Page 134 of Fight or Flight
“I know.” I rub his back in what I hope is a soothing manner. “Let’s get you back to your room so you can rest.”
“’Kay,” he murmurs, but doesn’t loosen his hold on me.
It takes a bit of shifting and some gentle prying, but I manage to peel him off me and tuck him back up against my side.
It’s slow going because he’s too fucked up to help, but we eventually clear the trees and step out into a secluded lot that’s off one of the many access roads around campus that aren’t on any of the school maps.
The car I borrowed from the back parking lot of the dorm is sitting exactly where I left it, and I drag Shane over to it and pull open the door.
Folding him into the car is a struggle, and I have to move his legs in one by one like he’s a mannequin.
When he’s finally in the car, I close the door and walk around to the other side. I didn’t bother buckling him in since we’re only driving to the dorm, but he’s fumbling for the clasp over his shoulder when I slide into the car next to him.
“Seatbelts,” he slurs and catches the clasp. He gives it a hard yank, which just causes it to lock and slip right out of his hand.
“We don’t need them.”
“What if we get pulled over?” He blinks at me with big, liquid eyes that are so full of trust and innocence, it makes something in my chest tighten.
“We won’t,” I assure him and push the ignition start button.
“I didn’t know you had a car,” he says and leans back against his seat.
“I don’t. Not here, at least.”
He furrows his brow in confusion as I put the car in gear. “Then whose car’s this?”
“Not mine,” I say as I pull onto the access road.
“You stole it?”
“More like borrowed it since I’m putting it back.”
“How?” He lets his head fall back against the headrest. “Did you borrow the start thingy too?”
“The key fob?”
“Yeah, that.”
“No. I made my own.”
“Kinda like how you made that dumdum card?”
I huff out a soft laugh. “Not exactly the same, but pretty much.”
He rolls his head so he’s looking at me. “How do you know how to do all this stuff?”
His words are slurring worse than ever, but I can still understand him.
“It’s not that hard. Just need the right tech.”
“Is this like when they told you they needed you to use magic on those files we got?”
It takes a second to piece together that he’s talking about when Jordan tasked me with going over the blackmail files and the info Carter compiled about them after the escape room meeting.
“Mostly,” I tell him, even though it’s not even remotely the same thing.
Now isn’t the time to go over the complexities of the different methods and tech needed to hack computer files versus hacking a car.
