“We have five minutes to get them out of here,” Jamie announced and thumbed at the drugged boys.
“Five minutes, Killian, tick-tock.”
I stared at him in disbelief, my mind racing to catch up with the sudden shift in reality. This wasn’tthe reluctant mechanic I’d been dealing with. This was someone else entirely—someone who cut throats with practiced efficiency and didn’t flinch at the blood spattering his boots.
“You… what the fuck did you just do?” I hissed, heading toward the nearest boy, checking his pulse. Slow but steady.
Jamie was already pulling one of them up, supporting his weight. “I did what needed doing. You were taking too long playing spy, and these kids would have been out on the next truck.”
“I was getting information!” I grabbed the smallest of the three, throwing his arm around my shoulder. “Information we need about who else is involved, where the other victims are?—”
“The back exit has a delivery truck waiting. Keys are in the ignition.”
“How—” I started, but there was no time for questions. The third boy was starting to stir, mumbling incoherently. I nodded to Jamie. “What about cameras?”
“Disabled. Four minutes now,” Jamie cut me off, cold and methodical.
“Then what happens?”
Jamie grinned, all teeth. “Boom.”
Fuck! Fuck! “You get them out. I need two more minutes.”
“Killian—”
“Two minutes, Pretty,” I repeated, already moving to the desk. “Get them to safety. I’ll be right behind you.”
Jamie’s eyes hardened, but he nodded once, sharp and decisive. As he herded the barely conscious boys toward the exit, I rifled through Ricardo’s desk drawers, grabbing his laptop and shoving any paperwork into my pocket.
I pocketed three USB drives that had been discarded in the bottom drawer, then turned to leave. Was that more than two minutes? Was I going to get caught in an explosion or a raging inferno? What the fuck had Jamie done? What about all the people outside, innocents, was he going to destroy this place without?—
The fire alarms activated, so fucking loud, and I sprinted for the back door and tumbled out into cold air. Jamie was leaning against the van and checking his watch. “Nice timing. Get them somewhere.” He gestured at the truck, then strolled past me, back into the club.
“Jamie! What the fuck are you doing?”
He pulled out a container and flicked a lighter. “What I’m good at.”
“Fuck—”
“I’ll see you back at your place.”
“My place? What?—”
“Get the fuck out of here, hide your face. Cameras everywhere that no one can fix in a few seconds.”
And then he vanished. People began exiting through the back doors, a buzz of excitement mixed with concern. I scrambled to the van, leaving as sedately as I could, with the visor down and my jacket up over the bottom half of my face. I was thankful the victims in the back were at least hidden in the paneled van. I abandoned the vehicle a quarter mile from our destination, opening the back doors to reveal three frightened young men who looked a little more alert than before.
“Reed Way Hostel,” I pointed in the direction. “Pride flag in the window, ask for Mickey. Got it? Mickey.”
“Mickey, Reed Way.” The most lucid of them repeated.
“Get help, say nothing; keep your fucking heads down.”
They scrambled out of the van, throwing me frightened looks, stumbling and crying as they headedtoward a place I knew they’d be safe. I sent a quick message to Mickey to keep an eye out, wiped down the van’s steering wheel just in case, then sprinted back toward the city, calling a cab as soon as I hit the city limits. Then, not knowing how to deal with the clusterfuck Jamie had created, I headed home.
NINE
Jamie
