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“We need to find a phone.”
“There’s a convenience store on the corner across the street. I could go and make a call.”
“You remember that number I made you memorize?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. But be careful.”
“I don’t want to leave you here.”
“I’ll be fine. You have to hurry, Jess. They realize we’re gone, they’re gonna double back.”
She nodded. “Stay hidden.”
“You got it, cupcake.” He grinned at her.
She lifted up on her toes, her hands on his chest and lifted her head for a kiss. He dipped his head and met her halfway. And then he was pulling back.
“Go.”
She dashed across the street.
A bell tinkled above the door as she entered the tiny store. There was metal gating across the front window cluttered with beer and cigarette ads. A counter stood to the left with a cash register. Jessie glanced around. There was no one in the store.
“I need to use a phone. It’s an emergency.”
The man behind the counter eyed her with little sympathy.
“Please,” she begged.
He huffed out a breath, but reached for a wireless phone and handed it to her. She frantically punched in the number Ghost had taught her.
“Clubhouse,” a deep voice muttered through the receiver.
“Ghost is hurt. We need help.”
“Who the fuck is this?” came the reply.
“It’s Jessie.”
“Where is he?”
Jessie pulled the phone away from her mouth and asked the clerk. “Where am I?”
“Gip’s. Fifty-Third Street. Fairfield.”
She repeated the information into the phone.
“Okay. Hang tight, girly.” With that nickname, she realized this must be Griz.
“Hurry, Griz, please.”
The phone went dead. She shoved it back at the man with a mumbled thank you and dashed out the door. Terrified the entire run back across the street that Ghost would be gone, that they would have doubled back and found him. She reached the gangway, and he stepped out of the shadows.
She flung her arms around him, “Thank God.”
“You find a phone?” he asked, his head dipping next to hers as she held him. “You okay?”
