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He raised a good point.
I would have to just squat where I was and have a good think.
Then he grunted with surprise. “Well, hell… You didn’t steal shit from a very rich, tall, blond fella, did ya?”
My first thought? That sounded a lot like Caspian Dagon. My second? That I was so fucked.
“Why?” I asked.
“He’s about to come in here, so if you want to get away, you better escape out the back,” he informed, not looking down at me, but looking straight ahead at the windows to the street.
I immediately scrambled, on hands and knees, towards the back. When I was in the back storeroom, I stood up and ran out the doors and into the alleyway.
It was dark as hell here. There were no streetlights in the alley. I could have had a rat sitting on my shoe and not known it.
I carefully skulked down towards the street, trying not to trip.
I looked around the corner. Left, then right.
Looking right was the problem.
I was now looking directly at Murtagh Rails.
Murtagh was way, way taller than I remembered him being. Oh, I remembered that he was big, but I didn’t remember just how big. I was only eighteen when I knew Murtagh—I was right out of high school. I figured my memories of him were warped by the knowledge that I thought he was smart, and successful, and worldly, and I was none of those things. Of course I had been intimidated by him.
“Murtagh…” I said aloud, transfixed. I had to be imagining him, right? Because he didn’t even look surprised to see me. He had the same expression on his face that he’d had when he caught me stuffing his necklace into my purse.
“Hello, little thief,” he said, his mouth widening into a smirk. The smirk wasn’t kind; it said, ‘I found you, you little shit,’ like we were playing a very long game of Hide and Seek and he had long ago called ‘Ollie Ollie Oxen Free!” which I had refused to honor.
The look made me take a step back into the darkness, although I had thought of Murtagh a million times. I had regretted leaving him. Regretted having him only once. But I also knew that he had a bite, and I didn’t want to be bit.
“Caspian! I got her,” he said to someone approaching me from behind.
I spun around, stunned, my heart jumping into my throat, and I saw Caspian, blond and very well dressed in a white blazer, walking towards us, looking pissed.
Of course he was pissed! And I understood, but I still felt like I could get away. I backed up and realized that Murtagh was just behind me now. I could feel his body heat against my back as he looped a strong arm around me.
Startled, I stomped on his foot and threw an elbow right into his groin, which did make him release me immediately. I spun around his body and sprinted down the street behind him. If they were going to take back that ring, they were going to have to chase me down for it. I wasn’t giving it up without a fight.
I heard them say something to each other but didn’t look back. Their footfalls stomping on the pavement behind me were frightening enough. They weren’t giving up either, apparently.
Fuck. This wasn’t good.
I needed to run and fast. I put one foot in front of the other, concentrating so that I didn’t trip like all those blonde girls did in all the big horror movies. I, for one, was smarter than that.
Immediately, I stumbled and nearly shrieked with frustration at myself. Thankfully, I caught myself before I fell.
Don’t look over your shoulder either, dummy.
To my credit, I didn’t, which I was pretty proud of myself for because every instinct in my body was telling me to do exactly that to see if I had lost them, and if I hadn’t, how far exactly they were behind me so my head could calculate my odds of escape. Instead, I kept my head forward and kept sprinting down the alley. When I got to the end of it, I turned left and then took a quick right, hoping to lose them.
My heart raced like a drumbeat in my chest as I sprinted through the dimly lit streets of the city. The rhythmic thud of their pursuing footsteps echoed behind me, which only made my heart beat that much faster.
The cityscape blurred as I ran through the labyrinth of alleyways, my breaths coming in rapid gasps. The night was heavy with the scent of humidity and magnolia blossoms, and the distant sound of blues music from some nearby bar wafted through the air.
A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead, and I resisted the urge to glance over my shoulder once again. Every fiber of my being screamed to look back and assess the situation, but I fought against the instinct. Instead, I focused on the path ahead, my eyes scanning for potential escape routes, hoping for anything really.
As I turned another corner, the narrow streets of downtown Baton Rouge stretched out before me like a maze. I pressed harder, sprinting through the twists and turns, the sound of their pursuit still close on my heels. The neon signs casting erratic shadows on the street and the distant sound of their laughter made my blood run cold.
