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Getting up quietly, I tiptoe to the door, opening it just a touch. Just enough to look down into the main living area. The lights are off, and no one seems to be around.
Perfect.
Waiting for him to go to bed is a gamble. I don’t know if he’s a light sleeper or not, and I’m not going to trust my gut enough to find out. It’s gotten me in enough trouble.
Silently backing away, I turn back and grab my shoes, quietly putting them on before pressing my ear against the bathroom door, making sure I hear the sound of water splashing against the floor from him moving around. I don’t want him to come out as I’m leaving, having forgotten something.
When I’m satisfied, I turn back to the door happily, feeling for the key still tucked in the oversized sweats Ronan gave me to wear. They slip down my hips slightly, but they’ll work until I get home and I have my own clothes.
Opening the door just enough to slip out, I close it quietly behind me, careful not to make any noise that would alert the others to someone being up. When it’s closed, I rush down the steps. I’m not going to have much time, especially when I start whichever car this belongs to.
When I’m finally in the main room, I click the button on the key fob once, praying that it doesn’t make the car beep. Instead, the interior lights come on as the car unlocks. I take a deep breath and head to the back of the room where it sits.
The thing looks insane. Like the bat mobile but more conventional. The red paint is glossy, reflecting the moonlight from the windows up on top of the walls perfectly.
It takes me a moment to figure out how to open the door, but when I do, it opens upwards like a wing. I’ve never been in a car like this.
It’s odd that he had the key to this hidden away in his room. I wonder if they hide the keys to all of the cars. I don’t think it would make sense, would it?
Despite mom and dad being rich, they didn’t like drawing too much attention to their money. Something about drawing unnecessary attention their way and legal battles. Instead, they invested it into my education and their extracurricular activities. We didn’t have fancy cars, especially none like this.
As I climb into the seat and figure out how to close the door, that familiar pain in my abdomen starts again, and I close my eyes, praying that it’ll go away. I don’t have time to deal with it right now.
I know that I have to get going, but I take a moment to breath. The second I start this, I have to go. And how do I even open the garage door? I should probably figure that out before I start this up.
Looking around, I silently pray that there’s a garage opener around. I almost give up before I find a small rectangular object in the glove compartment: two buttons with up and down arrows on it.
Perfect.
Okay. One, two… three.
I turn the key in the ignition and immediately have a heart attack as it roars to life, the headlights flashing on. There’s no way that someone didn’t hear that.
Shit.
Looking around, I have another heart attack as I realize that it’s a stick. I don’t know how to drive stick. Who the hell has time to learn. Who would buy a car with a stick, even? What’s the point?
But I’m shocked when I shift it into drive that it works like any other car. I’m not going to complain. I don’t know what fancy things this car has, but I’m not going to complain about it.
A door on the second floor opens, and Zach’s head peeks out, his eyes wide.
I have to go now.
Clicking the garage opener, my leg shakes as I watch the door open. It’s slow. Much too slow for this, as another two doors open. I should have been out of here by now.
When it’s finally open just enough, I hit the gas, shooting through the space as the engine thunders. I’m thrown back in the seat, surprised at how fast the acceleration is. I’m going to have to get used to that and quick.
Before I know it, I’m flying out the front door and swerving on the unstable dirt road leading out of it, my headlights illuminating the gate ahead of me.
Shit!
Clicking the garage opener a couple of times, I’m unsurprised that it doesn’t work. But I don’t have any time to think about what I’m going to do. Instead, I drive through it.
Metal scrapes against the hood of the car, making me wince as the gate blows apart on impact. I don’t know how fast I’m going—too scared to look away from the road—but it’s fast enough.
I pull onto the road just as I see headlights flash behind me.
ELEVEN
