Page 5 of Rear View
The stairs to street level sat thirty feet ahead.
“The cops’ll block the exits,” Sean said. “We’re fucking trapped.”
My hard stare met Alec’s. “Not we.” I dropped my foot down, locking the brakes up. Their hands shot out, bracing themselves against the hard stop.
I unclipped Alec’s seat belt. “Get movin’.”
His nod was tight. “I’ll see you on the other side.” He whipped his door open and launched out. Sean cursedand followed tight behind. They kept low as they ran and ducked behind a car, tearing their balaclavas off and stuffing them away before they bolted for the stairs and outta sight.
Thank Christ. I could handle my life being blown apart, but not Alec’s. Never fuckin’ Alec’s.
Red and blue lights dusted the concrete walls, gaining on me. I punched the gas again, circling down, down, down, until I hit the dead end at the bottom of the lot and stopped, cornering myself. The cops caught up, parking at forty-fives to block me in, then flew from their vehicles, yelling instructions to each other on positioning, guns drawn.
“GET OUT OF THE CAR AND PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM,” a female cop yelled.
So, I did, ’cause it was the only way.
Chapter One
Present Day
Ryah
“Edgewater Police Department, how can I direct your call?” the man on the other end of the line said. He sounded pleasant…enough. As pleasant as anyone who dealt with the public could be, I guessed.
The pit in my stomach knotted. “Could I please speak to Officer Maynard?”
My best friend and roommate, Zoya Bakshi, tagged along while I aimed for the psych building on the U of E’s campus, because Professor Charles Barlowe, my thesis adviser and de facto counselor—whether I wanted it or not—didnotlike to be kept waiting.
The sun died on the campus’s horizon, its long shadows running toward the night. My body was tense, my gaze flicking frenetically from face to face. I might’ve mistrusted people, but I liked crowds. Safety in numbers, and all. Well, maybe not safety. But at the very least, witnesses.
Our boots crunched on the snow as Zoya shoved her ear to my phone, not so subtly eavesdropping.
“Who’s speaking?” the man asked.
Ugh. I hated this part. All of it, really, but the second Maynard heard my name… “Ryah Nolan.”
“Please hold.” There was a click, then a weird bonging dial tone.
The frigid February wind cut across campus like a knife. The old brick buildings acted like a funnel, blasting it along the walkways. It stung when it bit at me, undoubtedly turning my cream-colored skin a bitter shade of red.
I tucked my plaid scarf inside my oat-colored wool coat. It was loose, not overly flattering, but that was by design. Wallpaper. That’s what I was. Not what I wanted to be, but I hadn’t gotten what I’d wanted sincehe’dforced himself into my life.
Zoya pulled back, her soft hazel eyes fierce when they pierced mine. “You got this. Advocate for yourself.”
“Yeah,” I uttered.
“Very convincing,” she deadpanned, throwing the loose Dutch braid of her stunning black hair over her shoulder. Seriously, it nearly reached her ass, was sleek, shiny and made me envious to my bones. “Maybe try that again with a little more oomph.” She nudged me with her elbow. “Stand tall, girl.”
“Yeah!” I said, voice high in mock excitement.
She shook her head. “That was pathetic.”
I offered her a toothy smile. We veered around a couple energetically making out in the center of the path, and a pang of jealousy burned my stomach. What I wouldn’t give…
The line clicked in, and a gruff voice came over the speaker. “Officer Maynard.”
“Hello, this is—”
