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Page 52 of Nanny for the Firefighters

I cut through a park, the car bouncing over the uneven terrain. The rain has turned the grass into a slippery mess, but I keep my foot on the pedal, eyes scanning for an escape. A bridge over a canal appears, its wooden planks slick with rain. I gun it, the car lurching as it hits the bridge, wood creaking ominously beneath the weight.

On the other side, I see my chance—a construction site, cranes and scaffolding creating a chaotic mess. I plunge into it, maneuvering around obstacles with reckless precision. The black car hesitates, the driver momentarily disoriented by the labyrinth of steel and concrete.

I push through, emerging onto a deserted street. I take a deep breath, the adrenaline high fading slightly. I can't see the other car. Did I lose him? My heart pounds, the silence almost more unnerving than the chase.

Suddenly, headlights flare in my mirrors—the black car again, a dark specter refusing to let go. I grit my teeth, determination flaring anew. This ends now.

I spot an underpass ahead, narrow and barely visible. I aim for it, accelerating. The other car follows, inches from my bumper. I time it perfectly, swerving at the last second. He doesn't have time to react. His car clips the edge, spinning out and crashing into the concrete wall.

I don't stop to look back. I keep driving, the city swallowing me whole. The danger is over, but the night is far from done.

The adrenaline from the chase still thrums through my veins as I drive, the city lights blurring past me. Who the hell could be after me? My mind races, dissecting the possibilities as I navigate the rain-slick streets.

My separate life is dangerous, and not everyone appreciates the service I provide. My list of enemies is long, and tonight's chase suggests one of them wants to cut it short.

I pull into a small takeaway on Crescent Street, the warm glow of the neon sign a stark contrast to the night's earlier chaos. The rain has let up, leaving the pavement glistening under the streetlights. I park the car and step out, pulling my hood up to shield against the residual drizzle. The smells of freshly brewed coffee and grilling sandwiches hits me as I push open the door, the bell above it jingling softly.

Inside, the place is nearly empty—just the way I like it. I head to the counter, my mind still churning through the list of suspects. The usual cheaters and their furious partners cross my mind, but none seem desperate enough to resort to such extreme measures.

"Hey there, what can I get for you?" the barista asks, her cheerful demeanor a brief respite from my dark thoughts.

"An almond bar and a black coffee, to go," I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

As she prepares my order, I lean against the counter, my eyes scanning the street outside through the rain-streaked window. Who could have orchestrated such a brazen attack?

First on my mental list is Martin Delacroix. He's a corporate big shot whose affair I uncovered last month. His wife was devastated, but his fury was palpable when confronted. He swore revenge, his eyes promising more than just empty threats.

Next, there's Coral Price, a socialite with a penchant for younger men. Her scandal made headlines after I provided her husband with undeniable proof. She's powerful and connected—enough to hire someone to take me out.

Then there's Derek Harlan, a cop with a sideline in infidelity. Exposing him put a significant dent in his career. He's got the means and the motive to come after me, not to mention access to the kind of underworld contacts who could arrange a high-speed chase.

My thoughts are interrupted by the barista handing over my chocolate and coffee. I pay quickly, flashing her a brief smile before heading back into the night. The chill air hits me, and I tug my jacket tighter around myself. Back in the car, I take a sip of the coffee, the bitter warmth grounding me momentarily.

I start the engine and drive aimlessly, the rhythmic sweep of the windshield wipers hypnotic. As I nibble on the soft, chewy bar, my thoughts circle back to the night's events. Whoever was behind the wheel of that black car wasn't just trying to scare me—they wanted me dead.

I turn onto Elmwood Avenue, the familiar sights of the neighborhood calming my racing mind. This is my turf, the place where I've built my reputation. But even here, I can't afford to let my guard down. Not until I figure out who's behind this.

Another name surfaces—Richard Saunders. A real estate mogul whose latest conquest was exposed through my intervention. His carefully constructed image shattered, and his business took a hit. He's got resources and a grudge—dangerous combinations.

I park the car in front of a 24-hour pharmacy, needing to clear my head and reassess. I sit there, watching the few pedestrians hurrying by, their umbrellas bobbing like dark mushrooms. The rain has picked up again, drumming softly on the roof of the car.

As I finish my bar, my phone buzzes. It's a message from Ethan. "What are you up to on your day off? Taking down some baddies?"

I grin slightly. If only he knew.

I reply quickly, telling him I went out for a drive, and now I'm headed back home. My mind is still reeling. The timing of the attack, too—just when I was tailing Vanessa… Could it be her? But the silhouette of the driver was manly, and Vanessa was stone drunk back in the bar. She couldn't possibly sober up enough to drive with the specific intent of killing me.

I sip the last of my coffee, the caffeine sharpening my senses. Who would go to such lengths? Could it be a coalition of enemies? Or is there someone new in the game, someone I haven't yet considered?

I need more information. I decide to call it a night. I can make a list back in my room.

As I drive through the rain-soaked streets, I make a mental note to check in with my other contacts, to gather intel on any recent hires or suspicious activities. Someone has declared war, and I need to be ready.

Whoever's behind this will soon learn that I'm not just a hunter. I'm also a survivor.

Lily's asleep by now, no doubt. She's really an angel.

I weave through the quiet streets, the rain a constant companion. The tension from the chase is still in my muscles, but the thought of seeing Marcus calms me. He always knows how to ground me, even when the world is spinning out of control.


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