Page 27 of Sweet Deception

He’s around the front and in the driver’s seat in seconds, turning the engine over in one fluid motion. We rumble out of the parallel parking space, hauling ass down crowded streets, veering around oncoming attackers and scattering pedestrians, bullets spraying at us as people shriek and race for cover.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, this is like some sick, twisted video game.

Except it’s my life.

There’s barely anything to hold on to inside this futuristic race car, which is outfitted in sleek, expensive black leather. The potent aroma intoxicates me.

Piro climbs out of my shirt and tumbles onto my lap, where I hold him steady with one hand while I rip a seat belt across my chest with the other.

Darren dodges cars and people by any means necessary, even swerving the entire car onto the sidewalk at one point. I need to close my eyes to keep the nausea and panic down.

Watching where we’re going is terrifying. I’d rather be blind.

Bozhe moy, he’s going to kill us.

When the crazy jerking and weaving die down, I open my eyes. Thankfully, we’re on the right side of the road, and there isn’t too much traffic even though we’re still going way too fast.

Meanwhile, Darren’s not even wearing his seat belt. His aura is serial-killer calm as he speeds away from my neighborhood and out of Brooklyn.

Once we’ve sped far enough out that there are no hints of purple fog in the air, no chaos on the streets outside, and no armed men shooting at us, he swings the car into a nearby alley without so much as slowing down and screeches to a halt, stopping this machine on a damn dime.

If I hadn’t buckled myself in, I would’ve flown straight through the windshield. I’m sure of it. During the several seconds my heart requires to recover from the jarring stop, Darren turns and points a gun at me.

“Now…” He cocks the hammer. “Who the hell are you?”

Chapter Eleven

The moment stills between us, with Darren aiming a gun between my eyes and me staring down the barrel. A little round hole and the pitch black beyond it crowd my entire view.

If he pulls the trigger, this will be the last thing I ever see.

Then, Piro rubs his face against the inside of my hand, distracting us both, and the tension breaks. I gaze down at my little feline friend and cuddle him deeper into my lap.

Despite my adrenaline still working its way down from sky-high levels, I retain my practiced composure.

“Answer me,” Darren growls, lethality contorting his deep, smooth voice.

Rather than reply, I stay silent, measuring my options while rubbing my thumb up and down Piro’s back.

I can barely fill my lungs. The hand pressing Piro against my stomach trembles, so I hold him even tighter.

As hard as this is, I can’t lose focus. I can’t lose sight of what I know.

Darren clearly wants information from me more than he wants me dead. If he just needed me to die, he could’ve let those men back at my apartment do what they’d come to do. Hecould’ve used me as a human shield, climbed into his car, and driven off. But instead, he protected me.

He brought me this far so he could threaten me in exchange for my knowledge. I must have information that’s important to him, even if I’m clueless as to what it is.

“What the fuck were you doing with my phone back in Vegas?”

Oh, right. Yes. I did clone his phone. Forgot about that.

Honestly, cloning his phone was not the worst thing that happened that night. And in light of recent events, it’s an easy detail to overlook.

I take a deep breath and stare out the windshield. “I like phones.”

Darren’s eyes bore into my cheek. I’m not looking at him, but I can sense he’s astonished by my calm, flippant reply. He’s not the first to be surprised by this skill. Keeping it together is an artform I’ve perfected over many years of dedicated study.

But then Darren laughs in purely sinister, unhinged amusement.