Chapter 29 – Marlowe #2
They block the line of sight from the hallway, shielding me.
I hear a muffled thump from somewhere. Laughter. Voices. I don’t think they know the bag is gone yet. No one is yelling or running.
My fingers tremble as I push the rest of the chips onto the counter, my hands clammy, my throat dry.
The banker starts counting. It feels like it takes forever. “$805,000,” he says, as a machine spits out the money next to him.
Holy shit. That’s what I’ve won.
The man behind the glass slides over a nondescript envelope. It’s thick. Heavy. I grab it and tuck it inside the bag, zipping it up. My eyes flick to the door again. Still clear.
Neve leans in. “We have to move.”
I nod, stepping back.
Pearl Necklace smiles at me. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Neve and I clasp hands. We cut back across the kitchen, past two women setting out desserts. Pearl Necklace pushes us forward, opening a door that looks like a kitchen pantry. But it’s not. She shoves at the back panel of the wall, revealing a hidden stairwell. “Down here,” she says.
Neve nods. “Go.”
I don’t hesitate.
The stairwell is metal and smells like damp concrete and cigarettes. I descend quickly, feet clanging against the steps, my lungs burning now. Neve closes the wall behind us, muffling the noise from above. I hear voices through the floorboards. Someone is shouting.
We reach the bottom.
Another door.
Neve yanks it open.
We’re in a side alley now, outside. The air hits my face like a slap. Dark. Empty.
My feet move faster now. We round the corner of the building, boots skidding against gravel, and I hear it: the door above slams open.
Shouts.
“Run,” Neve says.
I take off. The pavement flashes beneath my feet, every breath a raw scrape in my throat as we tear into the street. A car honks. A group of drunk men yell. A taxi slams its brakes and the driver sticks his head out, shouting something I can’t hear because gunfire cracks behind us.
Sharp, fast, too close.
I scream, ducking instinctively, stumbling as Neve yanks me forward. “Keep moving!” she barks, her grip bruising around my wrist.
We sprint across an intersection. Tires screech. Someone swears. A man in a white suit stares as we bolt past him, the leather bag slamming into my side with every step.
Neve drags me down a narrow alley between enormous mansions, her boots skidding across their landscaping. I nearly lose my footing again, but she doesn’t let go.
The sounds behind us grow louder. Running footsteps.
Another gunshot.
A trash can explodes beside me.
“Go!” Neve screams, shoving me hard around a corner. The alley spits us out into a wide street lined with tall palm trees and dark gates. We sprint across someone’s lawn. A porch light flickers on.
A dog barks.
Then another.
Neve leaps over a low iron fence. I scramble after her, the bag nearly slipping off my shoulder. My boot catches the edge. I hit the ground hard on the other side, my shoulder slamming into packed dirt.
“Take my hand,” Neve pants, grabbing the back of my jacket. “Come on!”
She hauls me to my feet.
We crash through a row of shrubs, sprint into another backyard. A German shepherd throws itself at a fence just ten feet from us, snarling. More lights click on. A woman screams something from a window. A bullet whizzes through the air and shreds a wooden fence post inches from my face.
I freeze, heart slamming against my ribs.
Neve grabs me again, yelling, “Don’t stop!”
We vault another fence, this one taller, rough wood tearing at my palm as I scramble over. I fall into a concrete yard, my knees scraped raw.
Neve lands beside me, already digging into her coat pocket. She pulls out her phone with shaking hands and taps frantically at the screen. “Hey Siri, call Bridger,” she gasps.
The phone chirps back: “A bridge is a structure to span a physical obstacle without blocking the path underneath. Should I keep going?”
“Are you serious right now?” Neve shrieks, her voice breaking. “No! Not a bridge! Bridger! Call Bridger!”
I duck behind a pool house, breathing hard, while Neve nearly throws the phone.
Then, finally, it rings. “Bridger!” she yells, half sobbing. “We’re running! Joel’s guys are on us. I have Marlowe. She has the money.”
A voice crackles back, loud, panicked, but I can’t hear what he says. We keep running. Another backyard, a patio table, a pool we almost fall into. Neve doesn’t stop talking. “Just get here now.”
We round the corner of a massive estate, probably worth millions, and burst into another yard. There’s a tall stucco wall ahead.
“Help me!” I cry, and Neve shoves me up, boosting me until I can grab the top and swing a leg over. I hold out my arm for her and hoist her up after me.
I fall to the other side, landing on soft grass. Neve lands beside me seconds later, with a strangled groan. She clutches her side, breathing ragged, then lifts her phone again. “Tell me what the street sign says,” she pants.
I turn in a circle, dizzy, the world tilting slightly. We’re in front of another mansion now, an immaculate driveway stretching out to a quiet, curved street. I squint into the shadows and spot a street sign near the edge of the lawn. “Morning Sky Lane,” I say, barely getting the words out.
Neve repeats it into the phone. “Morning Sky. Morning Sky Lane. Please, just hurry.”
Another voice shouts from behind us.
I turn.
A flashlight bobs in the distance. Fuck, it’s Zero.