Adrenaline’s got me wired. I swear I’ve never felt more alive—like every cell in my body is vibrating with purpose.
Then reality knocks.
He’s heavy. Built like a boulder with tattoos.
Getting him upstairs isn’t going to be elegant.
Thank God for the lift.
And for Nana’s old wheelchair, which has been sulking in my car boot under an old blanket and layers of dust.
Who knew it’d make its debut hauling a potential criminal?
I work fast. Because the lump on his head is swelling, and if I don’t move quickly, he’ll come round. And when he does… I need him somewhere I’ve got the upper hand.
I hope I haven’t done too much damage.
No, actually screw that. He was about toshootmy best friend! He was trying to take her. He deserves everything I gave him.
My phone buzzes and I scramble for it, but it’s not Darcy’s name I’m graced with, it’s Adam’s.
You really think you can ignore me?
Bitch I own you.
I don’t know who you think you are, but when I ask you a question, I expect you to answer. If you don’t want me to fuck up your entire life, I suggest you give me what I want.
He’s angry.
Probably drunk again. But I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
I pocket my phone and dart across the street to my car, parked innocently among the others like it isn’t about to become a piece of evidence.
The wheelchair’s buried under a heap of blankets and regret in the boot. I haul it out, metal clinking, wheels squeaking just enough to make me flinch.
Casual. Normal. Totally not abducting a guy.
He’ll pass for drunk if I’m lucky. Slumped low, limbs limp—he’ll just look like someone who couldn’t handle his night out. No one blinks at a blackout.
That’s the hope.
I pat down his jacket for his phone.
Found.
Off.
One less way for backup to track him.
Because if he’s working with someone—and let’s face it, he is—I do not want them GPS-ing their way to me.
Getting him into the chair?
That’s the nightmare.
Dead weight is a bitch.
His arm alone nearly yanks me sideways into the pavement, and I mutter curses under my breath as I wrangle him upright.
