Page 123 of Things We Hide from the Light

“You weren’t supposed to be part of the chase. You were supposed to wait in the car. And you,” I said, tightening my grip on the squirmy hacker, “were supposed to make your court date.”

“If I go to court, they’re going to send me to jail,” he whined.

“Uh, yeah. That’s what’s supposed to happen when you commit a felony.”

He groaned. “My mom is gonna kill me.”

“That was so badass the way you flying tackled him,” Sloane said, entering the conversation. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

“No,” I said tersely and shoved Melvin into the back seat by his head. “Stay.” I shut the door and turned back to my friends, who did not look nearly contrite enough. “This is a dangerous job. You’re not trained to handle these kinds of situations. So when I tell you to stay in the car, youstay in the car.”

“Friends don’t let friends be in danger alone,” Naomi said sternly. “When Waylay and I were abducted, you and Sloane showed up for us. Sloane and I just showed up for you.”

“The difference is, I wasn’t abducted, Naomi. I was doing my job. Well, I was doing Lewis’s job. But I’ve been trained for this. I have experience in these situations. Neither of you do.”

Sloane pouted. “Don’t you even want to know how we distracted him?”

“I threw a bag of dog poop I found on the sidewalk at him.” Naomi preened.

That explained the smell. I was definitely going to need to have my car detailed.

“And I yelled and flashed him my boobs,” Sloane announced proudly.

If it had been any two other civilians, I would have been impressed. But all I could think of was the fact that Naomi and Sloane willingly put themselves in danger for me. And that I now had to make a phone call I really didn’t want to make.

I sighed. “I have to make a call. Stay here and keep an eye on Melvin. Do not get in the car. Do not wander away. Do not befriend any homicidal maniacs roaming the streets.”

“She’s just mad because she didn’t get any pie,” Sloane whispered to Naomi as I dialed.

Knox picked up on the first ring.

“What’s wrong? Why isn’t Stef sending updates anymore, and why isn’t my fiancée answering my texts?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Stef had to leave early, and as for Naomi”—I glanced over my shoulder to where Naomi and Sloane were posing for selfies—“she’s not answering your texts because she and Sloane are busy trying out all the Snapchat filters.”

“Why are you calling? Aren’t we pissed at each other?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t keep up.”

“Good. Then if we were fighting, let’s call it over.”

This is why I liked being friends with men. It was just easier.

“Agreed. I need a favor. Two actually. I need you to not get justifiably pissed off, and I need a ride for two intoxicated women who refuse to listen to me.”

“What’s wrong with your car?”

“It’s currently occupied by a criminal mastermind in zip ties.”

“Fuck.”

“If you let me go,I’ll hack into the IRS so you never have to pay taxes again,” Melvin offered from the back seat.

“Don’t talk,” I growled.

With the windows down, wind buffeted us from all sides at highway speeds. It helped with the smell of dog shit.

“That beardy tattoo guy looked like he was going to rip my arms off and beat me to death with them. I thought he was going to break the glass just to get to me.”