“That tweaker bitch was a Disciple.”
“Is she okay?” I ask.
“No,” Maverick says, scowling. “She’s dead. That’s not the problem.”
Suddenly, I think I’m going to be sick.
I expected her to get beaten, but killed? I don’t even like breaking bones, try my best not to send anyone to the hospital. I like the show, and yes, the violence, but I don’t enjoy causingpain. And the way Maverick said it chills me to the bone, like it’s no big deal, no more important than saying someone has allergies or a cold.
I should have called off the fight when I saw she was high.
I should never have come here.
Why did Dynamo pawn me off on these guys, anyway?
“It’s my fault,” I choke out.
“It’s her fault,” Lennox says flatly. “She tried to kill you.”
“What’s the problem?” Hemingway calls to her brothers, not looking up from her work. “And can you hold it off for a few more minutes?”
“The problem is the Disciples are pissed, and they’re about to pull up,” Maverick says, pocketing his phone and pulling a gun from the small of his back like it’s a device of no more consequence.
My heart skips when I see Mad Dog pull out his as well.
“All done,” Hemingway calls, snipping off her thread.
Lennox stands, backing off the stool and drawing a black pistol as the first pair of headlights slices across the front windows. “Get Merciless out.”
“Go with her, Hemi,” Mad Dog calls from the front, where more cars have turned into the lot. “Don’t come back.”
“On it,” she calls, grabbing a shirt from the rack and handful of stuff from a drawer before ducking down as she scampers for a back door.
“Go,” Lennox says over his shoulder to me, and I roll off the table and sway dizzily. I may be lucid, but the drug definitely took more than the edge of pain off. My head feels all cloudy, and I forget what I’m doing for a second, until I see Hemingway crouched at the back door, gesturing frantically for me to join her. I bend low and hurry over, trying to keep my balance.
“Dynamo is outside,” she says. “We’re almost there. Just run to the truck and get in as quick as you can. I’ll bandage you up on the way. Okay? We got this.”
I nod, and she shoves open the door, letting me out into the icy night air. It burns my cheeks, bringing a bit of clarity back, and I run for the truck idling outside. I guess I’m all in on trusting them, because I don’t bother to check who it is before I throw open the door and scramble up into the seat. The flash of blond hair and a sleeve of tattoos reassures me, nonetheless. I’m reaching for the door when Dynamo swears and clamps his hand on my leg, slamming on the gas at the same time. The truck shoots forward, I’m thrown back in the seat, and the door slams shut.
“Wait,” I cry. “We left Hemi!”
“She’s in the back,” Dynamo says, hopping the curb to make a sharp turn. He stomps the accelerator, and the truck roars down an empty side street.
“You sure?” I ask, twisting around. I can’t see anything out the back except headlights.
“Hold on tight, darlin’,” Dynamo says, and then we’re taking a corner on two wheels.
I grab for the seatbelt, snapping it around me. “Where are we going?”
“Getting you back to campus,” Dynamo says. “From what I’ve gathered, you have some friends there who can protect you. Might want to shoot them a text real quick so they can meet you at the drop off.”
I can just imagine the guys’ reaction if I called them right now. It’s irrelevant anyway, since I leave my phone when I go on these outings.
“I’m good,” I mutter.
As if to prove me wrong, something slams into us from the back. Despite the pain meds, I can feel a stab in my side, and I cry out, bracing my hand on the dash.
“Mother fucker,” Dynamo swears, bearing down harder on the gas. He turns the wheel, and we shoot out onto a main road. It stretches before us, long and straight and dotted with stoplights, though it’s abandoned this time of night.
