ll be safe now.”

I looked up and down the street for signs of Sammy’s BMW, but there were none. Hopefully, the police had arrested him for mounting George Square. When I settled next to Kendrick in the back and fastened my seatbelt, he turned to me, his eyes bright.

“What?” I asked as the Uber pulled away.

“Can I kiss you?”

Relief and desire flooded my soul, and I whispered, “Yes.”

Kendrick pushed strands of platinum hair off my face before pecking me on the lips. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”