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My ass vibrates. I smirk around the new cigarette between my teeth, waiting until I’ve taken a few hits before slipping the phone free. Swiping the screen, I immediately hit the speaker button and hold it close to my lips.

“Cleanup on level 3.”

“Funny.”

I huff and take another deep inhale, allowing the repetitive motions to calm my nerves.

“That was closer than I expected. What took you so long?”

“Took me so long?” Smith’s voice drips with indignation. “We’re four buildings over, the wind is gusting outside, and I had a four-foot break between levels to shoot through. All in all, I consider what I did fucking quick.”

I snort and take another drag. “Fine, color me impressed. Where’s Tank?”

“On his way to you.”

“Thanks for making the shot.”

“Told you I could.”

Shaking my head, I end the call. Even with the man who was out for my blood dead at my feet, anxiety rushes through my veins. One down, how many more to go?

Lost in thought, I roll the filter along my lower lip.

One question keeps going through my mind.

Now what?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Randi

August

The grainy sand seeps between my toes as I race down the beach like I’m being chased.

Because I am.

Adrenaline races through my veins and blood thunders in my ears as I push harder, urging my legs to move faster. Sand flies behind me in my wake, hopefully giving my pursuer a mouthful of it and hindering their ability to get close enough to snatch me.

My skin tingles with the awareness that someone is close. Too close. The muscles of my thighs protest, my legs feeling like noodles, but the flickering light of my destination urges me past the pain. Huffing, I pump my arms harder and fight the need to sneak a glance over my shoulder.

Dark shadows move along the beach. Massive shadows. I smile despite the air wheezing from my chest.

Twenty feet.

Almost there. I can make it.

Fifteen feet.

The pounding of another set of feet slapping the sand seems much closer than before.

Ten feet.

An arm snakes around my waist, hauling me backward. I scream in frustration as my back collides with the still warm sand and a massive body straddles my hips.

Wet dark hair glistens in the moonlight. The house security lights cast a shadow over the body, making it impossible to see the expression on the man’s face.

“You’re going to pay for that, Mess.”