Chapter 2 #2
He pulls out slowly, like we’re on some kind of Sunday drive, but the moment a bullet smashes through the back windshield and through the front one, he takes off, full speed, swerving up into a one-way street the wrong way.
I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to know what’s coming next. Bullets spray the car from behind and then I take a peek, right as a car careens into a truck heading our way.
And we’re next. Oh, shit, we’re—
Declan spins the wheel sharply, scrapes his side of the car along another truck, this one parked. A plume of sparks flies out behind us as we narrowly miss pancaking into the other truck.
He turns the wheel sharply again, a hard left, driving along another street of empty warehouses, with two cars spewing bullets behind us.
We’re going to die. I press my lips together hard to stop screaming.
Something crashes loudly in the near distance and there’s a roaring coming up next to me.
“Keep the fuck down, lass,” Declan snarls, shoving my head way down. There’s a loud boom and a crash and window glass rains down around me and I don’t even know if it’s in that order; my head’s still wobbling from the inside out.
There’s a shot that slams into the car and this time I scream.
Declan puts both hands on the wheel, gun still gripped in one as he turns the wheel and we roar off, the car thumping and veering as we do.
“What—?”
“The gobshite shot the tire, Molly. Hang the fuck on.”
He drives with the ferocity of a wild man with a death wish, and it’s both impressive and terrifying. Not even the shot-out tire stops him.
God. We’re approaching what looks like a dead end in the shape of a row of warehouses and a car wreck.
Our car screeches to a stop, driver’s side facing out as other cars pull up around us.
I brace against the door, keeping low like he said. My heart’s pounding so hard I can barely breathe, but through the shattered back window I glimpse our pursuers. Multiple cars. Too many shooters. I tug my sweatpants back up while cowering in my seat.
“How many?” Declan barks.
“Three cars,” I manage to get out.
Declan shoots as men pour out, rushing at us. He takes out four of the guys.
“Fuck.” He looks at his gun, pulls out the one I found and starts shooting with that. “Get out and stay low, okay? And when I say run, run.”
I do as he tells me. It takes three tries to stop my fingers shaking enough to unclip the belt, two tries to remember he locked the door, and all around me, I’m in the middle of some wild west shoot out.
As I slide down to the ground, Declan joins me, grabbing my arm and pushing me behind him. “The roller door’s close by, so stay low and roll under it.” He shoves me farther down and shoots past me.
I don’t know what’s happening. I struggle to sit up enough to see, but not enough to get shot.
A bullet whizzes past my head and Declan pulls the trigger. Then he turns, taking in the scene.
I can’t tell if we’re getting shot at or are caught in the crossfire, and I hate myself for clinging so close to Declan.
He fires, taking down others. And then I see Leon rush forward, not caring about the bullets. But his hands are empty, no defensive posture, his eyes on me.
Declan sees him too. He raises his gun to shoot, but I grab him. “No! Don’t shoot—that’s my boyfriend!”
For a moment I think he’s going to pull the trigger, anyway. Time slows. He doesn’t, and then, my brain short circuits. I try to shove past Declan. I have to get to Leon.
Declan’s heavy weight slams into me and I eat pavement once again.
Shit, I need to make sure Leon’s okay, As of right now, he’s my only chance to save my dad.
And then I stop thinking as Declan hits the ground next to me and shoves me. “Go! Or I’ll fucking put a bullet in you myself.”
His words make me shudder. I roll under the door into the darkness that smells like cement and oil and… fruit?
Pineapple, citrus, apples.
Declan rolls in right after me and grabs me as he jumps up, throws me over his shoulder, and takes off in the dark, seemingly knowing the place.
I grab fistfuls of his hoodie, hanging on for dear life, even though I don’t want to be here.
The sounds of gunshots ping off metal, and the shouts and cries are mixed with distant sirens. Declan keeps running. He pushes through another door and down a street. Somehow, I can read the sign on the shrinking door: Jack’s Fruit Imports.
He doesn’t stop running, but I’m hit with the coolish air of the night, the relative silence—apart from distant squealing tires, and the growing sirens.
No more gunshots.
I slap a fist against his back. “Put me down.”
“Shut up, Molly, you’re on my last nerve—but I’d rather you be bouncing on my cock. Preferably gagged.” Something beeps and he stops, then throws me into a cool space that smells like leather.
His car.
Declan takes off in the car at a smooth, leisurely pace toward Manhattan via Astoria. Industrial melts into suburbia and bars. He doesn’t say another word to me as I gulp in deep breaths, and he turns onto a bridge.
My heart slams against my chest as we get farther away. Was I supposed to meet the dead cop for info on Daddy? Or was someone else going to show up with what I needed?
Could that someone have been one of the guys Declan shot?
Shit, what if the man holding Daddy is dead now?
What if he…? I force myself to calm down.
No. The man who’d demanded money from Mom would never have gone to that shithole.
Leon said the guy would probably send a rep in his place who would deliver the information on Daddy.
Leon offered to come with me to the meeting so I wouldn’t be alone.
Leon was the only one I could trust with this. Where else could I turn? Mom? She ignored the note that arrived. She’d never have gotten involved with that deadly truckyard rendezvous.
