Page 148 of Convict's Game

Kane shrugged and pulled on a skeleton crew bandanna, handing me another. “Unless ye learned to fly while in police custody?”

Despite myself, I laughed. “Let’s do it.”

The scramble over the windowsill was oddly reminiscent of how I’d met Mila. Except that was a thousand times more romantic than having her brother’s arse loom above me.

Taking care to keep my recently healed leg raised, I lowered to my fingertips then dropped to the concrete below. I hit the ground and rolled, bouncing back up with a quick sense check telling me I’d stuck the landing.

Kane thudded heavily in a crouch beside me, his fingertips touching the ground. He shoved me and flashed a grin. I shoved him back and crept to the wall and the thick metal gate that led on to the road.

A digi-lock secured the gate. I could scramble over it, but the height of the wall had obscured anything directly behind it from our window view.

Apparently, Kane had eyes on the street, as he listened to an earpiece I hadn’t noticed, then paused me. “There’s a cop sitting in her car outside, apparently on a phone call. We’re going to have to run for it. The crew will pick us up on the move. Keep up, lover boy.”

With two strides back for a run-up, Kane vaulted the wall. He was gone in a flash. I sucked in a breath and didn’t waste a second more, following him over.

He was already halfway across the road when I landed and ran.

A car door cracked open. “Hey!” a woman yelled.

The static of radio chatter chased us. I didn’t give a damn. I was free. I bolted down the streets of Leith as I probably had hundreds of times before, keeping Kane in my sights.

He ducked down an alley, pausing to be sure I saw him hop another wall, then we jumped fences in back gardens. We were taking a cut through in case we were pursued.

The further we ran, the closer we got to the crashing of waves, and I burst out the end of a lane directly into a crowd at the harbour.

Excitement was high, and all eyes were on some kind of operation in the docks. Kane grasped my arm and towed me, but I caught sight of what had drawn everyone’s attention. Across the water, a crane lifted the prow of a red-and-white boat.

TheEdenwas being resurrected.

Why that gave me a more sickened feeling than my imprisonment was anyone’s business.

We threaded through the throng and out onto Ocean Drive.

Next to where the Glass House used to sit, a vehicle waited, partially blocking the road. Arran’s car. I nearly cried. Kanealmost threw me inside, slammed the door, and smacked his hand down on the frame with a shout for us to go.

Across the back seat, Mila reached for me, and I fell on her, Arran and Tyler giving relieved greetings while we sped the fuck out of town.

At last, I could breathe again.

Or pass the fuck out. That worked, too.

Chapter 52

Mila

In a race, we sped down the coastal road, back to Deadwater. Arran might have used subterfuge to get Convict back, but he was giving a clear message to whoever watched us returning home. The four big, black vehicles drove in a tight formation, fast and direct.

No one got in our way.

I cradled Convict’s head on my lap. His breathing was steady and his temperature okay, but a red mark stained his temple. God only knew from what. Arran had been on the phone to a medic who’d told us to take him straight to hospital.

It terrified me what they might say.

I stroked his hair and tried to control my spiralling panic.

We rolled into Deadwater’s Scottish suburbs and crossed the bridge to the English side, arriving at the hospital’s Accident and Emergency drop-off.

Tyler opened the back door, but it was Arran who collected Convict from the seat and carried him to a waiting gurney.