Page 36 of Escape into the Night

“How long?”

“Hmm?”

“How fucking long have you known?” Connor waved a hand toward the flickering porch light marking Hank’s residence.

“Two weeks. Terry been keeping eyes on him. So far, we been lucky. Real lucky-lucky. But you running out of time, frère.”

“Fuck!” Connor swore, hissing under his breath as the stress rose even higher.

“So,” the stranger drawled, his grin broadening with a flash of white. “We gone go inside and chat?”

“Walk,” Connor growled. “No talking.”

Again, that infuriating chuckle cut through the white noise of the neighborhood at night. The cocky swagger almost had Connor retrieving his gun again, but the truth of the matter was that they needed to get off the damn street and the only feasible option was Hank’s. At least inside, the sniper wouldn't have the ability to shoot him like a fish in a barrel. His mind ran through a dozen close-combat scenarios as they climbed the creaking wooden staircase that led to Hank’s apartment. He crowded the stranger against the door and pounded with his fist. It was not his normal knock—a gentle rap of the knuckles. This was like a SWAT team knock, all business and bravado. Hopefully, Hank got the message.

The door whipped open and Connor took advantage of the space, muscling the docile body through before heaving him face-first into the wall. Hank slammed it shut behind them and the click of a safety being disengaged was like a breath of freshair cutting through the suffocating fear. Moving on pure muscle memory, Connor relieved the stranger of all his weapons, even those hidden among the folds of his clothing. Two handguns, a taser, and three knives later, he finally released the man and took a step back.

“Care to explain what the hell is going on here?” Hank stood diligently aside, his weapon steady and his eyes sharp. The Metro PD t-shirt was full of wrinkles. His grey sweatpants had a coffee stain down one leg. Charlie, the goofy pitbull who was about as useful as tits on a bull, wiggled his whole body in excitement as he shimmied forward to sniff at the newcomer.

“A big fucking problem,” Connor muttered, his eagerness to get eyes on Theo causing a flood of nervous energy to sweep through him.

“Great. Just what we need.”

“Connie?” Despite the wariness ringing in his voice, Theo’s call settled some of the anxiety.

“Yeah, baby. All clear.” Connor took another small step backward until he could sneak a glance around the corner. Theo, his precious Theo, looked like an absolute wreck. He was thinner, too thin. The dark circles under his eyes made his face look nearly skeletal in the low light of the apartment's living room. The coffee table was littered with paper and coffee mugs scattered around a laptop that cast Theo’s face in a cold blue glow that only further accentuated the pale pallor of his skin. Those curls Connor loved to run his fingers through were a tangled mess corralled in a hair tie that looked like it was hanging on by a thread. Just like Theo himself.

“Can I talk now?” Still grinning, the strange man leaned backward to flash a little wave at Theo. “Howdy, princess.”

Connor was equal parts taken aback and impressed as he watched the exhaustion in Theo’s face burn away in a flash, instantly replaced by a cool, calculating anger tinged withobvious fear. He shifted in his seat on the couch, pulling out a gun hidden among the cushions, before immediately training it on the man. His hands barely shook, and his voice only cracked a little, barely enough to be noticeable. “Call me that again and see what happens.”

“Tempting,” the man replied, his eyebrows waggling as he grinned. “But not tonight. I came for a reason, and you gone want to hear it.”

“Spit it out,” Theo snarled, slowly unfurling his long legs before sliding to his feet, the gun still hovering before him. Between Hank’s piece and Theo’s firearm, Connor was confident that they finally had the upper hand.

The strange man's face turned serious for the first time since he'd stepped out of the shadows in the parking lot. “BubbleGumDrop.”

Theo went still, utterly, absolutely still.

“The hell is—”

“A legend.” Theo's voice had become a mere whisper. Slowly, he lowered his weapon. “BubbleGumDrop is the best goddamn hacker in the underground. They're a legend. A ghost. A powerhouse. If they want you gone, you're gone. If they want you erased, you're erased. They—”

“She,” the stranger interrupted.

“She?”

“Wi, she.” That nonchalant grin returned, and with it, Connor’s anger.

“How the hell d’ye know that?” Connor narrowed his eyes at the man.

“Mais, because I know her.” The smile softened into something surprisingly genuine. “She my baby sister. And the reason I found you, AngelBaby.”

Theo stiffened again. “No. Fuck you. I don't believe—”

“Believe it or not, but here I am, and lover boy is right.” The man crouched down to love on the dog, completely at ease despite having not one, but two guns trained on him. “We got a big fucking problem.”

“Look, man. You’ve got two minutes to talk before I decide whether or not you're leaving in a garbage bag.” Hank stepped forward and hauled the guy back to his feet with a fist wound tight around his collar. “And don't touch my goddamn dog.”

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