The man wanted money, I heard mother saying to someone, money she wasn’t about to pay.
Now a cop’s dead. And maybe the man who has Daddy is, too.
And Leon...
All I know is I need to talk to Leon. He’s the only one who might have answers. Maybe he uncovered something after Declan hustled me out of there.
Declan crosses the bridge and pulls into a spot along a curb.
We’re in Manhattan, but we might as well be on the moon.
Declan twists in his seat to face me. His sensuous mouth—the one that made me fall apart in dark corners, the one that kissed someone else—is set in a straight line.
I might still want him. God knows my body wants him. But I don’t like him. He lied. He ghosted. He cheated.
“Why the fuck were you there, Marlowe?” His voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts.
I force myself to hold his gaze. “My dad’s missing. Someone sent my mom a ransom note, and she refused to pay the money, refused to even acknowledge it. So I tried to handle things myself.” The words come out defensive. “My boyfriend…Leon…said he had a contact who might be able to help.”
“And you believed him.” Not a question. An accusation.
“I was desperate.” My voice cracks on the word. “I’m all Dad has, since my mother obviously doesn’t care at all.”
He leans over, hooks my shirt beneath my hoodie, the brush of his finger holding more potent power than a thousand kisses from someone else. And then he pulls me close, right up to him.
I’d be in his lap if the side of his seat and the center gear console weren’t in the way.
“Who was your boyfriend’s contact?”
“I don’t know. It could have been the dead cop, for all I know. But Leon was there. I told you I saw him. Although, I have no idea if he’s alive or dead at this point. And without him, I have nothing to go on. No information. No leads.” My eyes narrow. “Happy? Now you know everything I do.”
His gaze suddenly snaps back to a pinpoint, laser focus.
“So your boyfriend sent you into that shit show. You think he had another motive, other than helping you? Because it didn’t look like he was afraid of those bullets flying all around him.
It looked like he was in on whatever the hell that was. ”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. He wouldn’t put me in danger like that,” I snarl, trying to tug free, a niggling feeling in my gut telling me I really don’t know Leon’s motivations at all. But I’m desperate enough to find my dad that I believe him. “It’s late. I need to get to bed.”
“Is that an invitation, Molly?”
“No.” I push him and still he doesn’t let go. “Never.”
He draws me in closer, and his warm breath teases my lips, every sense filled with him, consumed by that intoxicating scent of him. “You humping my gun and letting me finger you says otherwise.”
“Whatever it takes not to have you shoot me,” I say.
Declan releases me. “To each their own.”
He turns back and starts the engine.
I lean forward, this time of my own free will. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you the fuck home, Marlowe. You won’t talk, so I’m putting you down as a person to probably shoot first, talk to never.”
I stay there, insulted and unsure why. I need to find out what happened back at the truckyard. I don’t know why Declan was there, but somehow, I don’t think it has anything to do with Dad.
And after his arrest—even after all this time—I don’t think Declan’s about to help anyone in my family, and he doesn’t strike me as the blackmail type.
“How do you know where I live?”
“I made it my business to know.”
My heart soars, but I remind it I hate him. I remind it he’s a cheater, I remind myself that if Declan wanted me, he wouldn’t have waited to find me.
He drives through the streets of Manhattan to the Upper West Side where our family duplex is. There are apartment buildings here where a duplex means the entire two floors. Old, grand, and over the top. Ours isn’t that, but it’s grand enough.
And it’s the last place I want to be.
I’m twenty-two, not twelve, and I want to live on my own. Dad bought me a place in Chelsea for my twenty-first birthday, but Mom forbade me to move into it. The deed, keys, and everything else with my name on it is in a safe.
So that apartment sits empty.
I detest my mother.
Declan pulls up and makes no move to release the child locks. He taps his hands on the wheel. “Who were you meeting?”
“I told you. Leon and his contact. To find my missing Dad.”
My words don’t seem to register.
“Marlowe, you said you were in the office building. Why’d you go there? For the meeting?”
I shrug. “I was early, and I figured that’d be a good place to wait.” Leon told me to meet him in the building, but I keep that to myself. “I had time to poke around. It was empty. Not even a chair.”
“Shit,” he mutters.
“When I came out, people started shooting.” I look at him, willing any lust to stay buried. But he’s not really looking at me.
“Fine,” he finally says, still looking like he’s lost in thought. “Go home, Marlowe.”
The locks snap like a slap across the face. “Fine.” I claw open the door and run inside the building, never so glad to be home before in my life.
“Miss Briggs,” Henry, the doorman, greets me with a big smile. “Is everything okay? You look pale.”
“Fine. I’m just tired.” I manage a small smile even though my head and heart ache with the knowledge that even though I’ve just narrowly escaped death, I’m no closer to finding my dad.
The phone buzzes with an incoming call. My pulse hammers hard against my throat.
Leon’s name appears on the screen.
Should I answer? Confront him? So many questions and suspicions gnaw at my brain, thanks to Declan. My thumb hovers over the screen, but I don’t hit the Accept button.
Not yet. Not until I figure out what the hell is going on.
It’s time for me to do some digging on my own.