Page 114 of Gambler's Fallacy

The first one to type back is Caleb.

I’m on my way back from a meeting. Driving into the parking garage now.

I glance up at Connie, who is looking at me with concern. “I need your help,” I say.

“Help?” she repeats. “What do you need?”

“I need to get to the parking garage,” I tell her. “It’s… I’ll explain. But we need to go now.”

Part of me is screaming that I shouldn’t leave the bar, but I need Caleb right now. Security is everywhere on the premises, but I don’t know who’s safe.

Maybe no one is.

Maybeshehas paid someone off on the inside.

The panic claws at my insides, and I get down from the bar stool, steadying myself with a hand on the bar. “Keep an eye out for anything weird,” I say, going for the exit from the bar at a near-jog.

Connie follows me, her bag thumping against her side. “Should I call security? The cops?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s not safe. Just need to get to Caleb. He’ll know who’s safe.”

Everyone around us could belong to them.Everyone. I bite my lip to fight back a whimper, not wanting to embarrass myself any more than I already am.

“Yeah, guess not. The pigs are all in league with the mob,” Connie mutters. We’re nearing the exit to the garage. “I’ll call Sebby though, okay? He’ll know what to do.”

“Y-yeah,” I say, glancing at my phone. “I texted him, but I don’t know if he saw.” My breaths are coming quickly, and I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate.

If I don’t get a hold of myself soon, I will, so I try to remember how to breathe.

The security guard at the door looks at me strangely, and that panic bubbles up again as I wonder if he’s going to be the one to grab me. We get through the door without incident, though, and I realize I didn’t even ask Caleb which floor he’s on.

“Fuck,” I say emphatically, because if there was ever a time to use that word, it’s now.

Connie holds her phone up to her ear. “Sebby, no, I don’t care that you missed lunch—shut upand listen to me, Jesus. Yourboyfriend—it doesn’t matter why I was with him! —oh my god, will you let me speak?”

I hear the clack of shoes against concrete. I look in that direction, my breaths coming faster.

It’s Caleb, jogging our way.

“Seven!” he shouts. “Why are you out here?”

I run to him, throwing my arms around him as relief fills me. “Because you’re safe,” I tell him, my voice muffled against his dress shirt. “Because I needed you. Because I’m scared,” I babble.

He strokes my hair. “I’m here,” he says. “Come on, we need to get back inside. I alerted security already.”

Connie steps up to us. “I’m with your boss. At least, I think this is Caleb Spade. He’s not as hot in real life as in his profile picture online.”

I hear Vortex’s muffled voice through her phone, but I focus on Caleb’s warmth.

“Yes, it’s me,” Caleb says loudly. “Vortex, we’re in the garage. I called up to?—”

The loud squeal of tires echoes through the garage.

I tense and cling even harder to Caleb.

A dark van pulls up to us.

“What the hell?” Connie says.

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