Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(25)

The SUV is still right behind us, riding our bumper.

There’s a crackling then, the sound of a radio, but not the police radio, no... a fucking Walkie-Talkie.

They’re talking off the airwaves. Of course.

“We’ve had a car tailing us for a few minutes,” a voice cuts in. “Could be a coincidence, but we’re going to double back and run a traffic stop, to be safe.”

“10-4,” the detective says. “We’re almost there. Meet at the spot.”

Almost there.

That means I’m running out of time. I need to figure out something fast. The SUV backs off, and I can see lights flashing, but before I can get a good look at what’s happening, we make a sharp turn.

Then another.

And another.

A few turns later and we’re whipping into an old parking garage. We follow the arrows, going round and round and round, making our way to the very top. The unmarked Crown Vic pulls onto the roof, the cars growing scarcer with each level we navigate. There are none up here at all. The car creeps along the empty spaces, coming to a stop somewhere along the edge of the space where there are no lights.

I’m guessing no cameras, either.

No witnesses.

As the detective puts the car in park, a thought passes through my mind, something I couldn’t bring myself to entertain until that moment.

Sickness swells up inside of me.

A lump forms in my throat.

He said he was delivering me where I’m meant to be, but what if where I’m meant to be is... dead?

Before I can even wrap my head around that possibility, lights flash onto the roof, cars approaching. Cars, plural. I spot the SUV but the others are a blur. Two more, I think. I can’t really tell. My vision is blurring and it’s too damn dark.

The detective gets out, no hesitation, and opens up the back door, reaching his hand in. I pull away, shifting along the seat. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

I hear doors slam nearby, footsteps approaching. Sighing, the detective reaches further in, snatching ahold of my arm and dragging me out. Panic bubbles up inside of me. He’s right there, in the doorway. I’ve got little range of movement, but more right now than I will have in a few seconds.

Fuck this.

Now or never.

Lying back, I move quickly. As soon as the man reaches for me again, trying to force me from the backseat of the car, I thrust my legs out, my feet slamming against him.

BAM.

He staggers backward, gasping, wide-eyed as he clutches his chest.

I knocked the air right out of his lungs.

I rock myself out of the car, springing to my feet. Shadows move around me. I can’t escape them, not while shackled, but I’ll be damned if I’m going down without fighting.

Before the detective can catch his breath, I tackle him, knocking him onto his back on the parking deck. I land on top of him with a grunt, and he tries to shove me away, tries to shove me off, but I’m not giving up.

I can’t punch, can’t kick, but hell, I can head-butt, so I slam my forehead right into his face. BAM. All that extra security he brought and I’ll still break his fucking nose like I did Gabe’s. The detective screams, and my vision blurs, the pain echoing through me, so I know he has to hurt.

“Jesus, fuck!” a voice calls out as arms wrap around me, tearing me off of him. “I told the guy nobody would die tonight, so don’t kill him.”

That voice rushes through me as I’m set on my feet. I’m dizzy, but I manage to shove away from those arms to turn around, to look at him.

Lorenzo.

“Seriously?” I yell, staring at him with disbelief as he stands in front of me. “This was you?”

“Yes,” he says, grabbing the detective’s hand to help him up. “Why? Who did you think it was?”

I just gape at him.

“Some asshole who wants to kill her,” the detective mutters, covering his face with his hands. “At least, that’s what she said.”

Lorenzo’s eyes widen before he lets out a laugh. A laugh. He’s laughing. What the fuck?

“This isn’t funny!” I growl, lunging at him, slamming into him, shoving him back, nearly knocking him down.

His guys, all present, come right at us, like it’s an instinctive reaction to protect the boss, but Lorenzo stops them with a raised hand, his other grabbing my hip. “Whoa, stand down, fellas. We’re still all friends here. Scarlet’s just a little upset. No biggie.”

He stares at me, his hand still touching me, his face inches from mine. I kind of want to break his nose, too, while I’m at it, because of the amused twinkle in his eyes.

But I can’t deny the relief that rushes through me at the realization that I probably won’t be thrown off this roof tonight, the realization that someone jumped through hoops to get their hands on me but that someone wasn’t Kassian.

Lorenzo saved my ass. Again.

“It’s still not funny,” I say. “I thought he seriously had me.”

“I got you,” Lorenzo says. “How many times do I have to tell you that before you believe it?”

“Probably a few more times.”

“And I thought I told you to stay out of trouble,” he says, scolding me. “I even asked nicely.”

“Yeah, well, the trouble with trouble is that it doesn’t always look like trouble, Lorenzo.”