Page 130 of Chaos Kills

I’m not going to be in this godforsaken shithole anymore.

The glass breaks after I throw the first ball but only the size of the object as I chuck another one.

And another one.

Until I can begin pushing glass out and we can begin to climb through.

“Don’t get antsy,” I hear Torin warn. “We’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“You’re dead!” Matteo barks out. “And I’m going to kill you in front of my girl while she watches you bleed the fuck out.”

You’ve only got minutes, maybe seconds.

“Reeve, climb through,” I command when enough glass has been removed. “Watch your feet.”

He comes up to my side. “I’ve been through windows before, McQueen, while trying to sneak out—” I shove him forward because I don’t have time, nor do I want to hear of how many bedrooms he’s escaped from.

Playtime is over and we’re about to get fucked up if Matteo’s men discover—the wave of loud music comes through mid-thought, and I know the door to the room just opened, which could only mean one thing.

I was right.

“Go!” I push Torin by his shoulder, his back to the window as he eyeballs Matteo and the room and goes with the movement.

“Come on, Wildfire?—”

“Shoot that motherfucker!” I hear Matteo roar at the same time Torin raises his gun and pops off two shots.

I start for the window, but not before looping my arm with Torin’s. The warmth of his skin sends warning chills up my spine, and I’m surprised my brain registers it with all the chaos surrounding me.

My shirt is suddenly fisted, as well as the back of Torin’s, as we’re Superman-yanked over the windowsill. But not before I feel a slight pinch at my bicep before all three of us are toppling to the cement gravel below.

I’m immediately heaved up to my feet in seconds before coming face-to-face with Cairo.

Through the darkness, I can barely make out his outline, but it’s him. The smell of patchouli wafts around me before he cups my face and drops it as quickly as he does it.

“You did good, Little T.” Then he gives me a small yank, and we’re sprinting along the back of the bar. My breathing is shot as we round the building toward the parking lot where I frantically try to remember where the hell I put my car.

“Drive with Reeve,” Cairo orders. “I’ll follow.”

My lips part to convey that I don’t need an escort, when Reeve grabs my forearm and somehow finds my Nova.

“Keys,” he orders as we sprint-walk toward it.

I scoff. “You’re not driving my shit.”

Especially high, the fuck?

I’d send Reeve packing with Torin, but with my luck, he’d roam around the parking lot and eventually get found.

So, I’m stuck with him.

Rounding the back of my car, I just get the door open when “Ain’t Gonna Lie” by NLE Chopper and Lil Wayne blares through the night air, alluding that the door to the bar is open, and people are leaving.

Or searching.

Keys shoved in the ignition, the benefit of driving an old car is that the headlights don’t automatically turn on, but my dual exhaust is a dead giveaway of where we’re at.

Stretching my arm along the back of the bench seat, I glimpse over my shoulder to quickly back out when I hear a male shout something angrily.

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