Page 72 of Cruel Games

She nodded dumbly, and I stepped through the gap in the curtains that separated the Templar Academy changing space from that of the other schools.

Fortunately, the students had gone, presumably to parade their creations, and I rushed through the changing booths.

As I had hoped, I found a door at the other end of the room. I turned it, stepped out into the empty hallway, and broke into a sprint.

A large hand closed around my arm, making me gasp. I spun around, fist balled, and swung at my captor.

Kendrick snatched my wrist out of the air. “What on earth is wrong with you?”

“My stepfather’s here.”

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, making the hairs on the back of my head stand on end. I glanced left, then right. A girl about my age in a bottle-green school uniform hurried toward us, clutching torn fabric to her chest.

“The drug dealer?” Kendrick whispered.

With a gulp, I gave him a sharp nod.

“Is that going to cause a problem?”

“He thinks I told the police about a large shipment of cocaine.” I pulled my arms out of his grip and hurried past the crying schoolgirl.

Up ahead was a wooden door with a stained-glass window. Behind it stood a bulky figure. As he turned his head, I edged against the wall, trying to keep out of sight.

“Did you?” Kendrick shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Is he going to hurt you?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

He grabbed my hand. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“You can hide in the limo.”

“He’ll have men watching the exits. They will snatch me on sight.”

Kendrick closed his eyes, seeming to be deep thought. “I’ll bet he only knows about the official exits.”

“He’s working with Elizabeth. She probably gave him a bloody map.”

A pair of men wearing the white shirts and black bow ties walked toward us carrying trays of empty champagne glasses. Kendrick leaned into my side and said, “A girl like Elizabeth won’t have thought about the service routes. Let’s see where these fellows go.”

We stood against the wall, our hands intertwined, waiting for the staff to pass. The two men chatted among themselves in thick Scottish accents and using slang I had no patience to decipher.

As soon as they passed, I stepped forward to follow them, but Kendrick held me back. The men continued down the hallway and turned a corner.

“Now, let’s go,” he whispered.

Even though I wore my winter coat with the hood up, a sense of intense paranoia seized my chest and reduced my lung capacity by half. Shallow breaths rasped from my throat as we followed the men around the corner and toward a massive, wooden door that said, STAFF ONLY.

“You’re taking us out through the kitchens?” I whispered. “How do you know there’s a way out?”

“I’m not even sure there’s a kitchen, but there’ll be a delivery bay of some sort.”

We walked down the stairs, and a wave of gratitude engulfed my heart. Even if this didn’t work, and Billy Hancock’s men grabbed me, I would remember Kendrick’s steadfast personality and the way he stayed at my side even after I insulted his twin and spat that I would never trust him.

He squeezed my hand and gave me a tight smile. I forced a smile back. Poor Kendrick had probably never dealt with gangsters in his life, yet here he was, helping me escape. Most guys in Richley would leave me to my fate, fearing the consequences for their family.

At the bottom of the stairs stood another wooden door. He pushed it open, revealing a hallway with a fire exit.