Page 24 of Boxed In

“Yeah.” This crazy situation was pulling them together. And he’d like to reap the benefits—which meant keeping them alive.

A voice inside his head—the voice that kept butting in—interrupted his thoughts.

Get the box!

The box. He cursed under his breath. He’d like to pitch the box into the Inner Harbor. But the big Z was right there doing his job.

Reluctantly, Luke let go of Olivia, then reached inside the car and retrieved the antique.

His mind was starting to focus on business again. Zabastian’s business. Had the driver of the truck called the cops? And were the Poisoned Ones monitoring police communications?

He looked at the front of the car again. It was going to be a while before his ride was back in driving shape—if he ever got the chance.

As he stood beside Olivia on the sidewalk, he heard a siren in the distance.

“We gotta get out of here,” he heard himself say, even when he’d like to surrender to the cops.

That is not an option.

I was just indulging in a tempting fantasy.

Before the silent exchange was completed, he reached into the car and grabbed the box, then grabbed Olivia’s hand.

“Come on.”

She seemed to emerge from a fog, looking around for an escape route.

“Where?”

They were hemmed in by a chain-link fence that closed off the parking lot of a warehouse to their right. And if they crossed the street, they’d be right in the headlights of any oncoming police cars.

As the sirens drew closer, Luke pointed up the narrow sidewalk. “This way.”

Quickly he led her along the fence, hurrying to round the corner before the cops arrived.

He knew she was struggling to keep up with his long-legged strides. And he could hear her breathing hard as they reached the end of the block, then put the side of the building between themselves and the car.

“I have a stitch in my side,” she gasped. “Can we rest?”

“Not yet.”

Ahead of them he could see that the neighborhood changed again—back to an older residential area lined with row houses.

He kept pounding up the street, then through a passageway between two row houses.

At the other end, Olivia stopped and leaned against the wall.

He gave her a couple of minutes before murmuring, “We’d better go.”

They hurried through the backyard of the row house, then into the alley. A few more houses down the block, a man was standing outside, smoking a cigarette.

“Don’t look at him. He’s just grabbing a smoke. But we don’t want him to remember us—if anyone asks. Walk normally, like we’re just a man and a woman out for an evening stroll.”

To reinforce the impression, he reached down and clasped her hand.

They continued up the alley, holding hands. Did they look normal? He hoped so. And at the same time, he hoped he could do a better job of sorting out his thought processes. Having the warrior in his head was a constant strain—even when the man kept his virtual mouth shut.

“The Poisoned Ones may show up at the accident scene,” he said, surprised and a little alarmed that he’d used Zabastian’s terminology.

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