Page 107 of Cruel Lies

"You know, if those fucking Skeletons would have just done the job and offed you themselves, I wouldn’t be here today. But they decided some second-class pussy was more important thanthe job, and the rules, and the fuckinglife,so we got a job, and we didn’t even have to give the Guild and that bitch Lilly a fucking cut."

I slid to the side of the car as she hit the back corner furthest away from me, inching backward, just praying that I’d get to the fucking phone before she got to me.

Who would I even call?

I could call the police, but I’d be dead before they made it to me.

I could call the boys.

No.

But really, who else was equipped to deal with a psychotic killer the likes of which only the Guild could produce?

I had all three of their numbers. But who would be most likely to answer?

And could I dial them in time?

Life’s greatest questions often went unanswered when you most needed them to . . . not.

I was only a foot away from the front of the car. I could see the damn toolbox I’d set the damn phone on so I could work. If I could just get one more step closer?—

Clang!

The building was so silent, the faint sound of a tool rolling sideways under my foot felt like a slamming door or a tree falling in the void. I winced as I gave away my location, realizing with a sinking heart that I was fucked.

Might as well give it all up. The pretense of sneakiness is gone.

I jetted the last foot to the toolbox, grabbing my phone with a triumphant fist pump as a rageful screech sounded behind me. I didn’t waste time, thankful I’d set my unlock pad to recognize my finger, hoping Rowan was still one of the last people I’d called.

Track and field training I hadn’t used inyearskicked in as Irounded the corner of the building just in time to hear the cocking of a fucking gun in the distance.

Hope John’s friend had good insurance.

I sprinted toward the alley, realizing my mistake just in time as I veered to the left instead of the right and opted to go closer to a busy road instead of falling into the same kind of trap the boys set for me weeks ago, before they knew who I was.

The boys.

Fuck!

I whipped my finger across the screen and hit the call button twice, hoping and praying that someone would fucking pick up. I hadn’t called a single person since the day I left the Guild and came back to my old life.

Please pick up, Rowan. I need you.

Behind me, I heard the squeal of a set of tires and cursed myself for leaving the damn keys in the fucking car for convenience. Chasing me down now was a fine-tuned Firebird, freshly cleaned, suped-up, andvery fast.

Outrunning it would be impossible.

Out-maneuvering it, maybe not so much.

I heard a voice on the other end of the line in my hand, and just as I brought the phone to my ear, the damn car screeched to a halt in front of me, and two figures hopped out. Like a light going off in my head, I recognized them now, from the Guild.

Bonnie and fucking Clyde.

Angel warned me about them. They were a nasty sort, the type to take money and do whatever was asked, no matter how horrifying or difficult.

And tonight, it appeared I was on the menu.

"Listen, bitch, if you just stop now, we’ll make it fast and painless. A bullet between the eyes, smooth and instant." Clyde sneered at me as I stood there in the headlights, a phone in one hand, a wrench somehow still gripped in the other.

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