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Relief floods me and I run straight to him. “Oh, Finn, thank God,” I exclaim. My hands reach out and he clasps my arms to steady me.
“What’s wrong?” There’s no teasing tone right now and he must see the fear on my pale face. But before I can explain the situation, the front door bangs open and my pursuers enter the bar.
“They have a gun,” I whisper, warning him. “They want to hurt me.”
His green-gray eyes narrow and his face darkens like a thundercloud. I’ve never seen him look so fierce as he growls, “Over my dead body.”
Chapter Three: Finn
I’ve just plucked the lime from my drink and squeezed the rest of its tart juice into my ginger ale when the front door bursts open and a very familiar blonde runs in like the devil himself is on her ass.
Turns out, I’m not far off. And thank Christ I’m here.
Normally, I just fly the protectors of Slater Security around and stay in pilot mode, but when I see the two thugs chasing after Ivy, my protector mode goes from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye. I’ve seen my share of combat, and right now, the fear in Ivy’s gorgeous eyes has me acting fast. My only focus is getting her out of here and away from whoever these assholes are who want to hurt her.
“C’mon,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her along the bar and around the corner at a clipped pace. She’s clutching her camera in a death grip and has a small tote bag looped over her forearm. The men instantly spot us and when they start running, so do we. We turn the corner of the bar at the exact same moment a customer pushes off his stool and stands up.
It’s an unavoidable collision, but we don’t have a moment to waste.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” the irate customer yells.
“Sorry,” I murmur and shove past, yanking Ivy with me.
“Finn!” Ivy gasps as I drag her down the short hallway and straight toward the back door.
The fear in her voice makes me glance over.
“I dropped my bag!”
“Sorry, but we’re not going back for it.” I have no clue what’s going on yet, but I’m not hanging around to find out. Especially since Ivy warned me they’re armed. Escape now. WTF later.
We burst through the door and into the back alley. The sun is setting fast and I pull Ivy deeper into the shadows and hustle her straight into the building next door. We don’t have a lot of options at this point because those thugs are right on our tail. I’m hoping to lose them in the building and sneak around and back out.
That’s option #1, anyway. I also have an option #2 floating around in my head, but I don’t think Ivy is going to like it very much.
Me, on the other hand? I think it could be fun.
We find ourselves running through a dilapidated office building that’s definitely seen better days. Our long legs pump as we race by several doors with placards for a bail bondsman, a nonprofit organization and a personal injury attorney. I let go of her soft hand and try a door handle, but it’s locked.
“Go, that way!” I push Ivy toward the stairwell and keep trying doors. Nothing opens and I shove the stairwell door open just as the thugs appear behind us. As the door slips shut, I glance over my shoulder and spot the guns now in their hands.
Dammit.What the hell kind of trouble is Ivy in?
With option #1 a no-go, plan #2 is set in motion. We haul ass up the steps, taking them two at a time. I have a million questions buzzing around in my head, but my first priority remains getting us out of here without being shot.Good times.
Luckily, I’m a good time kinda guy. I don’t get easily rattled and I’ve been told my easy-going nature is one step away from not giving a rat’s ass. A former Night Stalker friend of mine gave me a mug that says “Zero fucks given.” I’d say that’s fairly accurate, unless I’m flying or restoring a classic.
Or helping this beauty.
“Where are we going?” Ivy asks, keeping pace beside me.
“To the roof.”
“The roof? Are you crazy? Then what the hell are we gonna do?” she demands.
“Trust me, sweetness. I have a plan.” Well, sort of. Whether it will actually work or not is debatable, but we’re about to find out.
“Trust you?” she echoes. “Ha!”
